A 6-foot-4 combat veteran with severe burn scars and trembling hands walked into our NICU. He didn’t look like he belonged. Then, the abandoned, drug-addicted premature baby in bed 7 started crying. Her mother had vanished, leaving her to fight for her life alone. The giant veteran stepped toward the incubator. “Is that the little one who needs someone to sit with her?” he asked. I hesitated. But when he held her, and I saw the name etched on his military dog tag, the entire hospital room went dead silent.
The first time I saw Sarge Ransom step into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Willow Creek Medical Center, I felt a cold knot of pure panic tighten in my …
A 6-foot-4 combat veteran with severe burn scars and trembling hands walked into our NICU. He didn’t look like he belonged. Then, the abandoned, drug-addicted premature baby in bed 7 started crying. Her mother had vanished, leaving her to fight for her life alone. The giant veteran stepped toward the incubator. “Is that the little one who needs someone to sit with her?” he asked. I hesitated. But when he held her, and I saw the name etched on his military dog tag, the entire hospital room went dead silent. Read More
