That night, I lay awake, jobless, angry — but without regret. I had saved a life. The next morning, Langford called. His daughter, Melany, had been in a crash — internal bleeding. The hospital was overbooked. “You’re the only one who can help her,” he said, voice shaking. I returned to the hospital — not for him, but for her. The surgery went well. When I came out, Langford dropped to his knees. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I was wrong. You didn’t have to help — but you did.”

A week later, I was reinstated and promoted. Hospital policy changed, allowing emergency surgery for all patients, insured or not. The homeless woman I’d operated on survived and got the support she needed to start over. I lost everything by doing what was right. But in the end, doing what was right gave it all back — and more. Because I still believe in the oath I took: to heal, to protect, to save — no matter the cost.