Page 146 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

The next morning, Dr. John came for his morning round. “So, you did change your mind yesterday,”
he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How is the baby doing?”
“He is doing fine, doctor,” I said, scratching my head. “His abdomen was soft when you called us. And
he had pooped. So, I thought—”
“No problem,” he said, tucking up the baby’s shirt. “We’ll operate on him if required.”
I sighed a relief. “Thank you so much, doctor.”
Rinchen recovered. He could sit and eat. But one evening, he ran on high fever, and his lips turned
pale. He groaned harder than ever.
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Choki. “What’s the matter with him?”
“I will phone Dr. John.” I dialed Dr. John’s number. “Doctor, please come fast. Rinchen—”
“Relax, please,” he said. “I’m coming.”
He arrived after fifteen minutes and felt Rinchen’s abdomen. “We must operate on him.”
“Go ahead, please,” I said.
“Tomorrow.”
“But he won’t survive the night.”
“Don’t worry. I prescribed him some antibiotics.”
As presaged, Rinchen vomited and groaned all night.
Dr. John arrived at 7:00 am and examined Rinchen. “To the operating theatre right away!” He turned
back to the nurse. “Nurse, call the ambulance, hurry. I will be there in minutes.”
At the operating theatre, I said, “Where’s anybody? Where is Dr. John?”
Rinchen spewed stool now, but Dr. John didn’t turn up.
“Go find the surgeon!” blurted Choki. “My baby is dying!”
I scurried to the operation theater door and peeped in. “Hello, anyone there? Hello?”
Choki held up the baby and shouted, “Call the surgeon, please.”
About fifteen minutes later, Dr. John scurried up the steps, carrying a blue satchel. “How’s the baby?”
“Please hurry, doctor,” I said. “He is vomiting stool now.”
“Relax,” he said, getting inside the theater. “I will call you.”
We waited at the operation theater door to hand over the baby. After five minutes, a nurse came out.
“The anesthetist has not come,” she said. “You must wait.”
“Oh, no!” I said. “When is he coming?”
“Dr. John phoned him. He should be on his way. Please relax.”
“Relax?” I muttered, nervously tapping the file in my hand. “My baby is on the brink of death! You’re
telling me to relax?”
Minutes later, a man in a green gown came and introduced himself as the anesthetist. “See, this
operation involves high risk. The baby will be under the anesthetic procedure. Since he is vomiting, there is
a risk of choking but don’t worry, we will try our best.”
“Okay, doctor,” I said, feeling rather hasty about his unhurried briefing. “Go ahead, please.”
As the nurse carried him into the OT, he cried and stretched out his tiny frail hands to us in a horrified
expression. Choki and I waved to him until he disappeared behind the door. “Bye, Rinchen.”
His crying soon trailed away, and for a moment, everything became so silent. I couldn’t hold back the
tears, remembering the blissful moments we had spent.
Choki buried her head in my chest and sobbed. “Why is God punishing my baby?”
“Keep faith in God,” I said. “He’ll be okay.”
We embraced each other and sobbed as people watched us. In the waiting room, I read the baby’s
horoscope. Two and half hours later, I traipsed to the OT door and peeped in. A young nurse walked out.
“Excuse me, nurse?” I said. “Doctor John’s operating my baby. Do you have any idea about it?”
“Oh, I see,” she said, “He was supposed to be operated on last week, wasn’t he?”
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