The Surgeon places hands on belly and the diagnosis is clear
The call comes in at 9pm or so. The patient sounds sick as all hell. The Surgeon listens to the random assortment of numbers and vitals the nurse provides and clicks off his cell. He finishes reading a boring Berenstain Bear story to his daughter and tucks her into bed. He looks at the clock and runs some mental numbers. By the time he arrives at Hospital, close to ten. See the …
The Surgeon places hands on belly and the diagnosis is clear

















