fiction | Novelist

Mrs. Pearson had finished her shower and had got into her pyjamas when Angela got back home.

“Have you heard from Mark?” Her mother was direct. Angela had been hoping that it would be a brief check on her mother and a quick good night kiss. Her heart quickened as her brain struggled to find the right answer. In the end, she decided to be truthful. That was how she had brought her up. To tell the truth without mincing words.

“I phoned him just before coming here.”

“And?”

“Didn’t talk much. Only told him that I’m having my operation in the morning.”

“And what did he think?”

“Don’t know.” Angela scratched her head and stared into the blank. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“I’m sure he’s scared.” Her mother tried to make her understand.

“But he’s not acting like a man. Not a brave one anyway.” She brushed her hair backwards with her hand. “You see, Mama, when I got married to Mark I thought I got married to a real man. One with a heart big enough to harbour all my troubles and heavy shoulders to carry my burden. But sadly, all I’ve got now is a wimpish lamb.”

“Your husband loves you…”

“How can you say that after what he’s done?”

Her mother smiled and shook her head. “I know he loves you and I can assure you that he’s probably somewhere out there among his mates drinking his life out.”
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“If he loved me he wouldn’t do that. You don’t hurt the person that you love,” she retorted.

“Sometimes your treasured possession has a stain but you still treasure it anyway. That’s exactly what love is. It is unconditional.”

“That’s my point. If he loved me it should be unconditional. That’s the point I am making. He doesn’t love the children either.”

“Don’t say things like that. Of course he loves you all. Think of the times that you have shared together. If you count the number of breeze and storms in your relationship as a family, it would surprise you how much love you have for one another.”

“Mama, I can’t believe that you’re supporting Mark’s reckless behaviour.”

“I am not supporting the way he has acted. Of course not.” She put her arm over her daughter’s shoulder. “But darling you are not living in the real world. Everything cannot be perfect. And don’t expect people to reason or behave in your own way. Sometimes someone that we love can disappoint us. Call them stupid, insensitive, lazy, or whatever. You see, people are different, but love is the same.”

Angela’s heart started to melt as she listened to her mother. She could now see the point her mother was making and she didn’t want to argue anymore. She lay down beside her mother and listened to her like a baby listening to her mother read a bedside storybook. She knew that her mother was always objective in her appraisal of things and she was always practical. Angela always counted herself lucky for having a mother like her.

“I don’t want you to be too disturbed. You see, it may look to you like he doesn’t care. I am sure he does. And he loves you. But he is a man. That’s the problem.”

“I don’t understand that, Ma’am.” Angela’s eyes opened like an oyster.

Her mother cleared her throat. “You see, men are not as tough as they look. You go to the labour room and look at the faces of those husbands when their wives are having babies. If God was to change his mind and make men have babies, the midwives would have no jobs.” Both women laughed hysterically. “That, my dear, is what men are. Wimps.” She mopped the tears from the corner of Angela’s eyes.

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Another Day in Hell

I am one of those people who always look up to each day afresh. I never allowed events of previous days to bog me down. I believe that every day is pregnant with its own events and you can never tell what the day would deliver. For the first time in my life, I woke up feeling apprehensive about today. I had hardly had any sleep in the night but that was not the reason I felt the way I felt. Being up all night when on call was nothing new to me. It was part of surgical training. I was not grumbling about that.

I woke up regretting bringing my issue of the Gut to the theatre yesterday. If I hadn’t brought this journal Dr Braver probably would not have read about the paper on day-case cholecystectomies. And he would not have discharged the patients that he discharged yesterday evening.

Although I wasn’t officially on call I was involved in sorting out the patients that were readmitted. Three of the patients were readmitted. The registrar on call called me as he was unable to contact Dr Braver. He discussed all the patients. I too tried to contact Dr Braver and left several messages on his answerphone.

The old man with oesophageal perforation was not doing well in the high dependency unit. Like the other patients, I tried unsuccessfully to contact Dr Braver about this patient whose condition had deteriorated. I almost gave up trying to contact him after leaving numerous messages. The time was about two in the night when I got a call from the theatre that Dr Braver wanted me immediately. I almost told the caller that I was not on call, but on second thought, I didn’t as no doubt, Dr Braver knew that I was not on call.

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“Hello Dr Braver,” I said, after knocking at the opened door.

“I am opening up our friend,” he said, without looking at me.

I wasn’t sure who he was referring to as “our friend.” In reality, there were many patients on the ward that he could be referring to. All of them with one complication or another. The old man with perforated oesophagus in the high dependency unit. The elderly patient with perforated colon during colonoscopy; the one that Dr Bigfellow had helped with corrective surgery. The three patients who had been readmitted following discharge for statistical reasons after cholecystectomy. The young lady who had ended up with a colostomy following an exploratory laparotomy. The fourteen-year old boy who had suffered damaged bowel from laparoscopic appendicectomy. The middle aged woman who had had her womb removed when undergoing bowel resection. And the man who suffered clipping of his iliac vein when undergoing laparoscopic hernia repair. So, talking about “opening up our friend” could be any one of these or those that had not been mentioned. I dared not ask which patient he was referring to. I simply nodded and went to change into my theatre gown.

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