Page 151 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“See…” he pointed at the stoma. “His bowel doesn’t function well.”
“How do you know that?” I muttered. “You’re not his surgeon.”
The next day, Surgeon Tashi came and said, “His bowel has cancer.”
“What are they saying now?” I muttered, turning away from him. “Different doctors with different
speculations? Never mind. Let Dr. John come.”
In the evening, my brother-in-law, Tsheka called me outside the ward. The rain beat the roof and
thunder roared with sharp streaks of lightning. Tsheka’s face was serious.
“What’s the matter?” I said.
“Sorry I must tell you this…” He hesitated for a moment. “Ata Tshechu—”
“What happened to him?”
“He met with an accident.”
My heart thumped in my chest. “Accident? Where? Is he okay?”
“His son, Tshedrup told me that—”
“That what?”
“That he succumbed to injury.”
I dropped to my knees and sniffled.
He patted my back. “We will do everything.”
“Thanks a lot, Khotkin,” I said. “Do everything possible, please. His kids are too young to do anything
else.”
The next day, Khotkin Tsheka told me they had brought the cadaver to the Thimphu crematorium.
“Ama, what should I do?” I said. “They have brought the cadaver here. It will be cremated tomorrow.”
“You should attend the cremation,” she said. “He’s your brother.”
“But the baby? I can’t leave him in this condition.”
“Don’t worry about him. I am here. My mom is here, too.”
“Fine. I will come back right after the cremation.”
“Don’t worry about the baby. He has improved a bit.”
That comforted me. “Of course.”
His Holiness the Je Khenpo presided over the funeral ceremony. As the fire incinerated the body, I
closed my eyes and prayed for his soul. Smoke soared in swirls, and the wind stirred them about, but I
couldn’t stop thinking about the tragedy.
“Life is but plumes of smoke!” I whispered, folding my hands.
A week later, a young German intern came to examine our baby.
“I am Doctor Mueller,” he said. “How is the baby?”
“He is doing fine, doctor,” I said. “I haven’t seen you before.”
“I am attached to Dr. John. He has instructed me to see the baby.”
After he left the ward, I went to the nurse room. “Is that guy a new doctor? I never heard of him
before.”
“Yes,” said the nurse. “He joined recently.”
On the third day, Dr. Mueller removed the catheter from the baby’s stoma.
I got up and waved my hand to him. “Hold on, Dr. John would remove it.”
I didn’t trust his novice hands, but he had removed the tube. It was more than a meter long. Dr. John
had told us it should remain intact until the baby’s stoma functions.
“Oh, no!” I said, holding my chest. “Would the waste pass through the stoma?”
“I hope so.”
“What? What if it doesn’t pass through the stoma?”
“I don’t know. He won’t make it.”
“What?” I glared at him. “You shouldn’t have removed it.”
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