Classic Novel
Chapter 809
Timothy shook his head, "I'm afraid it's not that simple. As far as I know, Dr. Daisynes really isn't seeing patients anymore. After his stroke last year, his recovery hasn't been great. Even the renowned Dr. Daisye couldn't convince him to come out of retirement, and they've Remington replied in a determined tone, "Where there's a will, there's a way. We've got to at least try."NôvelDrama.Org © content.
been friends for years."
Timothy nodded, "Alright, I'll check with my grandfather. Then you can bring Liz over, and I'll set up a meeting for you."
Remington gave Timothy a pat on the shoulder before turning to open the hospital room door.
Jerome, lying in the hospital bed, looked over with a distant smile. "Thanks for your help tonight, Mr. Dashiell. I'm alright now, and I know you're busy, so I won't take up any more of your time."
Remington approached and nodded at Jerome before turning to Lizetta. "I asked around, and Mr. Madden's IV won't be finished until after midnight. It's best if he stays overnight for observation. I've arranged a room for him; the emergency ward is too noisy, and he won't be able to rest properly."
They were currently in a temporary room in the emergency department. If Jerome didn't stay overnight, would Lizetta have to stay and take care of him? And when the IV finished in the early hours, would they both go home, with Jerome pretending to be weak, making Lizetta-kind-hearted and easily swayed-stay up all night caring for him?
Remington wanted to eliminate that possibility.
"No need to stay overnight..." Jerome began to protest, but Timothy, who had followed Remington in, interrupted.
"Mr. Madden, you should listen to the doctor. Come on, everything's set. Don't be shy; I'll help you to your room. It's not far, we'll be there in no time."
Timothy greeted Lizetta and then started pushing the IV stand, helping Jerome up from the bed. As Lizetta moved to follow, Remington gently took her hand.
"We still need to handle the admission paperwork. Come with me to take care of it."
Lizetta looked at Remington, suspicion in her eyes. He had already arranged a room, yet the admission paperwork wasn't done?
Remington appeared innocent and sincere as he explained, "This isn't the Dashiell hospital. I don't have any special privileges here. We still need to go through the admission process."
Lizetta accepted his explanation and nodded, following him in another direction.
However, when they reached the billing window, they saw a woman holding a crying child at the front of the line. The baby was wailing loudly, and the woman seemed to be struggling with the billing staff, causing a backlog of other patients' families waiting to pay.
Some people were urging her to hurry, white others criticized her, and the child's mother, both anxious and frustrated, snapped at the child, "Stop crying! All this crying is driving me nuts."
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With that, she smacked the child on the back a couple more times. The people in line frowned at her actions.
"How can you hit your child like that? Are you even his mother?"
"The kid is sick and uncomfortable; if you're not going to comfort him, at least don't be harsh. He's practically gasping for air from crying."
"It's freezing, and the child has a fever. Why haven't you dressed him warmer?"
Seeing those who had been rushing her now criticizing her for being rough with the child, the woman became angrily embarrassed, her face turning red as she retorted, "My child, my business!" She smacked the child again, "Told you to stop crying!"
The baby's little body shook with the
impact, looking like he could fall
from the woman's arms at any moment. Lizetta instinctively stepped forward, steadying the baby's head. To her shock, the baby feft burning hot with fever.