She Dismissed My Stroke — Her Mentor Was There

Описание: The ballroom of the Riverside Medical Center glittered with chandelier light and the carefully orchestrated glamour of a major medical awards ceremony. Three hundred physicians, hospital administrators, and healthcare executives filled tables draped in white linen, champagne flutes catching the light as they toasted the evening's honorees. At the head table, my mother sat in a designer gown I knew cost more than my monthly rent, her smile radiant as colleagues congratulated her on winning the prestigious Humanitarian Physician of the Year award.
I sat three tables back, feeling the throb behind my right eye that had started an hour ago intensify into something sharp and wrong. My vision had begun to blur at the edges, the elegant room swimming slightly whenever I turned my head too quickly.
"You okay?" my boyfriend Marcus whispered, his hand finding mine under the table. "You look pale."
"Just a headache," I said, though the words felt thick in my mouth. Twenty-six years old, in good health, probably just stressed from the last-minute invitation to this event. Mom had called two days ago, her voice tight with barely concealed annoyance: "Olivia, I need you at the awards ceremony. My mentor Dr. Elizabeth Reeves is flying in from the Mayo Clinic to present my award. Family presence looks good. Try to look presentable, and please don't mention your little graphic design business. These are serious medical professionals."
The throb sharpened. I pressed my fingers to my temple, trying to massage away the pressure that seemed to be building behind my skull like a wave about to break.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the emcee's voice boomed through the sound system, "it's my honor to introduce our next award presenter. Dr. Elizabeth Reeves has spent forty years revolutionizing emergency medicine and stroke care. She mentored many of tonight's honorees during their residencies, including our Humanitarian Physician of the Year. Please welcome Dr. Elizabeth Reeves."
Applause filled the ballroom as an elegant woman in her late sixties approached the podium. Even from my distant table, I could see the sharpness in her eyes, the kind of focused intelligence that missed nothing.
The numbness started in my left hand.
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