Chapter 3 - The Emergency Room
The paramedics came quickly.
Noah hated every second.
The cervical precautions.
The ambulance.
The unfamiliar voices.
The hospital lights.
I rode beside him.
Margaret did not.
Police remained at the house.
Rosa gave a statement.
The paramedics took mine in fragments.
At the children's hospital, physicians evaluated Noah urgently.
Head imaging was considered based on his age, mechanism of injury, and clinical findings.
The medical team explained risks and benefits.
No television-style certainty.
No doctor glancing once and declaring:
“He's perfectly fine.”
A fifteen-month-old tumbling down stairs after a kick is serious.
Noah had a small nondisplaced fracture near his left clavicle.
Multiple bruises.
A minor scalp swelling.
Doctors monitored him for signs of concussion.
No intracranial bleeding was found.
No spinal fracture.
No abdominal injury.
No surgery.
He remained under observation because toddlers cannot reliably tell you what hurts or whether symptoms are changing.
He kept reaching for me with his uninjured arm.
Every time a nurse approached, his fingers tightened around my shirt.
I whispered:
“I'm here.”
Again.
Again.
Again.
The attending physician asked:
“Who caused the fall?”
“My mother.”
“Did you see it?”
“I saw the end.”
Then I corrected myself.
“I entered as he came down. I heard what she said afterward.”
“Anyone else witness the start?”
I thought.
Security cameras.
The foyer camera covered the door and part of the staircase.
I had almost forgotten.
May you like
Our attorney would later preserve that footage.
At the hospital, all I could think about was Noah's breathing.
