My Heart Is Aching

There on the bed, lying unconscious and strapped to different beeping medical devices, intravenous drip and an oxygen mask, was Tyler Young. He was looking like someone who had been run over by a truck.

His face was slightly swollen with a few slash marks and a conspicuous black eye. His slightly dislocated neck was held in place with a cervical collar. White bandages were wrapped around his head, his bare chest, and one of his arms.

Tylor could feel his body trembling as he stepped backwards almost tripping on the blue hospital folding bedside screen.

But Doctor Roch was quick to hold the terrified father and support him.

"That can not be my son," Tylor whispered in a low broken voice.

"I'm very sorry, sir. I wish I could tell you otherwise. But you can be rest assured that we are doing everything within our power to help Mr Tyler recover. He should be back on his feet within two to four weeks."