Page 112 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

The baby’s abdomen was distended. He panted, looking around the room. Though he was only two
days old, he stared at me as if he knew me for months. Wherever I shifted, his ailing eyes followed me as if
he would say, “Dad, I can’t bear the pain.”
My eyes brimmed with tears. “My poor boy,” I said, leaning against the wall. “Only if I could share your
pain, dear.”
The nurses drained out fluids. As the fluid flowed through the nasal tube into the tray, I watched his
abdomen. It didn’t shrink, but he went to sleep.
“Let’s take him to his mother,” said the nurse.
I shuffled after her to the ward. She placed the baby beside Choki, who was fast asleep. “Ask her to
feed the baby when he is awake.”
“I will wake her, nurse,” I said.
Tsheulthrim and Abi were fast asleep on the empty bed, next to Choki. I leaned against the wall and
tended my baby.
“Hello,” said the nurse. “Can you hold the tray for me, please?”
“Sure,” I said, glancing at the wall clock.
It was 3:00 am. She drained out the fluids every half an hour. In good time, I fell asleep, too.
At 9:00 am, a young doctor examined the baby. “Who is the father?” he asked.
“I am,” I replied, stepping forward.
“We can’t diagnose the disease. We’ll refer him to Mongar Referral Hospital. They have a pediatrician,
okay?”
I nodded.
“See, he is not a doll to play with,” he said, setting the stethoscope on the baby’s abdomen. “Treat the
case as serious.”
“Treat the case as serious?” I muttered. “Where on earth have you seen parents celebrating in honor of
a serious baby?”
“You’d better get ready? You’ll start at two o’clock in the afternoon.”
Turning back to Choki, I said, “Don’t you think we should take him?”
She nodded in a grimace. “We must save our baby.”
“Okay. I am going to the bank to withdraw some cash.”
Choki said, “Be quick.”
I scurried to the BOB branch office, above the bridge, and smiled at a young man, sitting in front of his
computer. “Can you check my account, please?”
“Account number?” he asked.
“9641.”
He punched the account number and said, “Three thousand five hundred.”
“Oh, no!” I said. “Withdrawal form, please.”
“Over there,” he said, pointing at a heap of forms in a tray on the table.
Back in the ward, Choki and Tsheulthrim were sobbing beside the baby.
“What happened?” I asked, looking at them aghast.
“The baby has relapsed. I don’t think he would survive.”
“Oh, really?”
“It’s okay,” said the nurse, reading the thermometer. “We’ve drained out the fluid. The baby should be
fine now.”
In the afternoon, the nurse said, “Ambulance is waiting. You can take the baby and mother.”
Abi and the nurse walked Choki to the ambulance. I shuffled after them with the baby in my arms.
The ambulanceman got out and opened the hatchback for us. “Gingerly,” he said, helping Choki lie on
the gurney.
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