Page 131 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

He nodded. “I am Rinzin.”
“Dorji Wangdi.” I shook his hand. “Is that the lodge we’re staying in?”
“Behind that building,” he said. “After me, please.” He dragged my suitcase along the sidewalk. “This way.”
He jostled us through the crowd to the front gate of RJ Mansion. There, he conversed with the manager. The
manager gave us the room key.
“It’s 150 rupees per night,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said.
“We will have to make the baby’s appointment in the evening,” said the ALO as we climbed the stairs to the
third floor. “I will be back at 3:00 pm. Get ready, please.”
“We will,” I said, turning a key the lock. “What documents should we carry?”
“Baby’s referral letter will do. You must furnish his details at the counter. I will come at 3:00 pm.”
“Sure.”
The room was far in the corner. It was dark and had to be lighted even in the daytime. It smelled of cement and
cockroaches crept up the walls and corners.
“Shit! This room is full of creepy-crawlies!” blurted Choki. “It’s gonna make my baby worse.”
“We must adjust here,” I said. “We’ll clean it.”
At 3:00 pm, the ALO took me to the hospital. People were in a long queue. Sick people were writhing on the
floor, but cashiers at the counter worked at their pace. Mr. Rinzin and I stood in the queue.
“Goodness, the lines are long,” I said.
“No one skips the line,” he said. “Here, everything is systematic. Even at the pharmacy.”
“Really?” I said, glancing at the patients writhing about on the floor. “Oops.”
“Nobody gives a shit.”
“Hell, no way,” I said.
We got the baby’s appointment for Friday morning the next week. So, we took Rinchen there, one hour before.
At the entrance, the security stopped us and checked our hands for the wristband. Only people with wristbands
could enter the building.
“Which floor?” the security asked.
“The second floor,” I said. “Department of Pediatric Surgery.”
It was a ‘first come first served’ basis, but there were many babies before us. At the counter, I submitted the
appointment slip to a man. There was a brown file with Rinchen’s name on it. He put the appointment slip inside it
and slipped it between the files at the bottom of the stack.
One hour later, the loudspeaker blared out our baby’s name: “Rinchen Zangpo, come to chamber No. 02! I
repeat—Rinchen Zangpo, Chamber No.02!”
We hurried in. A bespectacled man in his late 50s and a smartly-dressed young man greeted us with smiles. Both
had curly hair but good-looking men.
“Hello?” they said.
“Hello,” we replied.
“I am Dr. Jacob Checkob,” said the bespectacled man. “He is Dr. Sampath Karl, Jr. surgeon. What happened to
the baby?”
I tucked up the baby’s shirt and showed them the stoma. “Our surgeon said it was Hirschsprung Disease.”
“You may tell us everything. Right from the birth,” said Dr. Jacob.
“You mean his disease?” I said, butterflies flipping my stomach. “Um, he had a distended abdomen at birth. And
he—blah… blah… blah…”
They listen with a rapt expression. Dr. Sampath Karl noted down everything.
“When was the last time he was operated on?” asked Dr. Jacob. “Where are you from?”
“Bhutan,” I said. “Last June, doctor.”
“Take the baby for the Barium Meal X-ray.”
“What kind of X-ray is that?”
“It’s a test performed to help diagnose disorders of the digestive system such as intestinal obstruction, using X-
ray.” Dr. Jacob smiled at us. “In this procedure, the patient swallows a chemical called barium before the stomach is
X-rayed so that we can see the organs on the monitor. For a kid, the barium is mixed with berry flavored liquid. The
patient has to lie on the bed for the radiographer to take X-ray images. The barium moves through the digestive
system. It has to pass through to the large bowel for a normal patient. The X-rays show clear traces of intestinal
obstruction.”
I gaped, listening to his precise explanation. “I see it. Okay, doctor.”
“You must make an appointment for this.”
“We will.”

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