The phone rings. "Come now," the voice chokes. "Your dad's very sick. They're taking him to surgery. You need to be here."
Life warps. Former priorities pale. Time crawls, the second hand is barely able to climb the clock face ... 8 ... 9 ... 10. A TV chatters insipidly overhead in the waiting room. Hours grind by, and you start thinking, "It's been too long. Something is very wrong."
And you hold your loved ones and rock together in fear and prayer, not wanting to ask the question that haunts everyone in the room, "Will he come through this time? What if ...?"
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