It was a dark night. The gathering clouds had made sure of that. It seemed that the earth, after a few million years of invariant attitude, decided it was time for a change and had suddenly veered off its axis.
Unseasonal lightning lashed the night sky and left behind a purplish hue, contrasting sharply, beautifully, with the amber lighted domes of the hospital building, a sight that he'd have appreciated on another day.
The parched earth rushed up into the midnight air to meet the falling raindrops, its sweet smell obliterating the familiar Musi stench. Thousands around him forgot the vagaries of everyday life as they took a deep breath that invigorated their beings.
The first few drops of rain had already rolled down his cheeks. "i cannot cry now. There is still hope", he admonished himself, as the rain gods burst asunder, angry at his ignorance and his senses flooded back painfully. He was making his back from the dining area to the wards. He only went so he could clear his head, to gather the perspective he was searching for. He'd found that the cold chapattis and lumpy dhal did not ease the guilt that made his stomach feel like a bottomless pit.
Her paralysed limbs and weakened heart still served a strong mind. And she was lucky. She had a son who loved her, in whose eyes her age and withered body only deserved more of his love. She complained incessantly, a sign of a strong will to live. He wanted her to complain again. "It wouldn't be irritating at all", he said to himself.
Just three hours ago, thirty six hours into his shift, he'd given her the wrong medication which rendered her unconscious. He knew he had recovered quickly, taken appropriate remedial measures, called the right people, taken responsibility. He'd taken her to the emergency wards himself, all in a rush of adrenalised automation, which had left him more drained than ever. He knew there would be consequences, but none worse than that of his own conscience.
As his senses rushed back, he found it, the perspective he had been looking for, as he knew that his own conscience would have to be held in abeyance and that she was more important than him. The obvious knowledge of what he needed to do calmed him. He took a deep breath and entered the building.
The night passed in an unreal daze, doctor and son tending her, hurting to be tended themselves, looking into each others eyes, mutely, only belief offering the solace that no words could. Their sleepy eyes searched for any sign of her recovery. His trained eyes saw the colour return to her finger tips, which he knew was a good sign, but his training also told him her weak heart could not stand this stress.
The night passed on, as all time must, ignoring all pleas and requests to hold still. And as morning dawned, almost as on cue, a small flicker went through her body, as if she was rousing from a fitful slumber. An hour later, she was hungry and complaining.
Her will to live had saved her. And him. He saw beyond his own texts into the beauty of the human mind, its strong will against all odds. He knew that there were some mistakes that can never be forgiven. He left to pack his belongings to go back home, sat down in the doctor's room and finally cried.
end
This happened a few months ago at Osmania. The doctor did mess up and the woman did live. I have interpreted those events through my own perspective.
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*applause, applause*
I've always believed the only way to enjoy anything - a movie, a song, a piece of writing - is to forget the corniness and let it touch you. I mean, truly ALLOW yourself to be touched.
Well done, mate.
Nicely done aloque. Some lovely imagery especially at the beginning of the entry. Great words and feeling. :)
hey guys..thx.
is this too far fetched to be my dimension, aran (btw, what are you still doing here?)
and mr.n (your actual name sounds too much like an IQ analyser) keep the comms coming. nothing keeps me going better.
I'll send you my edit later. ;)
ps. yes. kinda. I wouldn't call it far-fetched though.
(btw, I had to postpone it, which is GOOD)
ha ha! never thought of my nick that way. Actually intended to signify "brain-machine".
But Mr. N's good.. ;-)