Nicholas
The four hours she spent in emergency surgery were the longest four hours of my life.
When the red light above the operating theatre finally went out, the surgeon stepped into the waiting room, pulling off his blood-stained gloves. The internal bleeding in her chest cavity had been contained, and her shattered ribs were stabilized with titanium plates, but the smoke inhalation had severely compromised her lungs.
Now, in the high-security intensive care suite of St. Jude’s Hospital, the only sound was the rhythmic, hollow beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor and the soft, mechanical hum of the oxygen pump.
Faith lay motionless in the center of the bed, her pale face framed by dark, disheveled hair, an oxygen cannula resting beneath her nose. Her left hand lay limp on the crisp w
