In the past few weeks, Mike had gotten a reputation for being good with kids. This was good because he liked children, but bad because he really hated to see a kid hurt.
After finding the child, comforting her and getting her prepped for surgery, he transported her to the OR and promised he’d be there when she got out of surgery.
A few hours later, Mike glanced at his watch. Almost 6:00 a.m. His mother would be picking him up after the shift change. She’d needed the car to go to the doctor yesterday afternoon, only a routine visit, she’d said. He hoped everything had gone well.
Because he’d expected her to arrive an hour later, seeing her in the E.R. hallway surprised him. Even more amazing, she supported a gray-haired man with one hand and tried to staunch the blood dripping from the towels wrapped around the man’s arm with the other.
“Mom?”
“Hello, dear.” She gave him a quick smile. “I met Mr. Ramírez in the parking lot and helped him in.” She lowered the man into a chair. “He says his daughter works here. Do you know her?”
“Yeah.” Mike pulled gloves from his pockets, slipping them on as he ran to the nurses’ station. “Page Dr. Ramírez, please.” Then he grabbed a couple of towels from a hall cabinet, dropped the blood-soaked towels from Mr. Ramírez’s arm on the tile floor and wrapped the clean ones around it. Before he could do more, Dr. Ramírez rushed toward her father.
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