But the doctor walked right past him and stopped in front of me. “Baby with fever?” he asked.

I clutched Olivia tighter, my heart racing. “Yes. Three weeks old.”

“Chest pain! Could be a heart attack!” the man suddenly shouted, desperate not to be ignored.

The doctor turned, cool as stone. “You’ve been yelling for twenty minutes. No sweating, no pale skin. You pulled a muscle golfing. This baby could die in hours. She goes first.”

The room went silent. And then—it happened. The waiting room erupted into cheers. People clapped, some even called out “Amen” and “That’s right!”