The first time I set foot in a hospital was when, a month early, my son was miraculously delivered. My wife suffered a near-fatal amniotic fluid embolism and I became a parent and nearly a widower in the same moment. As my wife lay in a coma fighting for her life, I was schooled about the various units, specialists, diagnostic tests, laboratory, pathology, social workers, administration, risk management, spiritual care, occupational and physical therapy, and even pet therapy. As the days went by, my wife’s survival went from unlikely to possible, then to probable, and, finally, to discharge.

We continued to stay in touch with the incredible nurses and clinicians who so competently and lovingly cared for my son and wife. During a visit back to the neonatal intensive care unit and intensive care unit I realized the hospital had become a second...

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