He looked at me, then at the stroller, and his face twisted into pure disgust.
“Ma’am,” he barked, loud enough for everyone in the waiting room to hear, “that noise is unacceptable. I’ve waited a long time for this visit. I paid for priority care. That baby… she’s crying, and it’s disturbing me. Do you even know how dangerous that is? She’s probably contagious and spreading germs everywhere!”
I blinked at him, stunned. “Excuse me? She’s burning up. She has a high fever and needs help!”
“Too bad,” he snapped. “This is a hospital, not a daycare center. Step aside, or I’ll have security escort you out. You’ll have to join the back of the line like everyone else. I paid for the service, which means you clearly do not matter. And frankly, I don’t want to be exposed to whatever disease she’s carrying!”
I felt my chest tighten, my vision narrowing until all I could see was his angry face and his pointing finger. I was shaking, holding my little Wrenna against my chest as her tiny body quivered with fever and fear.
“Sir, please, she’s just a baby!” I protested. “She could be seriously ill. We need to see a doctor!”
“I said MOVE!” he shouted, jabbing his finger directly at me. “Or get out of my way right now!”
I didn’t have anywhere to go. Outside, the rain was still pouring, and the wind was cutting through the parking lot like a knife. The thought of taking my sick granddaughter out there, into the cold and wet, made my stomach churn with absolute terror.
But this man’s glare was burning right through me.
Several people in the waiting room were staring now, some shaking their heads, while others looked away like they didn’t want to get involved. I had no choice but to shuffle toward the exit, my arms aching from holding Wrenna, my heart breaking into pieces.
