Page 121 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“Doctor, a referral,” said the medic. “A baby.”
He looked up. “Referred from?”
“Mongar Referral Hospital,” replied the medic, showing the baby’s abdomen. “It’s distended.”
“Straight to the pediatric ward,” said the doctor. “Show him to the surgeon.”
An Ambulance took us to an old pediatric ward in the old building above the gate. Cousin Chedra and
Aunt Choden were waiting there, in front of the ward.
“Oh, no!” said Aunt Choden. “What is the disease called?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Everyone, please move aside,” said the medic.
In the ward, a nurse carried the baby to a cabin and put him in an incubator. “Surgeon is coming,” she
said.
Minutes later, the surgeon arrived. He grinned at us. “From Mongar Hospital?”
“Yes, doctor,” I said.
“I am Doctor Johannes John, the pediatric surgeon.” He tucked up the baby’s shirt. “It’s intestinal
obstruction. Did he poo?”
“No, doctor.”
“The baby has Hirschsprung Disease.” He pointed at the nerves. “It affects the large intestine called
Colon due to the missing nerve cells in the muscles.” His white-grey mustache twitched as he spoke, but
he never stopped to smile. “Without the nerve cells, the muscle cannot constrict the stool out. That’s why
he couldn’t poo. We must operate the baby, okay?”
“We are ready, doctor,” I said, feeling relieved.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Why not now, doctor? I don’t think the baby would survive tonight.”
“I can understand that, but I have a patient now.” He thought for a while. “Fine, I will call you at 7:00
pm.”
I sighed in relief. “Oh, thank you, doctor.”
He smiled and left.
A ward boy came after half an hour and said, “From Mongar Hospital?”
I nodded.
“A taxi driver is looking for you,” he said.
“Oh, sorry,” I said and scurried out.
The cabbie was hauling our luggage out.
I paid the fare. “Thank you,” I said.
“My prayers for your baby, sir,” he said and drove away.
A nurse walked into our cabin and said, “Ambulance is waiting outside. Take your baby to the
operating theatre.”
“Oh, sure,” I said, picking the baby. “Come, Ama.”
When the nurse took the baby into the operating theatre, I heaved a sigh of relief. I felt the baby was in
god’s hand. We shuffled into the lobby.
“You must be hungry,” Aunt Choden said. “Have dinner.”
“Yes, Aunty,” I said. “I am starving.”
She laid the hot case on the bench. “Help yourself, please.”
“I am not hungry,” said Choki, leaning on the bench.
“Please take,” I said. “You have taken nothing since last night.”
Aunt Choden poured us tea. “I brought chicken soup for you.”
But Choki had little.

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