After something traumatic happened to him as a child, Taylor stopped trusting doctors. So much so, that even when he heard sirens and saw an ambulance trying to pass through traffic, he wouldn’t move his car. He thought they were all liars. But one day, that stubbornness almost cost him everything.
It all started one evening after dinner. The kids had gone back to their rooms when Polly, Taylor’s wife, sat beside him and gently said,
“We need to hire a nanny, darling. I can’t handle three kids, my job, and the house.”
Taylor leaned back and frowned.
“A nanny? They’re so expensive, and it’s not worth it,” he replied firmly, shaking his head as he got up from the table and walked to the living room.
Polly followed him, her voice pleading.
“Please, Taylor. I have meetings in the afternoon, and even though the kids are a bit older now, they still need attention. I can’t do it alone anymore.”
Taylor scoffed.
“No, you’re exaggerating. Even if you’re not, taking them to the doctor or hiring help won’t solve anything. I’m not spending money on that,” he said coldly.
What he didn’t say aloud—but thought—was that Polly’s job wasn’t even a real job. She was a writer, working from home. It wasn’t like his stressful job as the CEO of a major oil company. In his eyes, she should be able to handle everything.
“No. It’s too expensive,” he repeated with finality.
“But we have tons of money,” Polly argued.
Taylor shook his head.
“Just because we have money doesn’t mean we waste it on unnecessary things. My mom raised me alone, and when she couldn’t anymore, I raised myself. My dad didn’t care, but look at me now—I’m a millionaire. Our kids will be fine too. Just tell them to behave after school.”
Polly sighed and left the room, knowing the argument was over—for now.
Their children were nine, seven, and five. Taylor believed that was old enough to manage themselves for a few hours. He truly believed Polly was just being dramatic. Deep down, he thought hiring a nanny was lazy parenting.
But a few days later, everything changed.
Polly collapsed in the living room. Their eldest son, Mark, called Taylor at work.
“Dad, should I call 911?” the boy asked in a panicked voice.
“No! Absolutely not,” Taylor said quickly.
“Call Mara. Her number’s by the phone. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Mara was their night-shift nurse neighbor. Taylor didn’t fully trust her either—but at least she wasn’t a doctor.
When Taylor rushed home, Polly was conscious again, lying on the couch while Mara checked her pulse. The kids were huddled close to their mom, looking terrified.
“How is she?” Taylor asked.
Mara gave him a firm look.
“Let’s talk in the kitchen.” She pulled him aside.
“Taylor, your wife needs to see a doctor. Fainting isn’t normal for someone her age.”
Taylor waved it off.
“We’re not that young. She’s 35, I’m 38.”
“That’s still young, Taylor. She could have anemia or something else serious. She needs blood work and a check-up.”
“Nope. No. Absolutely not,” Taylor said, arms crossed tightly.
Mara stared at him.
“I know you have issues with doctors, but Polly needs help. Your kids are scared. You need to put your pride aside.”
For a second, Taylor hesitated. Then he revealed something he had only ever told Polly.
“My mom died because a stupid doctor didn’t find her cancer. He misdiagnosed her. So I ended up being raised by a man who beat me half the time. That’s why we had home births for our kids. That’s why I don’t trust doctors.”
Mara softened.
“I’m sorry. That explains a lot. But this isn’t about the past—this is about now. I can help with the blood test and ask a friend to check it, okay?”
Taylor nodded slightly. The tests showed Polly had mild anemia. With medication, she got better quickly. A few days later, she brought up the nanny again.
“Can we please just hire one now?” Polly asked, hopeful.
But Taylor refused again.
“You’re better now. It’s still a waste of money. You never know what could happen. What if my company collapses and I have to work for minimum wage?”
Polly didn’t bring it up again.
One morning, Taylor rushed out of the house.
“I’m late for a meeting. Don’t call me because I won’t answer today!” he shouted, grabbing his briefcase and keys.
He didn’t get far. His usual route was completely jammed. Nothing was moving. He hit the steering wheel in frustration. Then he heard sirens. An ambulance.
In his rearview mirror, he saw other cars move aside—but he refused.
“Ugh, no. Fakers. Trying to cheat through traffic. Not today!” he muttered.
The ambulance blared its horn again and again, but Taylor stayed where he was.
A nearby driver shouted,
“Hey, move for the ambulance, man!”
Taylor ignored him. The ambulance driver himself got out and ran to his window.
“Sir, please! There’s a kid in the back. He needs urgent care!”
“No, you’re lying. Even if you’re not, doctors won’t help. I’m not moving,” Taylor said coldly.
“Are you serious?” the driver gasped.
“Yeah. I won’t move!”
“This is illegal!”
“Sue me. Or call the cops,” Taylor replied, staring straight ahead.
The ambulance driver spat on the ground in disgust.
“I hope no one you love is ever in this boy’s shoes.”
He got back in and drove up onto the sidewalk to get past the traffic. Others moved aside to let him through.
Fifteen minutes later, traffic finally moved, and Taylor reached the office just in time for the big meeting. But then his phone buzzed. It was Polly. He ignored it.
She called again. And again. Until a message appeared on his screen:
“Mark is in the hospital! Call me ASAP!”
Taylor’s blood ran cold.
“Hospital?” he whispered.
He jumped up.
“Roger, handle the meeting. My son’s in the hospital!”
He raced out of the building. Polly would never take Mark to a hospital unless it was serious. He got the hospital name and sped there, barely remembering where he parked.
He burst through the emergency doors, shouting for help. He finally saw Polly sitting outside the operating room, with Jason and Mona clinging to her.
“What happened? Where is he?” Taylor asked, breathless.
“He’s in surgery,” Polly cried.
“Taylor, his head was bleeding… there was so much blood.”
Taylor hugged his family tightly.
“It’s okay. Mark will be okay. He’s strong. We have to believe that,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Hours passed. Finally, a surgeon stepped out.
“The surgery went well. Your son’s in the ICU. He’s stable, but we’ll monitor him until he wakes up.”
Polly dropped to her knees, sobbing in relief. Taylor stepped toward the doctor.
“Please, just be honest. Will he really be okay?”
“Yes, he got here in time. Barely. We were told there was a traffic jam earlier. If we’d gotten here even a little later… well, it would be a different story.”
Taylor froze. Traffic jam?
He turned to Polly.
“You were in the traffic jam this morning?”
“Yes! It was terrible. Nothing was moving. The driver even got out and argued with some jerk who wouldn’t move his car. Can you believe that? But thank God, he drove up the sidewalk. He got us here fast. That man was a hero.”
Taylor went completely silent.
“Kids, let’s go get snacks,” Polly said gently, trying to lift their spirits.
As they left, Taylor sat down and buried his face in his hands.
He had been the jerk blocking the ambulance. His son was inside, bleeding, and he had almost stopped him from getting help.
Tears poured down his face. His chest tightened. The guilt crushed him.
Later, when Polly returned with the kids, she sat beside him and hugged him.
“Taylor,” she whispered, and called the kids,
“Come hug Daddy.”
They wrapped their arms around him.
“Mark will wake up soon, Daddy,” little Mona whispered.
And that’s when Taylor truly broke down.
An hour later, Mark woke up. The doctors checked his reflexes and speech. Everything was okay. He would recover. They moved him to a regular room. Taylor, feeling grateful but still ashamed, asked a nurse where the ambulance drivers were.
She smiled kindly.
“You’re probably looking for James. He’s out back where the ambulances are parked.”
Taylor walked out and spotted James immediately. The older man narrowed his eyes.
“Wait a second. You’re the guy who wouldn’t move!”
Taylor rushed up and hugged him.
“I’m sorry. Thank you. That was my son. You were driving my son. I was a complete idiot. I could’ve lost him. I can’t thank you enough.”
James softened.
“How is the kid?”
“He’s okay. He woke up. Because of you.”
“I just did my job,” James said humbly.
“I used to be a paramedic. Now I only drive.”
“Why are you still working, if I may ask?” Taylor said.
James sighed.
“My wife needs hip surgery. Retirement isn’t an option. Driving helps cover some of the cost.”
Taylor paused and then asked,
“Would you consider being my driver? I’ll pay triple what you make here.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No. I’m serious. I don’t joke about business.”
James accepted. After two weeks, he left the hospital and started working for Taylor. He helped run errands, drove Taylor everywhere, and even watched the kids.
Eventually, he had enough money for his wife Helena’s surgery. Taylor gave him full paid leave and even visited them in the hospital.
When Helena recovered, Taylor had another idea.
“James, would Helena want to work for us as a nanny?”
“She would love that. We never had kids, but she adores children,” James said, eyes lighting up.
Taylor nodded.
“Perfect. Polly needs help.”
After the accident, Taylor finally understood: having money meant nothing if your family wasn’t safe and happy. He no longer hated doctors. He even donated to the hospital so more kids could get surgeries, no matter their family’s income.
James and Helena became part of their family. The kids loved them, Polly was healthy, and Taylor? He was finally at peace.
And now, whenever he hears sirens, he’s the very first one to move aside. Always.
Moral of the story:
- Don’t let your past pain control your present choices.
- It’s okay to ask for help.
- Money means nothing if it can’t protect the people you love.
