The Doctor’s Reaction
The nurse led us into a small examination room. David sat on the edge of the bed, his usual calm demeanor masking the pain I could see in his eyes.
When the attending physician — a tall, composed man named Dr. Reynolds — entered, I felt a flicker of relief. He smiled politely, asked a few routine questions, then asked David to remove his shirt.
The second the shirt lifted, everything changed.
The doctor’s face went rigid. His eyes widened, then narrowed sharply. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, without warning, his voice rang out — loud and urgent:
“Call 911 — right now!”
The nurse froze mid-step.
I did too.
“What?” I gasped. “Why are you calling the police? What’s happening to my husband?”
Dr. Reynolds didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gestured for two other staff members. They rushed in, covering David’s back with sterile sheets as though it were something dangerous — contagious, even.
