Chapter 3 – The Crisis
Sarah Benson hadn't left the hospital in three days. Not for a bath, not for food beyond the cafeteria, not for her office. She had practically camped beside Tommy's bed, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, her body aching from sitting in the same chair, her heart constantly tense with worry.
The night had been long and restless. Machines beeped steadily, keeping her on edge, while the soft rise and fall of Tommy's chest under the blankets was the only comfort she had. She hadn't realized how much she had been holding her breath until now.
Her phone buzzed suddenly, piercing the quiet. She almost ignored it, afraid of bad news, but it was their manager calling.
"Sarah? How's Tommy? I just wanted to check in," came the calm, warm voice over the line.
Sarah blinked back tears. "He's… he's holding on. But it's so hard. I… I can't leave him for even a second."
There was a pause, and then her manager said, "I understand. Take all the time you need. Don't worry about the office. Focus on him. We'll manage things here."
A sob escaped her lips. "Thank you… thank you so much." She had never expected understanding like this from her workplace, and in this moment, it felt like a lifeline.
The next three days passed in a blur. Sarah barely slept, hardly ate, and spent her waking hours hovering beside Tommy. She watched every breath, every slight movement, praying silently. She whispered encouragements and soft promises, brushing his hair from his forehead and holding his hand tightly. She had become a fixture in the hospital — nurses and doctors knew her by now, and some even smiled softly when they saw her dedication.
On the morning of the fourth day, Sarah stepped out briefly to grab a small meal from the cafeteria. Her body was exhausted, her hair unkempt, and her eyes heavy with sleepless nights, but her mind was fixed on Tommy. She barely had time to notice the rain outside the windows before a sudden alarm went off in the hospital corridor.
Her stomach dropped. She knew that sound too well. It was the emergency alarm, and it was heading straight toward Tommy's room.
"No… no, not my Tom! Please, no!" she cried, running faster than her tired body could manage, tears streaming down her face. Her shoes clattered on the floor as she hurried down the corridor, following the flashing lights and the wailing alarms.
Doctors and nurses were already rushing into Tommy's room, their movements swift and precise. Sarah tried to push forward, crying out, "Tommy! My baby! Don't leave me!" But a nurse gently pulled her back. "Mrs. Benson, please! We need to work on him. Step aside. You'll be able to see him in a moment."
"I can't… I can't leave him!" Sarah sobbed, her voice breaking. She clutched at the nurse's arms as if holding on could keep her son safe. "Not my Tom! He can't… he can't die!"
The nurse shook her gently, but firmly. "We know, Mrs. Benson, we know. We're doing everything we can. Please, just trust us."
Sarah's cries echoed through the corridor as she was pulled back, standing just outside the door. Her eyes were fixed on Tommy's room, watching the blur of doctors and machines, her hands clutching at her chest as if she could keep him alive with sheer force of will.
Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, too raw with panic to recognize anyone. "Mrs. Benson… calm down," a calm voice said, soothing yet firm. "Everything is going to be okay. We're doing all we can for him."
Sarah looked up and froze. It was him the doctor she had bumped into in the cafeteria just days ago. He removed his mask slightly, revealing a kind but serious face. "You're stronger than you think," he added quietly. "Let's focus on Tommy. He needs you to be strong, too."
Her breath hitched. The familiarity in his voice, the calm in his demeanor, somehow steadied her shaking hands. But it didn't erase the terror in her heart. "I… I can't just stand here," she whispered. "I can't leave him!"
"I know," he said gently. "But we need space to stabilize him. He's still here. You'll see him in just a little while, I promise. You being calm will help him too."
Tears streamed down her face as she nodded, though her body shook violently. She sank onto a nearby chair, burying her face in her hands and sobbing openly. "Please… please be okay, my baby. Don't leave me… not my Tom…"
She could hear the muffled sounds of the machines, the hurried footsteps of medical staff, and the occasional call of instructions inside Tommy's room. Every second felt like a lifetime. She wanted to run in, to hold him, to do anything to protect him, but she trusted the doctor's presence, even if just barely.
Minutes felt endless. The doctor stayed near her, quietly monitoring her, occasionally offering words of reassurance. "He's fighting, Mrs. Benson," he said softly. "He's strong. And you've given him everything he needs your love, your presence. That's more powerful than you think."
Sarah's sobs gradually quieted, her hands still trembling as she lifted her head. "I… I just… I can't lose him," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"You won't," the doctor replied gently. "He's a fighter, and so are you. Let's focus on what we can do right now. You're not alone."
Her gaze fell on the hospital door, her heart still racing, but for the first time in hours, a flicker of hope entered her chest. Maybe, just maybe, Tommy would be okay. And maybe, somehow, she could survive this nightmare alongside him.
Even in the chaos, in the flashing alarms and the frantic pace of the medical staff, Sarah felt the faintest sense of calm. She wasn't alone. He wasn't alone. And somewhere deep inside, she felt the first stirrings of the strength she would need for the days to come.