“Yes, this is she.”
“This is Catherine Thornton. I’m Senator Thornton’s wife and Marcus’s mother.”
I sat up straight. “Mrs. Thornton, how did you get this number?”
“Your hospital gave me your service line and they patched me through. I apologize for calling so late, but this is urgent.” She paused. “Dr. Chin, I need your help.”
“Is someone hurt?”
“My grandson, my son Jonathan’s boy, Charlie. He’s three years old. He collapsed this afternoon during the rehearsal dinner. We rushed him to Greenwich Hospital. They stabilized him, but the doctors here say he needs immediate surgery. A complex congenital heart defect they didn’t catch earlier.”
My mind shifted immediately into doctor mode. “What’s his diagnosis?”
“Transposition of the great arteries with a ventricular septal defect. The cardiologist here says it’s complicated by”—she paused, clearly reading from notes—“abnormal coronary artery anatomy.”
I closed my eyes. A three-year-old with TGA and VSD with coronary complications. It was exactly the kind of case I specialized in. Complex, high-risk, requiring extreme precision.
“Dr. Chin,” Catherine said, “they told me he needs the best pediatric cardiac surgeon in the tri-state area. When I called Mount Sinai, they said that was you.”
“Where is he now?”
“Still at Greenwich Hospital, but we can have him transported to Mount Sinai within the hour if you can operate. Dr. Chin, please. He’s my grandson. He’s three years old. The doctors here don’t think they can handle this surgery.”
“I’ll meet you at Mount Sinai,” I said. “Have them transport him immediately. Tell them to call ahead and ask for my team. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
“Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you so much, Dr. Chin.”
I hung up and immediately called my surgical team. Then I threw on clothes, grabbed my keys, and raced to the hospital.
Charlie Thornton arrived at Mount Sinai at 10:38 p.m. I was already scrubbed and reviewing his scans.
The coronary anatomy was worse than I’d thought. Both arteries originated from the wrong sinus, which would make the arterial switch operation significantly more complicated. But it was doable. Difficult, but doable.
Catherine Thornton met me outside the surgical prep area. She was an elegant woman in her sixties, wearing what was clearly an expensive dress from the rehearsal dinner. Her makeup was smudged from crying.
“Dr. Chin, I can’t thank you enough.” She stopped mid-sentence, staring at me. “I’m sorry. You look familiar. Have we met?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
She shook her head. “I could have sworn. Well, never mind. Please tell me about my grandson.”
I explained the surgery, the risks, the expected recovery. She listened intently, asking intelligent questions. This was a woman used to making important decisions.
“How long will it take?” she asked.
“Four to six hours.”
“It’s delicate work, but you can do it.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “I’ve done this operation a hundred twenty-seven times. I haven’t lost a patient yet.”
She squeezed my hand. “Then I trust you completely.”
The surgery began at 11:42 p.m.
My team was phenomenal. Dr. Ranjit Patel on anesthesia, Dr. Amanda Foster assisting, nurse Margaret O’Brien running the OR like a well-oiled machine. The arterial switch went smoothly despite the unusual coronary anatomy. I carefully detached the great arteries, switched them, and reconnected them to their proper ventricles. Then I repaired the VSD and reimplanted the coronary arteries in their correct positions.
Every stitch had to be perfect. One mistake and this child could die on my table.
At 4:17 a.m., I placed the final suture.
“Closing,” I announced.
By 5:30 a.m., Charlie was stable and being moved to the pediatric cardiac ICU.
I found Catherine Thornton in the waiting room along with Senator Thornton himself and their son Jonathan, Charlie’s father. All three looked exhausted and terrified.