One surgeon quietly studied my scans before looking at the clock.
« We operate now. »
Another doctor pulled him aside.
« Sam… »
« The boy won’t survive. »
My mother overheard every word.
She said Dr. Bennett removed his glasses, wiped them on the sleeve of his surgical gown, looked his colleague straight in the eyes, and answered,
« Then he’ll have every minute I can give him. »
The operation lasted eleven hours.
My heart stopped twice.