They whisked us into a room where a pediatric doctor and two nurses immediately took over.
“What happened?” one nurse asked. “How long has he been crying? Any fever? Any new products used today?”
“I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “He started screaming after his parents left. I checked him and found something wrapped tightly… like a hair.”
The doctor, Dr. Naomi Patel, nodded sharply.
“Hair tourniquet,” she said. “It can cut circulation. Let’s remove it.”
Hearing a name didn’t calm me—it terrified me.
With magnifying loupes and delicate instruments, Dr. Patel and her team worked skillfully, gently, urgently.
“Forceps… small scissors… saline… hold him steady.”
Caleb screamed, but the tone began to shift. The shrillness softened. It was working.
Minutes later, Dr. Patel exhaled.
“Got it.”
Caleb’s cries weakened into tired hiccups, the kind that come after too much fear.
“You did the right thing bringing him in immediately,” she told me. “If these strands stay on too long, they can cause serious damage.”
My knees nearly buckled.
“How does this even happen?”