Page 180 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

I couldn’t contact him for almost one year. All I could ask about him was to a lady with a cellphone.
And every time I rang her, she said Dad was fine.
One afternoon, I got a call from Step-mom. “Dad is very sick,” she said.
I almost collapsed to the ground. “What? What happened?”
“His whole body is swollen and he can’t breathe properly. I am worried.”
“Take him to the Mongar hospital. We’re coming.”
I told my plan to Karma. He arrived home one hour later. We could start only at five in the evening.
The route stretched for over 400 km along hundreds of rough terrains and high mountains. And we would
have to cross four passes that stood at the elevation of 3140 meters to 3780 meters, but the car was kaput.
From Wangdue, the road became bumpy. The moonless night was creepy. We drove through the
hovering mist, stopping at certain places to wipe the windscreen. We arrived at Trongsa at 2:00 am.
“I can’t drive further,” I said. “I need some rest.”
“But hotel?” said Karma, yawning.
“We’ll sleep in the car,” I said, adjusting the seat.
The car jerked. I sat and looked around. It was still dark outside. “Get up, Karma. Someone is around
here. We must move.”
He yawned. “What’s the time?”
I turned the ignition on and read the odometer. “5:00 am.”
Feeling drowsy, I drove up the mountains at Yotongla pass and down the Chimney-Ura bypass. As
expected, Thrumsingla pass was blanketed with thick snow. The car skidded at many spots and Karma had
to push it. We arrived at Mongar in the late afternoon. Straightaway, we went to see Dad. His entire body
was swollen.
“Dad,” I said. “Getting better? How’d it happen?”
He removed the oxygen mask and said, “Feeling better now. Sorry for the trouble, son.”
“You don’t have to, Dad. We’re going to Thimphu now.”
“I will be fine here.”
“No, you are not. I’ll show you to a good doctor there.”
He turned away from me.
“You should go with them,” said Step-mom.
Dad stared at her. “But—”
“Don’t worry about Sonam Wangchuk and Pema,” she said. “I’ll take care of them.”
The next day, a female doctor checked on Dad’s progress.
“How is his condition, Doctor?” I said.
“And you are?”
“I am his son.”
“It’s a lung disease called COPD.”
I made a twitchy face. “What is COPD?”
“Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease.”
“Oh, no!” I said, gasping. “How chronic is it?”
“Too bad. It’s like cancer.”
“Oh, no! Can you refer him to JDWNRH?”
“Maybe, a few days later. His oxygen must reach the normal saturation point between 96% to 98%. Any
level below this is considered dangerous.”
“Oh, really?” I said. “What is the level now?”
She read the reading on the…. “86% SpO2.”
The next day, Dad’s saturation point had increased to 92% SpO2. I requested the doctor to refer Dad
to JDWNRH when she came for her evening round.
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