Bearing His Last Name To Survive
The hustling and buzzing sound of the ER is one that nobody wishes for, the cries of the injured, some unable to explain the pain they feel. Their enraged relatives, who probably just arrived, each fighting for their loved ones to be attended to immediately. The confusion of the bereaved who must accept that their loved one is no more, and the silent prayers from us, the health workers, as we approach each casualty hoping to meet them alive and not a cold, stiff body.
The storm ended this morning, but ever since it stopped, there has been another kind of storm inside the hospital, and none of us has gotten a minute to even sip water. We dived into work immediately after we arrived. The night shift was the lucky group this time.
We have been running around the A&E after our attending since morning, and finally, we are close to clearing the crowd. The cleaners have slowly started wiping away the tears, torn flesh, and blood that covered the floor.
My phone vibrates violently in my pocket, the ringtone blaring through the now calm hall, making my colleagues wince. I quickly press the button to silence it. This isn’t the first time it has rung. I really thought I turned off the notifications the last time it did.
“Rita, do I need to seize your phone for a week before you do what is right?” my attending sighs in frustration.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I apologize quickly and immediately turn off the notifications.
“Even the President doesn’t receive calls this frequently. Call the OR and see if there’s any available space now,” he orders, and we continue examining the last patient.
“His stats are stable for now, but I can’t guarantee that in the next few minutes, so we have to hurry,” my attending announces. The patient lying on the bed with a torn stomach is an old man who lives alone. That explains why he only arrived now despite his critical condition. The storm tore a branch off his almond tree, throwing it into his room and ripping open his abdomen while he was asleep.
His neighbors brought him in a few minutes ago, and I must say, he is among the lucky few who made it here. His entire intestine is outside his abdomen, and somehow, he has managed to survive until now.
“Rita, did you page surgery? Is there any free OR now? This man needs surgery immediately or we will lose him,” he asks, turning to me.
“Yes, I did. I was informed a surgery was completed a few minutes ago, but another patient is in line next,” I reply.
“What’s the case?”
“Broken leg and lacerations.”
“That can wait a few more minutes, but this man can't. Wheel him to the OR now. James, help her,” he instructs firmly.
James and I leave immediately, pushing the stretcher toward the elevator. We have been running up and down the elevator more than ten times today, and as we deliver the patient to the OR, I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief that the major rush is finally over. I can't wait to go home and pass out on my bed.
After returning to the call room, I join the others, wash up, and collapse onto one of the beds. My phone lights up just as I lie down, making me sigh in frustration.
“You might want to take that, Rita. Whoever keeps calling nonstop must have a strong reason,” James says from the top bunk.
“I know who it is, and I’m sure he doesn’t have a valid reason,” I mutter, sitting up to check the message. It’s from Stanley, my youngest sibling. He must be having another huge fight with Loveth.
Just as I suspected, my guess is right. Stanley fought with Loveth, and she took away his game console. It’s never peaceful between those two, and every time, I end up being dragged in as the judge.
Loveth is my younger sister, four years older than Stanley. Stanley is 17 but often forgets that. He fights with her like they are age mates.
I live with my two siblings. After our mom died early last year, I became both parents to them. It may seem like too much for a 24-year-old who just graduated medical school and is only doing her internship, but we don’t have a better choice. Our father died five years ago when I was a freshman, and just a few weeks before my graduation, our mom died too. None of my parents lived to see one of our biggest family dreams come true, producing a doctor.
After graduation, I worked part-time in a coffee shop until I got an internship placement at the biggest hospital in the country as a surgical intern. Words can’t describe my happiness. At least I could earn enough to take care of my siblings while advancing my career. Loveth is in her final year of college studying architecture, and Stanley is in senior high school. They both need support to finish their education. We may not afford everything, but at least they’ll finish school.
After reading Stanley’s long message of complaints, I dial Loveth’s number.
“Hi, sis…” she answers softly.
“Just give him back his game! Is it possible to have a day without your childish fights?” I burst out angrily.
“Whoa, whoa, sis, calm down,” she replies. “You didn’t even ask what he did. He’s not getting it back today, maybe tomorrow, but not today. I have to go to my part-time shift now, so see you in the evening. Bye.”
She hangs up before I can say anything else, leaving me boiling with anger and too tired to argue. Loveth took over my job at the coffee shop after I resigned, and she helps provide for the house. Taking up responsibilities they say makes one mature faster but it's not same with her, she never changes and I wonder when she would finally grow up
I finally turn off my phone and lie back down to get a quick rest before the next shift arrives.
“Siblings, they are always like that,” James laughs lightly.
“I’m really tired of these two. They never care about my mental health. It's only Clifford, my boyfriend, who can handle them. Honestly, without him, I might have run away and left the two of them behind,” I say, rubbing my forehead.
“It’s the same with mine too, especially during those rebellious teenage years…” James replies, our conversation is cut short by a knock on the door.
The next second the door flew open to reveal one of our chief surgeons, Mr Benson. He is the youngest chief surgeon all over the country, though it is known that the hospital belongs to his family he still works hard and dedicate most of his life to work.
Nurses and other female workers dies over him and all crushes over him. Mr Benson is a almost like the most desired bachelor in the whole country after the Ezugwu family but he has a flaw. He is a womanizer and that is why I have never looked at him twice despite every female worker here glowing over him, not like he would look my way either though.
Rumors have it that he has slept with almost all the female doctors in the hospital but the funny part is that more women are still dying over him.
"James, come with me for a minute," he called out, leaving even before we could greet him. He looked a bit off today, he was not his usual self. James ran after him. I don’t know what bond he has with James, but I have seen him call James a few times, which leaves me wondering how they are related. Sometimes I wonder if James’ family is some secret billionaire family, because that’s the only possible way they could know each other.
"Rita, hey, please wake up," James’s voice shook me awake. I had just slipped into sleep not long ago.
"Is it time for changeover?" I asked, sitting up.
"Yes, but please, I need your help," he said anxiously. "Mr. Benson just gave me a task now, but I have a date in an hour. Please, I can’t miss this date, she’s my crush and only agreed after two years of pursuing her."
"James, please, whatever it is, I’m not interested. I’m so tired and can’t wait to get to my house," I sighed, and started packing my handbag to go.
"Money is involved in this, half a million. Please, Rita, help me," he blurted out.
I froze at the mention of money, wondering that much, for what task exactly?
"What’s the task?" I asked cautiously.
"It’s home treatment," he explained quickly. "Due to the storm, a man is very injured and needs treatment."
"What is stopping them from bringing him to the hospital?" I pressed.
"It’s a complicated case," he whispered in a low voice. "He’s a criminal, and they can’t risk him being exposed."
"That’s illegal, to harbour a criminal and you know that," I snapped.
"Rita, that’s not our concern," he pleaded. "Our concern is to save a life, remember? Please, help me just this once."
"It’s fine," I said reluctantly. "So how do I get there?"
"His family is already outside waiting," he replied quickly. "Just tell them you are James."
We packed our bags, handed over to Genevieve and Lucas, the interns for the next shift and left.
At the door, I met some dangerous-looking men. There were three of them, and they introduced themselves as the people sent to pick me up.
"Is James not like a man’s name?" one of them asked suspiciously, making my breath catch in my throat.
"James is my surname. Everyone calls me by that," I hurriedly explained, trying my best not to stutter. I do that a lot when lying, and if I had done that now, they would probably know I was lying.
They guided me to a car and drove off. The drive was long, awkward, and scary. We drove for almost two hours, and at some points, there were no houses in sight, we were surrounded by trees and forests.
"Sir, it looks like your house is far," I said shakily, my worries growing. I had to make sure I wasn’t getting kidnapped.
None of them spoke, making my worries spike. My heart drummed heavily inside my chest as we drove into a tall gate that suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the thick forest.
"Let me have your phone," one of them ordered sharply the moment the car came to a stop.
