Chapter 6

MIRA

An unsettling feeling nagged my insides as my brain processed what to do.

No. A patient was not going to die under my care. It had never happened before, and it most definitely would not start now.

Quickly, I hurried my steps in search of any security personnel. They usually patrolled the corridors so I wondered why they were scarce now that they were needed.

Finally, I found a security man. He was just exiting the staff restroom and wiped his almost dried hands on his green uniform.

“This is an emergency.” I said once and he followed me instantly.

“What is the matter?” He asked as we hastened to Ward 11.

“Jammed door at Ward eleven. Patient is highly suicidal,” I summarised.

As we turned a corner, I bumped into Dr. Eric whose nose was buried behind a file he held to his face. The papers made a confetti as they scattered all around us.

But I did not stop to check, did not stop to make amends of what I did. There was no time.

I simply dragged the security man by the arm to our destination.

“It is jammed,” he said after trying to push the door open.

“Exactly what I said before.” I griped.

“Stand back,” he said.

Once I had obeyed, he slammed into the door with his shoulder. I winced at the impact, wondering how he did not feel any pain since this door was made from sturdy wood.

Some people had already stopped to watch the burly man continue his assault on the entrance.

The man soon stopped, felt the door and then talked into his walkie talkie, asking for backup. Soon three other uniformed men arrived and helped him .

Finally, the door gave in and opened but what our eyes meet made my blood run cold.

James laid sprawled on his bed soaked in his own blood.

Blood had gushed out his gashed neck and wrists like an fountain. From the way the blood had dried on the bedsheets, I could tell he had done the deed like two hours ago.

I did not stand there wondering how he had acquired the tool to perpetrate this mess. Or where he had got the courage to slice his own body. I swung into action immediately.

James would not die. Not today. And definitely not under my watch.

“Some one get me Dr. Einstein and hook him up for an immediate surgery.” My voice rang out clear, as I struggled to remain calm.

I checked his vitals. His pulse was barely existent and his heart rate had reduced drastically.

As the brown haired man was wheeled out to the operating theater, I saw the weapon he had used.

The surgical blade still on the floor, covered in James’s blood. How did he get ahold of this? I let myself wonder.

Something in me broke then. Whatever James was struggling with was not ordinary for him to want to take his life this much. He needed urgent help and I was going to give it to him.

But he had to survive this first.

Anyone would think it was my close relative being operated on if they saw how I paced the length of the corridor just outside the operating theater department. It had been an hour and thirty minutes now.

Eric sat in the lounge, glancing my way at intervals. He seemed calm, like this was not anything new. But the worry was still evident in his eyes.

A few more minutes had gone by before I went to sit by Eric in the lounge.

“Hey,” I breathed and tucked my palms between my legs.

“Hey,” he offered a weak smile.

We shared the silence, our different thoughts building a thin wall between us. I just needed to understand why he wanted to kill himself that much. And why no one waited on him. I had just realized it was only me and Eric who sat in the lounge.

Usually when a patient was being operated on, this lounge would be crowded with family members and friends. And one would think that someone as rich and well to do as James Carter would have everyone, including the high and mighty, flood this area.

“Is he always like this?” I whispered.

The doctor nodded. “Even worse.”

My mind rummaged on graphical representation of what ‘worse’ could be. It came up with nothing. This was the height of it for me.

“How long have you worked for him?” I inquired.

“Since he was twenty two,” was Eric’s reply.

I gasped, my brain quickly doing the maths. “For five years?” When he nodded, I asked again. “And you have not been able to cure him?”

Eric chuckled sadly, giving me a look that said ‘I forgive your ignorance.’ “His condition is not like every other condition that can just be cured, Mira. Suicide is no joke.”

“Can he not be helped?” I questioned softly.

His face donned a distressed expression. “I wish it was that easy. James does not want to be helped either.”

I sighed heavily, seeing how bleak the situation was from Eric’s perspective. It must have been really hard for him too.

“No one came for him,” I voiced out my earlier realization.

Eric shrugged. “I guess when you have cried wolf long enough, people would stop coming to your aid.”

I snapped him a glare. “That is an insensitive to say about your patient, Dr. Eric Reeves.” I ground out.

He raised his palm in surrender. “Chill. I just quoted his father. That is what the old man says. And yes, I feel like punching him in the face too when he utters the nonsense.”

I diverted my anger to the old man I had never seen. Was he in any way the cause of James’s unhappiness with life?

How could a father say something cruel about his own son? Pa would never have thought about something like that, not to talk of even saying it out.

I would rather his father never showed himself in this hospital. I never lacked things to say.

Kathy came by just then, sitting in the empty space beside me and enclosing my palms in hers. “Nothing yet?” She asked.

Casting a long look at the closed double doors, I shook my head in the negative.

She sighed heavily. “It will be alright.”

I nodded. “Thank you for covering for me.”

I had begged Kathy to help me with my duties while I sat in the lounge with Eric. Unlike me, Eric worked for James, so his sole job was James at the hospital. It was like the Carters had bought the young doctor.

“It is no problem, my friend.” Kathy assured me.

The doors burst open and the three of us jumped on our feet expectantly. The assisting doctors filed out the theater and James was wheeled back to his ward. Dr. Einstein walked out last.

“How is he?” Eric asked.

“Thankfully, he had not slashed his carotid artery or jugular vein. We were able to stitch him up and stop the bleeding. He is about to undergo transfusion as we speak. He would recuperate fine.”

Everyone gave a collective sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Einstein,” Eric reached out for a handshake which Dr. Einstein obliged to delightfully.

Giving me a stern look, the old doctor gruffed out. “Nurse Mira. Meet me in my office now. We need to talk.”