Page 148 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

His face dropped the moment he heard that. “I don’t feel like going there. Summer’s coming.”
“Stay there for a month, Dad. It would help you a lot. If you are not happy, I will come to pick you.”
“Only for two weeks,” he said.
“I would pick you after two weeks.”
Choki and I drove Dad and Karma to Phuentsholing and returned home the same day. After five days, Karma
returned to Thimphu.
I often asked Phub Dorji about Dad and he said Dad wanted to come to Thimphu. A month later, Phub Dorji
phoned me again.
“Dad wants to come to Thimphu,” he said. “What should I do?”
“I’ll pick him in the summer vacation.”
In the first week of June, Phub Dorji phoned me. “Dad is in the hospital,” he said.
“What?” I blurted. “What happened? What does the doctor say?”
“He can’t move his body.”
“Okay. I’ll send Karma.”
Right away, I sent Karma to Phuentsholing. At 2:00 am, he said he had arrived at the hospital. “Dad is half
paralyzed. They are referring him to Thimphu.”
My heart thumped. “What? What could be the disease? What time are they sending?”
“I think it’s a stroke. Maybe in the afternoon.”
“Okay, keep phoning me on the way.”
At 3:00 pm, Karma said they had arrived at Taktikothi and Dad was losing consciousness.
An ache started deep inside my stomach. I stared through the window, trying to figure out the actual situation. I
couldn’t help myself brood inside.
At 4:00 pm, Choki and I waited at the emergency ward. The ambulance arrived, flashing its beacon light half an
hour later. My heart thumped harder. When the ambulanceman opened the hatchback, I peeped in. Dad squirmed.
A spasm of pain crossed his face as he tried to open his half-shut eyes. I shook my head, not wanting to believe his
fate. Tears replenished my eyes.
“Dad, open your eyes,” I said.
He grimaced as he tried to open his eyes. “Who?”
“Ata Dorji, Dad,” I said, stroking his gray hair. “Can you see me?”
He nodded and grimaced.
A young bespectacled doctor examined him and said, “Looks like a stroke to me. We’ll conduct an MRI scan.”
Two hours later, we took him to the MRI room, upstairs. The test took over twenty minutes. The technician said
he would send the report to our doctor. Back in the emergency ward, we waited for the report.
I heaved a deep sigh, holding Dad’s hand. “Say it’s not a stroke, please,” I said to myself.
The doctor slogged to us, slumping his shoulder and said in a sad-toned voice, “It’s a stroke. There are two types
of stroke—Ischemic Stroke and Hemorrhagic Stroke. The former one is sometimes treatable. And the latter one is
fatal.”
“Which stroke is he suffering from?”
“Both.”
My eyes welled up with tears.
“Be strong, Au,” said the young doctor. “If nothing happens in twelve days, he might recover.”
During the hardest moment, my heart wrenched to say, “We are prepared for that, doctor.”
“Don’t lose hope, please. Some patients recover.”
After he left, I pecked Dad on his frail hands and sobbed like a child.
The next evening, a ward boy shifted Dad to Medical Ward. Doctors and nurses did everything possible to save
him. Dad’s condition deteriorated. On the third day, he lost all his consciousness. Nurses said his vital organs were
failing. But schoolwork wouldn’t leave me. I had loads of homework to complete. That stressed me out.
“Karma, I am going home to complete my CA. The mid-year exams are near,” I said. “I will come on the first
morning. You must check on Dad, from time to time. And report to the on-duty doctor if something worse happens
to him.”
“I would do,” he said. “My friend would come tonight.”
I stroked Dad’s gray hair and whispered, “I will come tomorrow, Dad. Bye.”
On the morning of June 16, 2018, I was completing the Continuous Assessment when my phone beeped. My
heart pulsated seeing Karma’s number blink on the screen. “What’s the matter, Karma?”
“Hurry,” he said. “Dad is breathing his last.”
“What?” I flung the pen and books onto the floor. “Hurry!” I picked up the car key from the table. “Dad’s—”

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