“You’ll suffer naturally because you’re toxic,” my doctor husband sneered, blocking the nurses from performing a C-section for my giant 10-pound baby as revenge for his intern. I writhed in pain, clutching the bed rails until my knuckles turned white. When the grueling delivery finally ended, the heavy delivery room doors banged open. My husband staggered in, his face drained of color as he looked at the newborn chart, fell to the floor, and shrieked, “No… that’s impossible! Whose child is-“
I simply picked up the rambling, unhinged manifesto he had mailed to my office, and dropped it flawlessly into the courtroom waste bin before walking out the double doors.
The seasons turned. Deep in the heart of winter, a trauma code echoed through Barrett Medical Center. A young, pregnant woman was airlifted in following a catastrophic high-speed continue reading …