I Was Taken To The Hospital And Couldn’t Respond. The Doctors Called My Son, But He Said, “I’m Busy, I’m Taking My Wife To Dinner—She Needs Me Tonight.” Even After Being Told My Condition Was Serious. One Week Later, I Walked Out Of The Hospital And Made A Call To The Accounts Office. Two Hours Later, He Showed Up At My HOUSE IN A RUSH.

A nurse with kind eyes and tired features was checking my vitals. “Mrs. Steven, can you hear me?”

I tried to speak but only managed to croak.

“Don’t try to talk yet. You’ve been unconscious for several hours. You had a severe cardiac episode.

We nearly lost you twice.”

The words hit me like ice water. Nearly lost me twice. “We need to contact your emergency contact,” she continued, glancing at her chart.

“That would be your son, Michael.”

Michael. My only child. The boy I had raised alone after his father walked out when he was three.

The young man I had worked three jobs to put through college. The successful businessman who now lived in a mansion across town with his wife Victoria at age 34. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Please call him.”

The nurse stepped out and I lay there in the sterile silence, remembering 28 years of sacrifice. 28 years of putting his needs before mine. 28 years of believing that when the time came, he would be there for me the way I had always been there for him.

I was naive. Through the thin hospital walls, I could hear the nurse on the phone in the hallway. Her voice was professional but urgent.

“Mr. Steven, this is nurse Jennifer at St. Mary’s Hospital.

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