Page 111 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“Everything. The visiting hour is 6:00 pm to 8:00 pm. That means you still have time. So, buy something for your
wife. Starting tomorrow, you can get meals from the guest house.”
“Thank you, Dasho.”
I ordered a plate of chicken biryani for Choki.
The next day, Dr. S.K Mitra conversed with the nurse. “Take the baby for an X-ray. Show me the report in the
evening.”
It took two hours as there were other patients in the queue.
In the evening, Dr. S.K Mitra examined the X-ray report. “The report isn’t clear. We must conduct another test.
Nurse, take the baby for Anorectal Manometry tomorrow.”
On October 27, a Manipuri nurse escorted us to the ambulance outside.
“Where are you taking us to?” I asked.
“To another hospital,” she said. “Huge hospital.”
My heart thudded. “Why must we go to the other hospital?”
“We don’t have a machine in our hospital.”
“How come your hospital doesn’t have one?”
She grinned at me. “How would I know? I am only a nurse, not the owner or CEO.”
I glanced at the nurse over my shoulder and whispered to Choki. “They are up to something. Why should they
take our baby to another hospital?”
“What makes you think that way?” whispered back Choki.
“I heard most of the hospitals in Kolkata sold organs.”
Her brows furrowed. “Shh, keep quiet.”
We entered a gate. The 3-D letters on the facade of the enormous building gleamed. It said: Apollo Gleneagles
Hospital.
“Wow, that’s colossal,” I said.
“See, it’s a reputed hospital,” said Choki. “No more nagging suspicions now.”
But this so-called nagging suspicion still lingered in my mind. I looked around with strange feelings. The nurse
took us upstairs on the escalator. On the second floor, we walked straight to the fifth door in a row. The door was
open. She craned in.
“Yes?” said a female voice from inside.
The nurse showed her the papers. “Dr. S.K. Mitra’s patient.”
“The radiographer is out of the town,” said the desk attendant. “He will return after two hours.”
“Okay, we’ll wait outside,” said the nurse.
Outside, we took photos and strolled around the hospital vicinity. People walked in and out, carrying yellow
plastic bags that bore the name and logo of the hospital.
“I suppose this hospital has a good reputation,” I said, looking at the gorgeous bags.
“Didn’t I tell you?” said Choki. “This hospital is much better than AMRI Hospital.”
“Undeniably.” I racked my brain. “How come our Liaison Officer never admitted our baby to this hospital?”
“Ask the nurse,” said Choki.
“Excuse me, nurse. Is AMRI Hospital linked to Apollo Gleneagles Hospital?”
“Um, to some extent, yes. Dr. S.K. Mitra works here, too.”
My eyes popped out. “Oh, really? So, this is the reason he sent our baby here?”
“Maybe—”
“Hurry up, the radiographer is here,” said the desk attendant, looking down from the verandah.
The machine didn’t function. The radiographer mended it and took the test. Back at AMRI hospital, the nurse
showed the report to Dr. S.K. Mitra, but he said the report was vague.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Get ready for the surgery.”
“Straight away surgery?” I said. “When?”
“Tomorrow. I have gone through the baby’s referral letter and the discharge summary.”
My heart thudded at his impetuous decision, but I couldn’t refuse. “Okay, doctor.”
Dr. S.K. Mitra explained the procedure of the surgery to us. “The baby’s intestine is narrow. We will remove this
portion.”
Choki and I nodded, paying attention to every detail of his explanation. Deep inside, I felt something was not
right; like, my heart thudded, and an ache started deep in my stomach.
October 28, 2008, we carried the baby to the operating theater at 8:00 am. Dr. S.K. Mitra beckoned us to the OT
door. “We will operate on the baby now.”
“Okay, doctor,” I said, draping my arm around Choki’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

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