"Hello? Riverdale General? I'm calling to ask whether you have a patient in the ER by the name of Hal Fox..."
Her voice changed.
"You do? What happened to him?"
Something was said on the other end. Then her phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
The life drained out of her. Slowly, she turned to look at me.
Her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor.
She crawled toward me and grabbed the hem of my pants.
"Dora, the hospital said your brother's trachea is severed. He needs surgery!"
"You're a doctor! Save him!"
I looked down at her and said quietly:
"Mom, a tracheal anastomosis requires incredibly precise work."
"In all of Riverdale, I'm the only one who can do it."
"But my arm is broken now. I won't be able to hold a scalpel again for months."
The color bled from my mother's face, shade by shade.
