Biker Held The Screaming Toddler For 6 Hours When Nobody Else Could Calm Him Down

Jessica started crying. Not sad crying—relief crying. The kind of crying that comes when you’ve been at the absolute end of your rope and someone throws you a lifeline. Marcus put his arm around his wife, and he was crying too.

“How did you—” Marcus started.

“I’m dying,” Dale said simply, still making that low rumble, still holding Emmett in his protective cocoon. “Got maybe four months left. Lymphoma. When you’re dying, you get real clear about what matters. And right now, what matters is this little guy getting some peace. And his mama and daddy getting a break.”

That’s when Nurse Patricia came in to check on Dale. She’d been looking for him since he pulled his IV out. When she saw him holding the sleeping toddler, she started to protest.

“Mr. Murphy, you have treatment to finish—”

“Treatment can wait,” Dale said. “This can’t.”

“Hospital policy says you can’t just pull your IV—”

“Then write me up,” Dale said calmly. “But I ain’t moving until this little guy’s mama gets some rest too.”

He looked at Jessica. “Ma’am, when’s the last time you slept?”

“I… I don’t remember. Maybe Sunday night?”

“That’s four days,” Dale said. “You’re gonna make yourself sick. Lie down. Right there on that bed. I got your boy. He’s safe. Sleep.”Continue reading…