If you haven’t read the rest of the story yet, start here.
We loaded our son into the car and left for the hospital. It was dark and rain was pouring down throughout the drive to the emergency department. Check-in went quickly. Our son was exhausted and still showing signs of difficulty breathing so it didn’t take very long to be seen. A chest x-ray was ordered immediately and we were settled in to wait for the results. No one seemed particularly concerned so we did our best to relax and wait. We expected to be given antibiotics and sent home.
The nurse came into our room and asked in an unusually timid manner if our son had been seen at one of the other hospitals downtown. We explained a consult we had at one point with an interventional cardiologist, but that we only went once and that doctor recommended against running any tests. I mentioned to her off-hand that we had also done several second opinions at Hopkins. “Why do you ask?” was the next obvious question. Micro expressions danced across her face, all showing signs of discomfort, and she pointedly avoided eye contact. We were to be transferred and they were deciding where. The doctor would be in shortly to answer any other questions. With that she ducked out, having not made any additional eye contact.