The day they kept me out
The day started with chaos. I was still in the car when I got the call: Emma had collapsed at school. I don’t even remember the drive to Northbridge Children’s Hospital – just the panic.
When I reached the nurses’ station, breathless, the nurse frowned and said:
“Your family already visited. They’re waiting in the hallway now.”
Visited? I hadn’t even seen my daughter.
I turned the corner and there they were – my parents, my sister Claire – standing in the hallway, coffee cups in hand, chatting as if they’d just come out of brunch, not my child’s hospital room.
I didn’t stop. I pushed past them and walked into Emma’s room.
Her lips were pale. Her breathing was too fast. The IV pole hummed quietly next to her bed.
And hanging from it was a clipboard.
A consent form.
Signed by Claire.
Emma looked at me, voice barely a whisper.
“Mom… they said you were too busy.”
That sentence cut deeper than anything else in that room.
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