Chapter 4 - Red Zone Intake
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At 8:39 a.m., I pulled up to the emergency bay of St. Jude's Children's Hospital.
Before I could even put the car in park, the automatic double doors slid open, and two nurses in dark blue scrubs sprinted out with a small pediatric gurney.
I jumped out of the car and unbuckled Emma. The lead nurse took my daughter into her arms with practiced, swift movements, laying her down on the white sheet.
"What's her name?" the nurse asked as they wheeled the gurney rapidly down the bright corridor.
"Emma! Emma Miller!" I ran alongside them, holding onto Emma’s cold, tiny shoes. "She's four years old!"
"What caused the injury?"
"A hot cast-iron skillet," I choked out, tears running down my face. "It hit her right on the side of the head and face."
The nurse called out over her shoulder as we reached the heavy double doors of the trauma room. "Pediatric Trauma Room 2! Possible skull fracture, facial burns, severe concussion!"
A doctor stepped out and blocked my path, placing a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder.
"Mom, you need to wait right here," he said softly. "We need space to work on her."
The doors closed in my face.
I stood under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway, completely alone. I looked down at my hands. Dried syrup from our morning prep was still streaked across the cuff of my sweatshirt.
A receptionist named Kara approached me with a clipboard and a cup of cold water.
"Ma'am, I need you to fill out the intake form," Kara said gently, handing me a pen.
I looked down at the paper. In her rush, Kara had written Emma’s age as five.
"She’s four," I corrected immediately, my voice trembling. "She turned four two months ago."
I flipped to the second page of the form. The line read: Briefly describe how the injury occurred.
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I held the pen over the paper until a dark dot of black ink soaked through the page.
Then, with a shaking hand, I wrote: My sister threw a hot skillet at my four-year-old daughter's face during breakfast.
