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At 1:30 A.M., My Nephew Whispered From a Hospital Bed That He Didn’t Fall Off His Bike — The Doctor Confirmed My Worst Fear

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cast, but I can’t go back there. Not tonight. Not with him.”

The drive from my house in Kensington to Foothills Medical Center usually took about fifteen minutes in light traffic. I made it in twelve, my mind racing faster than my truck through the dark Calgary streets. My sister Karen had remarried three years ago to Derek Ashton, a regional manager continue reading …

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