My Newborn Was Screaming in the ER When a Man in a Rolex Said I Was Wasting Resources – Then the Doctor Burst Into the Room and Stunned Everyone
Exhausted and terrified, I rushed my three-week-old daughter Olivia to the ER at 3 a.m. Her sudden fever burned like fire; she screamed hoarsely, fists balled, legs kicking. I was Martha, 29, a solo mom post-C-section, stitches throbbing, abandoned by her father Keiran and orphaned years prior. Jobless, surviving on adrenaline and vending-machine snacks, I cradled her in stained pajamas, whispering comforts amid my own pain.
In the waiting room, a slick-suited man in his 40s—gold Rolex flashing—complained loudly about delays. He snapped at nurse Tracy, then pointed at me: “Prioritizing a single mom with a screaming brat over taxpayers like me? She’s probably here for attention.” The room tensed; no one spoke. I steadied my voice: “My daughter’s sick. Tell me about your hard life in that suit.”
He smirked. Then Dr. Robert burst in, zeroing on us: “Baby with fever?” Ignoring the man’s protests of “chest pain—possible heart attack!” the doctor prioritized Olivia. “101.7 fever at three weeks is an emergency; sepsis kills fast.” He diagnosed a mild virus, no meningitis, administered fever relief. Olivia would recover with hydration and rest.
Tracy gifted donation bags: formula, diapers, a pink blanket with a note, “You’ve got this, Mama.” “You’re not alone,” she said.
Leaving, I smiled peacefully at the red-faced man, still waiting. Olivia safe in my arms, I felt unbreakable.
