Chief Doctor Fired Me for Saving a Homeless Woman – The Next Morning, He Begged for Forgiveness!

Chief Doctor Disgracefully Fired Me for Performing Surgery on a Homeless Woman – The Next Morning, He Fell to His Knees Before Me

Dr. Hughes has no choice but to defy the hospital’s policy of only operating on financially stable patients after a patient is carried into her emergency room. Rather, she sacrifices her own work to save the destitute woman. She receives a call shortly after that alters everything.

It had only been three months since I became a fully qualified surgeon when everything collapsed.

I’d overcome many sleepless nights and years of study to achieve my goals. I had always wanted to do something like this. My goal was to assist others. to keep them safe. to use every resource at my disposal to transform their lives.

I thus didn’t anticipate that all I stood for would bring me this close to sacrificing everything when the chance to assist someone in need presented itself.

I was tired, my body aching from head to toe, and it was late in my shift. Stale donuts and cafeteria coffee were keeping me up at night. The only sounds in the hospital hallways were the faint beeping of machinery in adjacent rooms and the sporadic whisper of a passing nurse.

After taking a trip to visit the babies and extending my feet, I returned to my ER rotation and waited for the next case to come in.

The ambulance raced in, shattering the unsettling silence. A paramedic carrying a stretcher and a crushed body under a bloodstained sheet burst through the emergency room doors.

“Code Red, Doc,” stated Salma, the paramedic. “Code Blue about ten minutes ago, but we resuscitated her in the field.”

Saying “thank you,” I spoke. “We’ll take it from here.”

What followed was a situation where my career was put at risk in order to save a woman.

She was without a place to live. Since she was missing all of her identification, it seemed likely that she lacked health insurance. Nobody could speak for her.

However, what wounds did she sustain? potentially fatal.

I did everything I could to piece together the story based on her injuries. I deduced that the woman was most likely attempting to flee the cold at the time of her collision.

She had injury to her spine. I knew that the longer I did nothing, the more sensation would leave her from her waist down.

An ethical committee wasn’t necessary to advise me on what to do. If we didn’t take urgent action, her chart was a death sentence. When Salma gave the woman over, I could see it in her eyes. My trauma team appeared concerned even now.

We were aware of what was required.

The woman had lost so much blood that it was doubtful she would be able to walk again without surgery, let alone make it through the night.

The hospital, however, had a clear policy.

Major surgeries were out of the question if you didn’t have insurance unless a sponsor or family member could cover the expenses.

Not enough money? Not successful.

The top surgeon’s comments were already echoing in my mind.

“We’re not a charity, Vanessa.”

Tightening my gloves around one of the woman’s wounds, I stood there attempting to contain the bleeding. I balanced what I had accomplished with the fact that my life was passing me by. I nodded and looked at my head nurse, my throat constricted.

To save lives was the oath I had taken. How could I just watch her die while standing there? Simply due to excessive bureaucratic red tape?

No, I was unable to.

I picked up the phone.

My team worked quickly to prepare the operating room, and I scrubbed in as they got her ready.

In a matter of minutes, I was carrying out urgent surgery. I labored against the clock for hours while Enya’s music played nonstop over the speakers.

Every stitch, choice, and heartbeat she made were all calculated risks. However, my patient was stable by daybreak.

Living.

Though I should have been relieved, there was just a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me that the real fight was just getting started.

I was correct, too. Surgeons are intuitively aware of gut feelings.

After spending a few hours sleeping in the on-call room, I woke up to the hospital in its customary state of turmoil.

As I turned to face the floor, I could hardly contain my exhaustion when I noticed him. Chief Dr. Harris.

He was moving purposefully in my direction. He wasn’t alone, though. Doctors, nurses, and interns were all standing around, observing. The tension in the air made the entire corridor seem to go silent.

My stomach fell out. It was right here.

Dr. Harris was uninterested in making small talk.

He roared, “You performed an unauthorized surgery last night, Dr. Hughes,” his voice resonating like gunfire off the walls. “Thousands of dollars, time, and resources spent on a woman who cannot pay a single cent back!”

I tried to react by opening my mouth to clarify who I was.

But I was completely cut off by his rage.

“This hospital isn’t a charity, Vanessa,” he said. “It was not your place to make that call. We don’t provide services to the impoverished! Who will handle this bill payment?”

The corridor became even more silent, as if that were possible. The only sound was that of machines beeping. Everyone turned to stare at me, waiting to see how I would respond, and my heart thumped in my chest.

“I prevented her death,” I murmured, a little shaky but determined.

He said icily, “And you’ve cost yourself your career.” “You’re fired.”

And no argument after that. Not a second opportunity. I had finished.

I can’t even recall leaving the hospital. Every notion was obscured by a haze of disbelief as my mind spun. I had dreamed of this point in my career for years as I had struggled through med school and dreadful residencies and internships.

only to have everything taken away from me for daring to save a woman who was unimportant to anyone else.

He responded, “Get your things and go.” “I’ll do the necessary paperwork and send it over.”

And that was all.

I returned home unable to sleep at all. Was it worth it? was the constant idea that circled through my mind.

Had I made the correct decision? Or had I really just wasted my whole future on a pointless cause?

“No, Vanessa,” I firmly told myself. “No life saved is a hopeless cause.”

My heart was sinking even further while I sat in bed and drank tea.

My phone rang in the morning.

It was the hospital, requesting that I enter.

“Dr. Hughes?” The phone rang and the voice answered. Riley, Dr. Harris’s assistant, is here. He’s asking you to come in right now.”

“What’s it about?” I enquired.

My pride was hurt, and I wanted to put it all behind me. However, my curiosity overcame me.

“He didn’t say, just that it was urgent.”

Why, after dismissing me in such a humiliating, public manner, contact me back?

I reminded myself, “Just go in, Nes,” and stepped into the shower. “You stand to gain nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

I felt my heart race as I entered the hospital. I knocked on Dr. Harris’s office door, half-expecting another verbal attack, my palms sweating.

However, the expression on his face when the door opened baffled me.

The man appeared to be broken. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his eyes were crimson.

“Vanessa, come in,” he murmured.

My eyes immediately acclimatized to the low light inside, which contrasted sharply with his normally brilliantly lighted office.

He said, “Vanessa, I’m so sorry.”

His remarks astounded me much.

He retreated a step and nearly ran into a chair.

“You saved her…”

“I did,” I hesitantly said.

Although I was aware that I had saved the patient, how was that relevant to anything? save from having me fired.

He said again, “You saved her.” “You saved my mother.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked as I tried to take in what he had said. His mom? Was the woman on the streets his mother?

With his head in his hands, he took a seat at his desk. Dr. Harris parted his lips to say something.

Then everything just fell out.

When Dr. Harris was a little child, decades prior, his parents had gone through a difficult divorce. With the promise that Dr. Harris would never see his mother again, his father had snatched him away from her.

He answered, “But my father was the one who did it.” “My mother did not act improperly. Even though it was him who was squandering our funds, he nevertheless grabbed her money. In the hopes of seeing her again, I’ve been looking for her for years. However, she essentially disappeared. I couldn’t find any family to connect me to her either.”

Thus far.

“When I went to her this morning, trying to see if there was any way that someone could pay for her surgery and stay at the hospital…” His tone faded away.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Doctor Hughes, I knew who she was. I knew it had to be her, even after all these years. She replied, “My father’s genes are strong, and she recognized me too.”

His comments weighed heavily on me as I stood there unable to speak. Was his mother the woman I had saved, the one I had risked all for?

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have known any better,” he replied. “She would have been lost forever.”

A knot formed in my throat, and tears that had not yet fallen clouded my eyes. Indeed, I saved a life. In addition, I had brought a family back together after decades of suffering and grief. There was too much to take in at once.

Dr. Harris had changed all of a sudden from the man who had fired me. Rather, he was merely a humble man who was eager to offer apologies.

In order to establish a fund that would enable the hospital to serve everyone, regardless of their ability to pay, he pledged to assemble sponsors and benefactors.

No one would ever again slip through the cracks.