They told me that he didn’t bother to stop at the front desk. 
He barreled through the door to the back office and stood with a tiny bundle in his hands. 
“I need help…my baby’s not breathing right.”
A medical assistant pointed toward the exam room and he flew in that direction. 
They pulled me from another room, told me what was happening.
Even after all these years, my adrenaline kicks in and I feel my vision tunnel when I hear words like that. My whole body strains to get to that child…lay hands on the baby and see what needs to be done. 

Did you ever see “The Field of Dreams”? In one part of the movie, a child is choking…not breathing. And the doctor walks toward the frantic parents. That’s not the way it happens.

I ran to the room, heard the clanging of the oxygen tank behind me. The father laid the infant on the exam table and stepped back. 
I stepped forward, unwrapped the blankets and lifted up his little shirt. 
I was already pretty sure I knew what was going on but I put my stethoscope against the tiny chest anyway.
I was careful to hide my smile when I turned around.

“Your son has…the hiccups.”