the hospital to tape it to the closed door of Dr. X’s office. I had signed it and on the way back to my bed I began to worry. What if I had done some… - Rachel Naomi Remen

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the hospital to tape it to the closed door of Dr. X’s office. I had signed it and on the way back to my bed I began to worry. What if I had done something really foolish? If the surgical resident didn’t care about such things, why should Dr. X? I was off call the next day and, exhausted, I spent most of the time asleep. When I returned to the hospital for the evening shift, the pediatric day resident told me that Immy was no better. For the next few hours I took care of whatever was most urgently needed on the service, but later in the evening I stopped by the Intensive Care Unit to examine Immy and speak with her family. I found her parents in the waiting room. Together we went to see Immy. She was still unconscious. Leaning over to listen to her chest, I suddenly noticed a medal pinned to her hospital gown. Turning to her parents in relief, I asked if it was another one. “No,” her mother said, “it was the same one that was lost.” Dr. X had come that afternoon and brought it to them. I told them how glad I was that it had been found. “Yes,” her father said. “We are too.” Then he smiled. “She is safe now, no matter what happens,” he told me.