Fifteen minutes.

It’s a madhouse in there. There’s pain to relieve, needs to attend to, demands to meet. Sometimes, things get messy. Often, there is blood. Always, there is some hurt involved. Be it a road traffic accident, chest pain, assault… there is always some drama, some Story to why they are there in the first place.

The Emergency Department is a madhouse.

And that’s where I’ve been posted to for the first two months of this year. The hours are slightly shorter (about 70 compared to 100 hours per week), and there aren’t any more of those dreadful 30-hour calls, but there are intense hours of shiftwork, and few nights available to socialize with friends and family who have more of a semblance of normal working hours.

Even before you came, I mentioned that being a part of my life would be hard. Hard for you, hard for us. But you were, still are, determined to make things work- which is what resulted in you appearing at 6am in the morning at my doorstep today for an early morning run before work because you know I’d end my afternoon shift late at night, again.

I had a terrible dream last night. I dreamt that I was together with someone from my secondary school days, whom I realized that I didn’t love. I then broke the relationship off to be with someone I knew from my university days, which then invited a lot of finger-wagging from my mentors. Standing back, I realized I loved neither of them. With that dreadful feeling amplified a thousand times in the mistiness of my dream, I awoke in shock, and then was suddenly relieved that I was in a relationship with you, someone who loved me, and not anyone else.

But perhaps, even more tragic than not knowing love, is losing the love you once had for each other.

I don’t think I could forget what happened yesterday. As soon as I saw the diagnosis of the patient in the blue file and the young age of 30 on the printout, I knew, that a tragic accident must have happened.

30-year old male. Road traffic accident. Craniectomy done (which is a viscious operation that excises huge parts of the brain). PEG created. (PEG, it’s an opening through the skin in one’s tummy made into the gut so as to feed food directly through the intestines instead of feeding through one’s mouth.)

There he was lying, with a domestic helper and wife by his bedside, uncommunicative and drooling slightly, with a deformed half-hemispheric skull, with both hands shrunken up with eyes closed. Smelling slightly of perspiration, the childish prints on his light blue pajamas belied the horrors of his tragedy which happened 2 years ago.

“Is this his usual?” I asked, as I needed to establish his baseline.

“Yes,” said his wife, a little lady clad in pink. She had come to seek help with regards to the leaking hole in his tummy. Days ago, she missed her clinic appointment and now wanted immediate attention because she was worried about his condition. After a preliminary examination by myself, a senior attended to her, reassured her that her husband’s condition was stable, that an early appointment to the specialists would be made, and that her husband could be sent home.

Suddenly, the little lady wasn’t so little anymore. Anger, frustration and bitterness rose to the surface as she berated the medical staff in explosive rage. It was obvious she was more frustrated with her situation than anything else, as her first words were, “You don’t understand. I want my problem fixed now! I have two small children to feed. Look at my husband. Look at me. You don’t understand!”

It’s true. We didn’t. How could we possibly understand the depths of pain she has gone through? But there was nothing we could do because her problem needed specialist attention and was, medically speaking, non-urgent.

Last night I went home, pensive. Thinking about what had happened. Thinking about how some of us throw away relationships because of neglect, impatience and the daily stresses of life, while some of us have, through unwanted circumstances in life, had those relationships taken away from us. Which would we rather? And yet, why do we behave as if our families, friendships and marriages are disposable and replaceable?

So I didn’t stop you from coming in the wee hours of the morning today to say hello. I never forbid you from coming to pick me up from work even though I know it costs extra time, effort and money, and even though it may be at an odd hour because of my work schedule, even though if it just means holding hands in a crowded train and saying goodbye after that. I didn’t reject your spending an entire day at a photoshoot with me (done for free for us by a friend) and spending money on flowers for me last Saturday.

Because to be honest, I don’t know how much time we have together. God snatched your life away from the hands of Cancer when you were ten, and that is reminder enough for me on the fragility and transience of life.

So I treasure the precious quick fifteen-minute breakfast and prayer before work today after our run, because, more tragic than not having someone to love, is having someone and not cherishing that love.

 

 “A new command I give you: Love one another.

As I have loved you, so you must love one another.

³⁵ By this everyone will know that you are my disciples,

if you love one another.”

– John 13:34-35