Chapter 4His Intern Nearly Killed My Son

He turned and left.

I was so angry I wanted to tear her mouth apart.

But looking back and seeing the security guards about to catch up, I couldn't think about it and just ran.

Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared around the corner ahead.

It was the hematology nurse from earlier, coming out from the ward area.

I rushed up to her again, pleading, "Nurse, please help me! You saw it earlier, my son's condition. Please call a doctor!"

Seeing my convulsing child in my arms, her face changed. She reached out to take him.

Emma caught up again. "I was personally trained by Dr. Smith! You're just a nurse—dare to interfere and see what happens!"

The nurse's hand froze in mid-air. Hesitation flashed across her face, and she looked like she was about to run too.

I immediately grabbed her arm, leaned close to her ear, my voice low and urgent: "Please go find the Chief of Pediatrics and tell him my name is Vivian Winters!"

Her eyes widened instantly. I didn't have time to say more—the security guards caught up and grabbed my arm.

I looked at her with pleading eyes. The nurse's expression was complicated. She turned and walked away quickly.

Emma directed the security guards to grab my arms and drag me back.

I was hauled back to the pediatric examination room. The guards pressed me down into a chair.

My son was still in my arms. His convulsions had slowed down.

Emma sat back at the computer and started typing away again. "Chest X-ray, EEG, and..."

I was going crazy. "He's having a febrile seizure right now. He can't have a chest X-ray! Besides, the child is too young. X-rays have radiation!"

Emma pulled out the order form with a cold snort and walked over to me.

"Didn't you say it might be pneumonia? Don't I need to check everything? What if I miss something and you complain me to death?"

With that, she grabbed my son's arm and tried to pull him away. I held on and wouldn't let go, but suddenly one of the guards wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled backward.

I screamed, afraid my son's arm would dislocate. My hands instinctively loosened.

She snatched my son away and ran out holding him.

I chased after her. She turned into the CT room, laid my son on the examination table, and started fiddling with the machine.

My son was completely still now, his little face ashen, his chest barely rising.

She grabbed the restraint straps and tied my son's hands and feet to both sides of the bed, binding them tightly.

I tried to rush in, but the security guards blocked the doorway.

She fumbled around for a long time, pressing this button, then that button. The machine beeped but didn't move.

I shouted desperately toward the inside, "He's not seizing anymore! Let him down! He needs emergency care!"

Emma didn't even turn her head. "If he stopped, that's good. Proves I handled it right. Stop making noise, I'm trying to figure out this button."

She kept pressing. The machine still didn't respond.

My son's face grew paler and paler, while the two guards at the door kept their eyes fixed on me.