Page 117 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

Dr. John came early in the morning and said, “Bring the baby to the operation theater now. I will wait there.”
The nurse handed me a paper. “Sign here, please,” she said.
I picked the pen from the table. On the bottom of the page was written a high-risk remark.
“What’s this, nurse?” I said.
“Dr. John wrote it,” she said.
“Is there a risk?”
“All the operations involve some risks.”
“But this is different. I’ve never seen a remark like this before. Please wait, I must discuss it with my wife.” I
returned to the cabin. “The operation involves high risk, Ama. What should we do?”
Choki sat indecisive for a while. “You can decide.”
“Um, he poos a bit. Maybe we should cancel the operation. I don’t think he can bear another operation in a short
span. What do you say?”
She hung her head. “Okay,” she said.
I shuffled back to the nurse room. “Nurse, we want to cancel the operation.”
She stared at me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I will inform Dr. John.” She dialed the number and talked for a while. “He said okay.”
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.”

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