Taylor’s life had been shaped by a wound so deep, he didn’t even realize how much it ruled him. When he was just a boy, his mother had died because a doctor missed her cancer. Ever since, Taylor carried a heavy mistrust toward hospitals and doctors. It was so strong that, as a grown man, he wouldn’t even move his car when an ambulance was trying to pass in traffic. But one day, that stubbornness nearly cost him everything he loved.
One evening, after dinner, Taylor and his wife Polly sat at the table while their three children scurried off to their rooms. Polly broke the silence first.
“We need to hire a nanny, darling. I can’t handle three kids, my job, and the house,” she said, her voice tired but firm.
Taylor frowned immediately. “A nanny? They’re so expensive, and it’s not worth it,” he replied, shaking his head. He stood up and headed for the couch, wanting to end the conversation.
Polly followed, desperation in her eyes. “Please, Taylor. I have meetings in the afternoon, and even if they’re a bit older now, the kids still need attention. I can’t do it alone anymore.”
Taylor turned, his jaw stiff. “No, you’re lying. But even if you’re not, taking him to the doctor won’t do any good. I’m not moving,” he said coldly, as if the argument was already over.
Polly blinked at him in confusion. “What does that even mean?” she asked, but Taylor had already sat down.
In his mind, her complaints felt exaggerated. Her job isn’t even real, he thought cruelly, though he didn’t dare say it aloud. She worked from home as a writer—how hard could that be compared to running an oil company?
“No. It’s too expensive,” he repeated firmly.
Polly groaned. “We have tons of money!”
“Just because we have money doesn’t mean we waste it. My mother raised me alone for as long as she could. When she died, I handled myself because my father didn’t care. And look at me—I became a millionaire! The kids don’t need a nanny. Just tell them to behave after school,” he said, his tone sharp with finality.
Polly’s shoulders sagged. She didn’t argue further. At ages nine, seven, and five, their children—Mark, Jason, and Mona—still needed plenty of care, but Taylor refused to see it. He believed kids had to be raised only by their parents, no one else. That was how he had survived, and he was proud of it.
But fate had other plans.
A few days later, Polly fainted in the living room. Their eldest, Mark, panicked and grabbed the phone. “Dad! Mom fainted! Should I call 911?” he cried.
Taylor’s voice thundered through the line. “No! Absolutely not. Call Mara. Her number is next to the phone. I’ll be there soon!”
Mara was their neighbor, a kind nurse who worked night shifts. Taylor trusted her more than any doctor. By the time he arrived home, Polly was awake, pale and shaken, while Mara checked her pulse. The children hovered around, frightened.
“So, how is she?” Taylor asked stiffly.
Mara pulled him aside to the kitchen. “Taylor, she needs to see a doctor. Fainting is not normal for a woman her age.”
“We’re hardly young. She’s thirty-five, I’m thirty-eight,” Taylor scoffed.
“That’s still young,” Mara pressed. “She could have anemia or something serious. She needs blood work.”
“Nope. No. Absolutely not.” Taylor crossed his arms.
Mara looked him squarely in the eye. “I know you don’t trust doctors, but your kids are terrified, Taylor. Don’t you see? She needs help.”
Taylor’s face darkened. “We’ll do blood work, but no doctors. My mother died because an idiot misdiagnosed her cancer. She suffered because of him, and I was left with an abusive father. That’s why we had home births. And look—our kids are thriving.”
Mara sighed. “Fine. Do the blood work. I’ll have a friend check it. But Taylor, you need to face your fear one day.”
Tests confirmed Polly had anemia. Some medication helped, and she recovered. But when she asked again for a nanny, Taylor’s answer was the same.
“No. You’re fine now. A nanny’s a waste of money. I’m the CEO of an oil company today, but who knows? I could end up at the bottom tomorrow. We save money for important things.”
Polly didn’t push again, but her eyes showed quiet exhaustion.
One morning, Taylor rushed out of the house. “I’m late for a meeting! Don’t call me—I won’t answer today!” he barked, slamming the door behind him.
But on the road, traffic came to a complete stop. Cars lined up for miles. Taylor tapped the steering wheel impatiently.
Then came the sound of sirens. An ambulance approached from behind, its lights flashing. Cars slowly moved aside to make way—except Taylor.
“Ah, hell no. They’re not getting out of this jam by faking an emergency,” he muttered. He stayed put. The ambulance honked repeatedly, but he refused to budge.
A driver rolled down his window. “Hey, man! Move for the ambulance!” he shouted.
Taylor ignored him.
Moments later, the ambulance driver himself—an older man—ran to his window. “Sir, please! Move your car! I’ve got a child in the back who needs urgent care!”
Taylor’s lips curled in disdain. “You’re lying. Even if you’re not, doctors won’t help. I’m not moving.”
The man’s face hardened. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I won’t move.”
“This is illegal!” the driver warned.
Taylor shrugged. “Sue me. Or call the cops.”
The driver spat on the ground. “I hope no one you love ever ends up in this boy’s shoes.” With that, he got back into the ambulance, swerved onto the sidewalk, and sped away as other cars made room.
Fifteen minutes later, the jam cleared, and Taylor made it to his meeting just in time. He ignored a call from Polly, then another, and another. Finally, a message flashed across his screen:
“Mark is in the hospital! Call me ASAP!”
Taylor’s blood ran cold. He stood abruptly. “Roger, handle this meeting. My son’s in the hospital!” he barked and sprinted out.
His body shook as he drove. Polly knew how much he hated hospitals—she wouldn’t take Mark unless it was life or death.
At the hospital, he burst into the waiting area where Polly sat with Jason and Mona clinging to her legs.
“What happened? Where’s Mark?” Taylor demanded.
Polly’s face was streaked with tears. “He’s in surgery. He hit his head. It was bad, Taylor. His head was bleeding so much.”
Taylor’s chest tightened. He hugged his family. “It’s OK. He’s in good hands. Everything will be alright,” he whispered, more to himself than to them.
Hours later, a surgeon emerged. Everyone jumped to their feet.
“The surgery went well. Your son is stable in the ICU. We’ll monitor him as he wakes, but the outlook is good,” the doctor explained.
Polly sobbed with relief. Taylor, however, pulled the doctor aside. “Be honest with me. Was he really alright?”
The surgeon nodded. “Yes—but only because he arrived in time. If traffic had delayed us longer, the outcome might’ve been very different.”
Taylor froze. Traffic jam? His stomach twisted.
Later, Polly told him, “We were stuck in that awful jam this morning. The driver even had to fight with someone who refused to move! Can you imagine? Who would do that?”
Taylor couldn’t answer. He just sat down, his face pale, realizing the horrible truth: he was the man who nearly cost his son’s life.
When Mark finally woke up and the doctors confirmed he’d recover, Taylor found the ambulance driver—James—outside.
James immediately recognized him. “Wait—you’re the guy who wouldn’t move!”
But Taylor stepped forward and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry. Thank you. Thank you for saving my son. It was him—you were bringing him here, and I… I was such an idiot.”
James softened. “How’s the boy?”
“He’s good. He woke up. Thank you.”
James smiled faintly. “I just did my job. I used to be a paramedic. Now I just drive.”
Taylor asked why he still worked at his age. James sighed. “My wife needs hip surgery. Can’t afford to retire yet. Driving helps, but it’s not much.”
Right then, Taylor offered him a new job—as his personal driver, with triple the pay. James agreed. Soon after, with Taylor’s support, James’s wife Helena got her surgery.
Months later, Taylor even asked James if Helena would work as their nanny. She accepted joyfully—she loved children but never had her own. The kids adored her immediately.
Taylor had finally learned. He began donating to hospitals, funding surgeries for children in need. He let go of his hatred for doctors, realizing one person’s mistake shouldn’t damn them all.
And from that day on, Taylor was always the first to pull over when an ambulance needed to pass.
Lesson:
A childhood trauma shouldn’t control your entire life. Money is meaningless if you don’t use it to protect and care for your family. And sometimes, letting go of fear is the only way to save what you love.