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Chapter 4: The Treatment Room

They moved us without further debate. The second physician examined my son while a nurse drew blood and started cooling measures for the 104-degree fever. Dr. Sterling remained focused on the sealed medication bag and the written account of my daughter’s statement. He asked her only clarifying questions—when the switches happened, where the purple bottle was kept, whether she had seen the real medicine poured out—and recorded each answer in the chart before anyone else could reframe it.

My husband tried twice to interject that children exaggerate. Both times Dr. Sterling simply continued writing. My mother-in-law stayed near the wall, arms crossed, repeating that she had only been helping. No one invited her closer to the treatment bed.

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