Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a land far away, I was a young nurse in an operating room.
It was a medium-ish general hospital. We did all kinds of cases. I still remember many of mine. One of them more than most.
Our patient was five years old, about a year older than my Dave at the time. She had a broken arm. Badly broken.
I’m not sure how she got to the ER. In any event, her parents could not be located.
She needed surgery to fix her arm.
She couldn’t have surgery until someone signed the consent forms.