My Son Called Me From The Hospital. When I Arrived, The Doctor Went Quiet And Said, “You Know He’s Our Chief Of Surgery… Right?”

“Dad,” he rasped.

I gripped the rail of the bed like it was the only solid thing in the room. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

His hand lifted weakly and I took it, careful of the IV taped to his wrist. Carol read off his vitals: temp 102.3, heart rate 118, respirations elevated. His pain was an eight, he said. Maybe a nine now.

“Ethan, I’m going to press on continue reading …