How a Little Girl’s Memory Helps Save Her Dad’s Life
Antidote Injected
A flurry of activity replaced the agonizing stillness. With practiced skill, nurses prepped the IV, the needle glinting under the sterile lights. The tension in the room eased slightly, like a taut string loosening a fraction. But the air still crackled with unspoken worry as the antivenom began its slow journey through John’s veins.
Lily, sensing the shift in mood, mirrored her mother’s silent vigil. Her small hands were clasped tightly, her lips moving in a silent prayer for her father’s well-being. The head injury, a secondary concern for the moment, wouldn’t be ignored. Doctors continued their work, their skilled hands tending to the physical wounds simultaneously.
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