Page 116 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“A what?” I ejaculated.
“He said the baby must be operated on.”
“No way!” I curled up on the floor beside the bed. “I don’t believe this.” My entire body trembled as I tried to
figure out the dreamlike news. “Did she say the baby must be operated on?”
Choki fell to her knees beside me and sniffled. “What’re we supposed to do, Apa?”
I draped my arm around her shoulder. “Please don’t cry. God’s there to take care of everything.”
She sniffled harder.
I held the baby up in my arms and nudged his tiny nose, feeling sorry for his unremitting sufferings. As he
panted harder, tears ran down my cheeks. I walked around the room, caressing his skeletal fingers. “Wish I could
share your pain, but I am so sorry, son.” I pecked on his forehead. Unable to bear the angst, I put him in his bed,
sneaked out into the park, leaned my head against a tree, and sobbed my heart out. Not in my wildest dreams did I
imagine he would have to undergo another surgery!
“What’re you doing here?” said Choki from behind. “Come inside.”
I sat beside the baby through the darkest hours of the long night. “Operation? No, I believe this!”
Dr. John arrived at a quarter past eight in the morning, and he felt the baby’s distended abdomen. “Bring him to
the operating theatre.”
“How is his condition, doctor?” I asked.
“He must be operated on now.”
I carried Rinchen to the ambulance waiting outside, but there was no one in the operating theater.
“Where’s Dr. John?” I said, looking around. “Hello! Anybody inside?”
A nurse shuffled out to the door. “Dr. John is with a hernia patient.”
“Oh, no!” I slapped my forehead. “How long will it take?”
“I have no idea, but it takes time. You can go to the waiting room.”
Our poor baby cried. I rocked him around the waiting room. Time seemed to pass sluggishly. “Dear me! When
will Dr. John come out?”
Two hours later, a nurse in a green gown stood at the door. “Rinchen Zangpo!”
I carried the baby to her. “Bye, Rinchen.”
He cried, stretching out his frail arms. As the nurse carried him into the theatre, I raised my head and said, “God,
save my baby, please. Only you can save him.” Listening to his cries that gradually trailed off, I leaned against the
wall and sobbed. It would be the last time I saw him if he didn’t make it. I again looked up and muttered.
“Come, Apa,” said Choki, wiping her tears. “Let’s wait in the waiting room.”
Choki curled up on the wooden bench and muttered prayers. I said the rosary, pacing back and forth. One hour
later, I shuffled to the OT door and peeped in. Pin-drop silence. I returned to the waiting room. “Hope everything is
going well.”
“I hope so,” she said, glancing at the OT door.
Silence reigned over the place and a sense of mortality obsessed my mind. “It’s surrealistic.” I shuffled to the OT
door and peeped inside. Nobody came out, so I returned to the waiting room and resumed my rosary. “God, bless
my boy, please.” I went to the door and peeped in. My heart pulsated as bizarre thoughts leaped into my mind.
“Why is it so silent? What’s happening inside? What if something went wrong?”
A nurse in a blue gown walked out a few minutes later.
“Excuse, nurse,” I said. “We are waiting for our baby.”
“It’s done,” she said. “Wait here.”
Dr. John walked out with the mask on his face. “Ninety percent successful. We did everything we could.” He
patted my back and slogged away.
“Ninety percent successful?” I muttered, watching him slog away. “Why not hundred percent successful?”
A nurse returned the baby on a gurney. I wrapped him in his blanket and carried him to the ambulance. Back in
the cabin, the three on-duty nurses did the post-surgery treatment.
When Dr. John came in the evening, he said, “Don’t worry. The baby will be fine.”
I nodded in silence.
A couple of days later, Rinchen barfed. We could see his intestines through the gaps of the stitches. We informed
Dr. John. He came right away and examined the baby.
“The baby must be operated on again,” he said.
“Hell, no way,” I said, slapping my chest. “Why again, doctor?”
With a sorrowful sigh, he explained the procedure of the surgery with the diagram. “See this? It’s…” He stared
into my eyes. “He gives you lots of stress.”
“Even to you, doctor. We are sorry for that.”
“It’s okay. We’ll try our best.”

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