Page 121 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

The next morning, the nurse shifted our baby back to the cabin. Rinchen recuperated with each passing day.
When Mrs. Tara greeted him, he hid in my arms timorously. He could sit and play with his toy. But Dr. John said he
had a long way to go.
“Dr. John is going on leave,” said Mrs. Tara.
“Oh, no!” I said. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“How long, nurse?”
“One week.”
My heart began to thump faster. “One week?”
Dr. John came for his morning round. “How’s Rinchen doing?”
“He is doing fine, doctor,” I said. “I heard you are going on leave?”
He nodded. “I will be back in a week. Dr. Tashi and Dr. Tshewang will treat him.”
“Oh, really? Do you think they know the disease?”
“Don’t worry. I briefed them everything.”
I couldn’t pester him for he deserved a break from his strenuous work. “Fine, doctor,” I said.
The next day at 9:30 am, Dr. Tshewang came. He clucked, seeing the baby’s condition. “Sorry. Now everything is
in God’s hand.”
“Sorry?” I muttered, scrunching my face.
“Dr. John told me everything,” he said.
My stomach lurched. “What does it mean, doctor?”
“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.

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