Off The Record

A Rich Man Mocked Me For Bringing My Screaming Newborn To The ER—Seconds Later, The Doctor Revealed The Truth

Published on November 17, 2025

I was afraid and fatigued when I took my newborn to the emergency room in the middle of the night. I didn’t think a doctor would make all the difference or that the man across from me would make things worse.

I’m Martha, and this is the most exhausted I’ve ever been.

I used to joke in college that I could get by on terrible choices and iced coffee. Now it’s simply whatever’s left in the vending machine at three in the morning and a lukewarm formula.

I’m currently living my life there, relying on panic, caffeine, and instinct. For a young lady I hardly know but already adore more than anything else.

Olivia is her name. Her age is three weeks. She also couldn’t stop weeping tonight.

It was only the two of us in the emergency department waiting area. Still wearing the soiled PJ trousers I’d given birth in, I was slumped in a hard plastic chair, not that I gave a damn about my appearance.

Olivia wailed while one arm held her against my chest and the other attempted to balance her bottle.

Her voice was raspy from crying for hours, and her legs were kicking as her small fists balled up close to her face. The fever had struck without warning. She had a burning sensation on her skin. It wasn’t typical.

“Shh, baby, Mommy’s here,” I rocked her gently while whispering. Despite my dry throat and cracked voice, I continued to whisper it.

She continued.

My stomach ached. The stitches from the C-section were not healing as quickly as they should have. There was no time for the ache, so I had been ignoring it. I had no space in my mind for anything else because of the diaper changes, feedings, sobbing, and ongoing fear.

I became a mom three weeks ago. By themselves.

I notified the father, Keiran, that I was pregnant, and he disappeared. After taking a quick glance at the test, he drew his jacket and whispered, “You’ll figure it out.” I didn’t see him again after that.

What about my parents? Six years prior, they had perished in a vehicle accident. I was living on granola bars, adrenaline, and what kindness the world still had, barely hanging on, and alone in every way that mattered.

I prayed to a God I wasn’t sure I still believed in to allow my kid be okay at the age of 29, bleeding into maternity pads, and without a job.

I was calming my baby girl and doing my best not to lose it when a man’s voice broke through the waiting area.

“Unbelievable,” he declared emphatically. “How long are we expected to sit here like this?”

I raised my head. A man in his early forties sat across from us. His hair was combed back as if it had never been perspiring. Every time he made a gesture, a gold Rolex gleamed on his wrist. He had a sour face and a sharp suit, as though he had been forced against his will into the realm of commoners.

He snapped his fingers in the direction of the front desk and tapped his immaculate loafers, which were most likely Italian.

He called, “Excuse me?” “Is it possible to expedite this already? There are some of us who have lives to return to.”

Evidently accustomed to this type of situation, the nurse behind the counter gave him a quick glance. That was her badge: “Tracy.” She maintained her composure.

“The most urgent cases are being treated first, sir. Wait for your turn, please.”

He gave a loud, phony laugh. Then he gestured directly at me.

“You mean you’re kidding? She? She appears to have come in off the street. And Jesus, that child. Are we truly putting a screaming brat and a single mother before the individuals who fund this system?”

I sensed the change in the room. Eye contact was avoided by a woman wearing a wrist brace. Beside me, a teenage kid tightened his jaw. No one spoke.

I kissed Olivia’s wet forehead as I glanced down at her. My hands trembled from fatigue and the weight of being too broken to fight back, not from fear because I was accustomed to people like him.

He continued.

He whispered, “This is why the entire country is collapsing.” “People like her waste the resources, while people like me pay the taxes. The entire place is a farce. My regular clinic was filled, but I could have gone private. I’m stuck here now dealing with charity situations.”

Tracy held her tongue even though it seemed like she wanted to answer.

He extended his legs and leaned back as if he owned the floor beneath them. The louder Olivia’s cries got, the bigger his smirk.

With a hand gesture, he replied, “I mean, come on,” as if I were a smudge on his windshield. “Observe her. She most likely comes here once a week merely to attract attention.”

Something inside of me broke at that very moment. I avoided shedding a tear as I looked up and met his eyes.

“I didn’t ask to be here,” I stated in a firm yet quiet voice. My kid is ill, which is why I’m here. I’m not sure what’s happening, but she has been crying for hours. However, feel free to proceed. Tell me more about the difficulties you face in your expensive suit.

He gave an eye roll. “Oh, spare me the sob story.”

The teenage lad sitting next to me moved around in his chair. The double doors to the emergency room exploded open just as he appeared to be about to speak.

A scrub-clad doctor burst in. His eyes darted about the room as if he already knew what he was looking for.

The man in the Rolex straightened his jacket and got a little up.

He muttered, “Finally,” as he adjusted his cufflinks. “Someone competent.”

Everything in the waiting room changed at that particular moment.

The man wearing the Rolex was not even looked at by the doctor. His attention was fixed on me as he walked right by him.

He reached for gloves and said, “Baby with fever?”

I got up and held Olivia tight. “Yes.” “She’s three weeks old,” I answered, my voice shaking with panic and tiredness.

He said, “Follow me,” without hesitation.

There was hardly time for me to get my diaper bag. Olivia’s cries had become weaker and softer as she wept on my chest. I was even more frightened by that.

The man with the Rolex behind me leaped to his feet as if he was in shock at what he was witnessing.

He snapped, “Excuse me!” “I’ve been waiting over an hour with a serious condition!”

The physician paused, turned slowly, and folded his arms. “And you are?”

“Jackson.” He said, “Jacob Jackson,” as though his name alone should have gotten him a standing ovation and an examination room. “chest ache. radiating. I looked it up on Google—it might be a heart attack.”

The physician cocked his head, observing him intently. “You’re not white. You don’t perspire. Not having trouble breathing. You arrived without incident, but you’ve been loudly harassing my employees for the past 20 minutes.”

The undertone was harsh, yet his voice remained calm. “I’ll bet you ten bucks you sprained your pectoral swinging too hard on the golf course.”

The entire waiting area went cold. Then a strangled laugh came from someone. Someone else snorted. Tracy, the nurse, smirked slightly and glanced down at her computer as if she didn’t want to be seen having fun.

Jacob was stunned. “This is outrageous!”

The physician disregarded him. Then he looked around the room. “This infant,” he remarked, pointing to Olivia in my arms, “has a fever of 101.7.” That’s a medical emergency at three weeks. Within hours, sepsis may occur. It could be deadly if we don’t take quick action. She will go ahead of you, sir.

Jacob made another attempt. “But—”

“With a pointed finger, the doctor interrupted him. Additionally, I will personally escort you out of my hospital if you ever speak to my personnel in such a manner again. I’m not impressed by your wealth. I’m not impressed with your watch. And I’m not impressed by your entitlement at all.”

There was silence for a moment.

Then there was a slow clap from behind. Another person joined in. Before long, the whole waiting area was cheering.

As the cacophony increased, I stood there in shock, clutching my infant. Tracy winked at me and muttered, “Go.”

Although my knees were a little unsteady, I held Olivia tightly as I followed the doctor into the hallway.

The exam room had gentle lighting, was cool, and was quiet. Even though Olivia was no longer crying, her forehead was still extremely hot.

The physician, whose name tag said “Dr. Robert,” calmly asked me questions as he examined her softly.

He put a tiny thermometer under her arm and inquired, “How long has she had the fever?”

My response was, “It started this afternoon,” She refused to eat much and has been picky. She simply wouldn’t stop weeping tonight.

He gave a nod. “Any cough or rash?”

“No. Only the crying and the fever.”

He examined her breathing, her belly, and her skin slowly. As though my life depended on it, I observed every movement.

He said, “Good news,” at last. “A minor viral infection appears to be the cause. No symptoms of sepsis or meningitis. The lungs are transparent. The oxygen content is acceptable.”

I let out a breath so forceful that I almost fell into the chair next to me.

“You were able to catch it early. We’ll give her a medication to lower her fever. Make sure she drinks enough water. She will require rest, but she will recover.”

My eyes filled with tears. I nodded while covering my lips.

“I’m grateful.” “I’m so grateful,” I muttered.

He grinned. “Bringing her in was the correct thing for you to do. Don’t allow others, like the guy outside, to make you question who you are.”

After a little while, Tracy came in with two small bags.

Gently, she handed them to me and said, “These are for you,”

I took a look inside. One had a few baby bottles, some diapers, and samples of formula. The other included baby wipes, a small pink blanket, and a letter that said, “You’ve got this, Mama.”

“Where did these come from?” My throat constricted once more as I asked.

“Grants. Moms who have been in your shoes. A few of the nurses also contribute.”

Trying not to cry, I blinked quickly. “I didn’t think anyone cared.”

Tracy’s tone grew softer. “You’re not by yourself. You’re not, even though it may feel that way.”

“Thank you,” was all I could say, so I muttered it once more.

I changed Olivia’s diaper, put her in the provided blanket, and prepared to depart once the temperature subsided and she fell back asleep. By that time, the hospital had settled down. The harshness of the fluorescent lights had subsided.

Jacob was still sitting there, red-faced and with his arms crossed, as I made my way back through the waiting area toward the exit. He had lowered the sleeve of his coat over the Rolex. Nobody talked to him. When I went by, some folks turned their heads away.

But I gave him a direct glance.

I grinned as well.

Quiet and serene, without a condescending smile. The smile sent the message, “You didn’t win.”

Then, feeling stronger than I had in weeks, I stepped out into the night with my baby safely in my arms.