I walked up to the first nurse I saw. I told her who I was and she told me to take a seat so she could fetch the charge nurse and doctor. I had thoughts in my head of my Timmy sitting up in a gurney with a broken arm or leg; a half embarrassed smile on his face. I could him apologize for ruining a vacation and I had the words to say to him forming in my mind - how I would tease him and I hoped he was going to enjoy sitting on the beach and not enjoy the ocean. I sat there and I looked around the ER. I saw two medics walking out to their Rescue unit. I saw the expressions on their faces. I knew that expression all too well. It was the same expression I had used on numerous occasions involving serious injury or Death.
"I want to see my son. Where is my Timmy?" I was using my cop voice. What the frig for? Did I think I was a Jedi using the Force for a mind trick?
I was told to be patient and that the charge nurse would be with me shortly. I felt my shoulders tighten. I knew that if I stood up I would be in a defensive posture - ready to use my fists, feet, any thing next to me that I would use to protect my person. But why? Why? I was in fear. I was afraid. I thought only of wanting to get to my son. I wanted to protect my son.
A auburn hair woman, wearing glasses and in floral print scrubs came out and told me to come with her. She led me to a room -- the family room where the severity of a patient is discussed with his or her loved ones. A uniformed police officer stood there. The same expression on his face as the medics. A security guard stood next to him in a white shirt; he was a retired cop from all I could tell. We, as cops, know sometimes who wore a badge. There was a second nurse, tall, skinny, blonde, and attractive. She told to have a seat. I sat and waited with her standing next to me.
"Where is my son?"
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