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Chapter 2

Author: Greedy Pass
Caroline spoke with a steady tone. "Dr. Aldrich is the top of the field in this province. She has seen more children than you could count in a lifetime.

"She already said to observe. Do not be reckless and make a fool of yourself in front of the whole hospital."

Caroline waved the nurse over, signaling for the baby to be taken away.

I stepped in front of the nurse. My voice shook. "Dr. Whitby, let me run one exam. Just one. I promise nothing will go wrong."

"Promise?" Margot closed the distance between us in two strides. She backed me into a corner until the cold wall pressed against my spine.

"I spent thirty years in pediatrics and there are still cases I could not call with certainty. And you, a resident, have the nerve to guarantee results?

"Your hospital cycles through a new batch of graduates every single year. The ones I actually thought were worth a second look? I could count them on one hand.

"You finished your degree, rotated for three months, and now you think you are some kind of medical genius?

"You have absolutely no idea how out of your depth you are."

Her voice stayed barely above a whisper, yet every word landed like a shard of ice. The entire auditorium went silent.

Then the murmuring started.

"That resident has a death wish."

"Aldrich is furious. This is going to be good."

I did not move. On the examination table, the tiny voice stopped cursing and went quiet, then mumbled nervously, "Why is this old bat yelling at him... She is the one who got it wrong..."

Margot turned away, picked up her water bottle, and took a slow sip, as if she waited for me to come to my senses and back down.

The tiny voice came again.

"Hey... mister... are you still gonna help me?"

I looked at the baby's face, already turning purple. The mother stayed on her knees, past the point of crying, staring at me like I was the last thing she had to hold on to.

I took a deep breath and pushed every ounce of fear down.

"Dr. Aldrich, if my diagnosis is wrong, I will resign on the spot."

My voice was not loud, yet it carried across the room.

"And if I am right, you never pull rank on anyone again."

Margot stared at me. Then she smiled.

"Fine. You have a deal."

"I suspect an incarcerated hernia. He needs an emergency ultrasound."

"Incarcerated hernia?" She raised an eyebrow.

"The textbook symptoms are vomiting, abdominal distension, and cessation of bowel movements. Which of those does this child have?

"What medical school did you go to?

"I spent thirty years in pediatrics. I performed over a hundred hernia surgeries. This child's presentation is nothing like an incarcerated hernia."

"There is something trapped inside him. He needs an ultrasound now. Without immediate surgery, the bowel tissue will die."

I turned to the mother. "Trust me."

Her eyes were swollen and red. She looked at me, then at Margot, then down at the baby in her arms, who had gone completely silent. She looked back up at me, and her gaze stayed on my face for a long moment.

She bit her lip. When she spoke, her voice was raw but steady.

"I believe you. When you walked over, he stopped crying."

The ultrasound probe touched skin, and the image appeared on the screen. A loop of bowel was caught in the hernial ring, already swelling with fluid.

"Incarcerated hernia. Imminent bowel necrosis. He needs surgery immediately."

The room went silent.

The operation took twenty minutes. The lead surgeon came out and pulled down his mask.

"Another hour and this baby would have been gone." He clapped me on the shoulder. "That clinical read of yours was spot on."

When they wheeled the baby out, his face was no longer purple, and he slept peacefully.

The mother collapsed against my legs, sobbing. A nurse nearby wiped her own eyes.

"Ahh... that is more like it! That guy really came through!" The tiny voice perked right up the moment he felt better.

"That old bat kept insisting it was colic. Colic my butt! She is the one who needs her head examined."

The nurse wheeled the crib toward the hallway, yet the tiny voice kept going.

"Some pediatric authority. Her diagnostic skills are worse than the sandwich guy downstairs..."

I bit back a laugh and pretended I had not heard a thing.

At the far end of the corridor, Margot stood by the window, her back rigid.

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