I kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror, whispering, “Hold on, sweetheart, grandma’s getting help,” while my hands gripped the steering wheel tighter with every passing second.
When I arrived, I barely parked properly before rushing inside, and the nurse at the front desk stood up immediately when she saw Ethan’s condition.
“What’s wrong,” she asked urgently.
“My grandson won’t stop crying, and there’s a bruise on his stomach,” I said breathlessly.
She led me quickly to an exam room where another nurse examined him, and the moment her fingers touched his abdomen, he screamed again in pain.
“That’s where it is,” I said, my voice rising uncontrollably.
A doctor named Dr. Harris arrived within minutes, his calm demeanor steady but serious as he examined Ethan carefully and asked when I had first noticed the bruise.
“About fifteen minutes ago,” I said, trying to steady myself.
He pressed gently around the area, and Ethan cried again, which made the doctor’s expression tighten slightly.
“We need to do an ultrasound immediately,” he said.
My stomach dropped as I asked, “Is he going to be okay.”
“We need to check something first,” he replied, not offering false reassurance.
During the ultrasound, I stood beside Ethan, holding his tiny hand while watching the gray images on the screen that made no sense to me until the technician paused and the doctor leaned closer.
“There’s internal bleeding,” he said carefully.
The words echoed in my mind as I struggled to understand them.
“What do you mean,” I asked.
“It appears someone applied significant pressure to his abdomen,” he explained.
I felt the room spin as I whispered, “Are you saying someone hurt him.”
He did not answer directly, but his silence confirmed everything.
Ethan was taken for treatment, and a social worker named Melissa began asking me questions about who had been caring for him, whether there had been any accidents, and if anyone else had been around him recently.
I answered honestly, explaining that only Adrian and Caroline usually cared for him, though both had been exhausted lately.
A few hours later, Ethan was stabilized, and I finally received a call from Adrian.
“Mom, where are you,” he asked, panic already in his voice.
“I’m at the hospital,” I said slowly. “Ethan was hurt.”
“What do you mean hurt,” he demanded.