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When it was over, and she was stable, the weight of it all settled in. Outside the unit, her son waited, shaken and exhausted. When I told him she would live, his anger dissolved into relief.
Slowly, understanding replaced resentment as he realized who I was — not the source of his pain, but someone tied to the thread that had kept both him and his mother alive. Recovery took time, but healing went beyond the physical. The past was spoken aloud, softened by perspective and age.
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