“You’re my mom,” said the little girl to the doctor when she saw her hands.
The front entrance of St. Jude City Hospital was bustling with noise. Nurses moved in and out, a patient yelled from a wheelchair, and a paramedic slammed the back doors of an ambulance. No one paid much attention to the barefoot little girl wandering the sidewalk. Her clothes were torn, knees scraped, and eyes swollen from crying. She was no older than five. Her skin was dusty, and her thin braids bounced as she walked unevenly, trembling with every step—until she collapsed right there on the cold pavement.
She dropped to her knees in front of the automatic glass doors and let out a heart-wrenching cry. “Please, please don’t go!” Her hands clutched together as if in prayer. Her tiny body shook with fear.
That’s when Dr. Emily Ren stepped out, white coat fluttering in the breeze, stethoscope around her neck. Emily had just finished a 10-hour shift in the pediatric wing. Her mind was foggy. Her body was exhausted. She was planning to…..Read Full Story Here……………………………
