Page 92 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

We followed her to the inner room. There, she placed the baby in the incubator and took his temperature. “I’ll
call the doctor. Meanwhile, register the baby at the triage, please.”
After the registration, I returned to the ward. “Where is the mother, nurse?”
“In the next ward,” she said.
I went to see her. She was wincing in the bed. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Where is the baby?”
“He is in the incubator,” I said, spreading the blanket over her. “The pediatrician is coming.”
A young female pediatrician arrived half an hour later. “Your baby?” she said.
“Yes, doctor.”
She checked the heartbeat. “The baby is serious, okay?”
I shook my head. “How serious, doctor?” I asked.
“Very serious.” She wrote on the prescription. “Take him for an X-ray, okay?”
I nodded in apprehension. A ward boy came with a file tucked under his arm. “Let’s take the baby for an X-ray.”
Just five days old, who couldn’t even hold his neck up, cried as we held him straight against the freezing X-ray
plate. My heart wrenched.
“Done,” said the radiographer. “Hurry, wrap the baby in a blanket.”
His little limbs shivered. I cradled him in my arms and followed the ward boy back to the pediatric ward.
Minutes later, Choki shuffled in me and leaned on my shoulder. “How’s my baby?”
“He is doing fine. You may lie down.”
“How could I?” she said, tears glimmering. “What did the doctor say?”
“She said he was fine. Don’t worry.”
“No need.” She sat on the cement floor. “I want to sit with you.”
“Don’t sit on the cement.” I pulled her up. “It’s freezing.” I spread her shawl and helped her lie down on it.
The pediatric ward was congested. Two young mothers were fast asleep, facing each other, and two young men
were lying on the mattress on the cement. They got up, seeing us shuffling around.
“Oh, sorry for waking you up,” I said.
The tall guy with curly hair rubbed his eyes and said, “Never mind. Where’d you come from?”
“Samdrup Jongkhar Hospital,” I said.
“What happened to your baby?”
“Distended abdomen.”
He clucked his tongue. “My goodness.”
“Go back to sleep, please,” I whispered. “Everything is done now.”
Choki shivered and snuggled up beside me. So, I brought a blanket from her bed and wrapped her in it. At 2:30
am, our baby cried, so I rocked him until he went back to sleep.
The next morning, the two mothers were feeding their babies on the laps. The other two men—whom I
supposed to be their husbands—were gone.
I rubbed my eyes and said, “Kuzu zangpo, Aunty.”
They nodded and smiled at me.
“Where’d your husband go?”
The woman in blue tego said, “They went to get breakfast.”
The two men returned with tea and bread.
“Breakfast, sir?” said the guy with curly hair.
“Thanks,” I said. “We’re not hungry. I am Dorji. And you’re?”
“I am Taupo. What do you do?”
“I am a teacher at Kerong Community Primary School.
“Where is Kerong?”
“Nganglam.” I turned to the thin guy. “And your name, please?”
“Naku.”
“What happened to your babies?”
“There is a hole in his heart,” said Naku.
“My baby was prematurely born,” said Taupo.
I clucked my tongue.
At eight past fifteen, the pediatrician arrived.
“Can you explain her delivery?” she asked.
I stood. “You mean—?”
“How long did she take to deliver the baby?”
“She prolonged her delivery. And crossed her due date.”

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