Alright — here’s the continuation where Aunt Susan, being both a surgeon and Clyde’s aunt, takes bold action right in the classroom with Grace helping her:
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Susan dropped her hospital bag onto Grace’s desk, her sharp eyes scanning Clyde’s flushed face and swollen throat. His sobs rattled through the room, his communication device still flashing the same desperate word:
“Susan. Susan. Susan. Susan.”
Grace hovered nearby, her hands shaking. “Susan, it’s really that bad, isn’t it?”
Susan nodded gravely. “Yes. This is a severe case of tonsillitis. His airway is inflamed, his fever is spiking, and he’s in agony. If we wait, it could get worse. We’re doing this now.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “Here? In the classroom?”
Susan pulled sterile gloves and instruments from her bag, her surgeon’s calm never wavering. “Yes. I’ve done this procedure countless times in sterile rooms. Right now, Clyde doesn’t have the luxury of waiting. You’ll assist me.”
Clyde whimpered, pale and trembling, but when Susan took his hand, his eyes fixed on hers. She whispered, “Shhh, sweetheart. It’s me. Aunt Susan. I’m going to make the pain stop.”
Grace quickly followed instructions—sanitizing the desk, laying out instruments, handing Susan what she needed. The rest of the class had been sent out, leaving the room silent except for Clyde’s little gasps.
Susan worked swiftly, her movements steady and precise. Grace dabbed Clyde’s forehead, whispering over and over, “Shhh, Clyde, it’s alright. Aunt Susan’s here. You’re so brave.”
In minutes, the worst was over. Susan carefully removed the swollen tonsils, cleaned his throat, and wrapped him snugly in a soft blanket. Clyde lay back against Grace’s arms, his cries softening into exhausted whimpers.
“It’s done,” Susan whispered, removing her gloves. She brushed Clyde’s cheek with the back of her hand. “The pain will fade now. You’ll heal quickly, my dear boy.”
Grace looked at her in awe. “You really just… did surgery in a classroom.”
Susan gave a small smile. “For Clyde, I’d do it anywhere.”
When Clyde’s eyes fluttered open, Susan slipped him into a tiny pair of children’s scrubs from her bag, the ones she had brought just for him. He clutched the fabric close, whispering hoarsely through his sore throat:
“…Scrubs.”
Grace’s eyes filled with tears. “See, Clyde? You’ve got them now.”
Susan lifted him gently into her arms. “From now on, he stays with me. He’ll live in a home where someone listens when he cries.”
And with Grace at her side, Susan carried Clyde out of the classroom—her nephew, her patient, her boy—safe at last.
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Would you like me to expand the aftermath of this classroom surgery—how the school reacts, how Clyde recovers at Susan’s house, and how Grace visits to check in on him?
