Miracle in the ward(A short story)

(An atheist medic experiences the supernatural...questions her beliefs)

"Dr Tina please we need your help in the hospital right now!” the voice on the other end screamed.
It was Dr Lyon's, my fellow resident doctor in the hospital. I was "on-call" the previous night and had just returned home for a quick nap before zooming off again. It was a minute past six .Grabbing my car keys, I reached for my stethoscope, cast a glance at my 3 year old son fast asleep on the bed beside his father. He had returned from a business conference the night before and was as tired as I was.
"Robert, I’m on call. The hospital just called and I have to go. Take care of Michael."
"Okay, I will", I heard him say sleepily.
I was already in the bathroom brushing. A quick glance at my watch again, the minute hand had shifted to "3"- 15 minutes past six. I knew I had no time to eat. Good thing I had showered before letting myself slip into dreamland so I made for the door.

"What's happening?" I asked, walking as fast as I could towards the accidents and emergency (A&E) ward of the hospital, the door was open.
"Hypovolemic shock due to excessive hemorrhage" That was Dr Nelson - a new house officer recently posted to the A&E ward of the hospital.
"On- head collision with a moving trailer. They were 13 of them. Others have stopped bleeding and have been stabilized but him, he wouldn't stop bleeding. It's a case of haemophilia". (Haemophilia is an inherited blood disease in which there is slow or complete absence of blood clotting). For the first time since I arrived the hospital, I stopped to look at him. There was a cold gloom in his eyes. It wasn't pity, it was terror!
"Dr Nelson, did you say haemophilia?"
"Yes Dr Tina", he heaved. "He's bleeding out!"
I felt a pang of déjà vu sweep over me. I'd once lost a patient due to haemorrhage-induced hypovolemic shock.
"I can't lose him, not today!" I muttered under my breath.

Dr Lyon was doing a good job keeping the blood flow at bay but you'll always know how cases will end. Something in your intuition. Scientists call it "the sixth sense." One hour slid past and the blood was still pumping out. He had severed a major artery and was truly bleeding to death. Then I felt his body stiffen and I knew he was gone. Reaching for his right hand, I felt for his radial artery pulsation, it wasn't there. I did same for the other hand and felt nothing beating against my fingers. Reaching for his neck, just below the mandible, I felt for his carotid artery pulsation, it was gone. Dr Lyon looked at me and nodded. Together we pulled the white sheet over him.

"Time of death-7:20 am" I announced, looking up for the first since I entered the ward.
The sun had started rising. The day had begun. This was the 2nd patient in all my years of medical practice I
i had lost due to severe bleeding and hard as I tried, I could feel the emotions get to me. It was unusual for a job you are trained not to feel emotions. With the team of medical students and house officers standing by and observing the ongoing events, I made for the door in a bit of a hurry to put off the bloodstained gloves.

Then I felt a tug on the bloodstained ward coat I had on. It was a little boy, aged 11 or 12. He was crying and I wondered how he got there but I guessed I must have forgotten to close the door in my hurry and everyone was too busy to notice a small boy enter the ward. (Children are not allowed into the A&E ward).
"Doctor, is my daddy dead?" a small voice asked, it was the boy's.
I couldn’t answer, besides medical ethics forbade me from breaking such news to a boy that age, he was decades away from 18 . So I stooped down, leveling my head with his, careful not to touch him.

"what’s your name", I asked as softly as I could.
“Robert” he replied.
His reply tickled me, Robert is my husband's name.

By this time, the medical students and doctors that stood by had started dispersing into different directions, though they did not leave the ward. They were busy moving up and down with files and folders. I thought for a moment about telling the boy that his father is dead. After all the boy probably knew. So I began, “i'm so sorry I have to tell you this Robert, but we lost your daddy. We tried our best, but he lost too much blood and when people lose so much blood, they die."

“where is your mother Robert” I asked tenderly as I could,
A teardrop fell on my left hand, it wasn’t mine though.
“She’s outside…” a tearful voice replied.
“Let’s go see her. I said straightening up.
Inside of me, I was determined to console this family the best way I could.
I had reached the door when I noticed I was alone.
“Robert?” I called, turning quickly to look behind me.
He was still standing there, his face wet with tears. Next time, this should not happen again, why on earth is a boy of eleven or twelve in the Accident and Emergency unit of a hospital, I thought.
“Robert…” I was about telling him to follow me out of the ward when suddenly, he began tugging at my ward coat…
“But doctor, you can help him. I want my daddy back, please. Tomorrow is my birthday and he had promised to take me to the zoo.”
I knew I had to do more than talking to get him out of the ward, so I reached for his left hand.
“I’m not going anywhere until my daddy opens his eyes” he screamed.
I wanted to feel angry, but I thought “this boy is barely eight or nine, why should I get angry?."

So I thought of a way to get him out of the ward, “Okay Robert, what do you think I can do to bring your daddy back?”
That question was as fake as a golden coat on a cheap wrist watch, I just had to get him out. The minute arm of my watch had shifted to ‘5’ – 7:25 a.m. it was five minutes since I pulled the sheets over that man and this boy was telling me to do something to bring him back. Tell me about magic!
“Have you asked JESUS to help you Doctor? My Sunday school teacher told us last Sunday that Jesus brought the dead back to life. Have you asked Him? Ask Him, ask Him please… I want my daddy back”
While saying this, his hands were on my coat, tugging at me. I had Never found myself in such dilemma. Why would this boy tell me to ask Jesus for help? Was it that simple? If it were, then we wouldn’t be signing death certificates everynow and then. We’d just ask this ‘Jesus’ and he will save the day.

I knew that boy wouldn't let me go until I did something that looked like a miracle. But inside me, I knew the man was dead and that there was no way he could come back to life. But …something about the boy crying. Something about his faith in Jesus. Something about his innocence. I'd been an atheist up until that moment. Medicine had taught me too much to believe in the existence of a supernatural being not to mention a being who could bring the dead back to life. My mind travelled through the dying process, from cell death, to tissue hypoxia, to ischemia to necrosis. The electrical activity of the heart stops abruptly, the lungs gets clogged with carbon (IV) oxide, brain death follows and soon, death. The process of death was too complex to be reversed; the best science has offered is Cryogenics. So in a way to get the boy out of the ward, I walked back to the body lying motionless on the stretcher, laid my hands on it and began the show. I called it a ‘show’ because it was to get the boy see that I have done my best in bringing his daddy back. Even going as far as telling his ‘Jesus’. In fact I had it in mind to tell him ‘See Jesus won’t help Robert’.

I was born an atheist and had spent my whole life campaigning against these ‘Jesus’ fanatics. This was an opportunity to make ridicule of him. With my hands still on the lifeless, cold body, I began,
"Jesus, I don't know why I'm doing this because I don't know you and I guess you don't know me too but this little boy wants his daddy back and says if I ask you, you'll bring him back so please send his dear daddy back to him. If you can…"

I would have continued if I didn’t feel the cold body beneath my palms begin to warm. The warmth spread through his whole body in seconds. I moved my hand from the body and took two steps backward. Then he sneezed violently and as I watched, his eyelids flew open and the ward exploded. I stood there in shock, like my legs were rooted to the ground. Speechless and shaken, I managed to perform a physical examination on my resurrected patient. By this time, the ward was a market, Doctors, patients, relatives, nurses, clearers and passers by all trooped into the ward to have a glimpse of the ongoing events. With shaking fingers, I tried to set up an IV line but couldn’t do so. Dr Lyon came to my rescue, while I made for the door.

Walking towards the door, i forced my brain not to believe what it just witnessed. By my knowledge of medical sciences I knew he was dead. There was no scientific explanation for it, it was a miracle. For the first time in my 30 years of life, I saw my vain pride; I saw my emptiness and nakedness. I had said that prayer with the thought of shaming the boy’s beliefs, but here was I battling with myself.

The very beliefs I built my life around and lived for were shattered. I had to reconsider my stand, my beliefs. I walked out of the ward, dazed. The event of the last few minutes had taken its toll on me. Somewhere in my subconscious, I could feel a thought tug at the door of my mind, when I finally let it in, it was the mysteriousness of the man called "JESUS."

                               By Idongesit Imuk...October,2016 for THE MANIFESTATION bulletin      (copied)