Wrongfully Right

*beep** beep* my cell phone buzzed. While almost more than a half asleep I tried my best to open one of my eyes a little so that I might be able to see who the hell was texting me at this time of the night. I rolled over to me side cabinet and picked up me phone. It was from the hospital. I cursed a little because firstly it was 3 in the morning and secondly I had only been back from there for 2 hours. I unlocked my cell to see what the message was; it read “please reach the hospital ASAP, Emergency”. Our hospital had a weird policy of first texting a doctor and if he doesn’t reply within 5 minutes then they call. Jerks, I know right. Going on, I read the text and replied “K” as in OK, not trying to be hip or anything, I was just not ready to type two alphabets. I took hold of all my strength and got up from the bed, being a doctor has its advantages because you earn outrageous amounts of money if you work properly. I had an apartment at 25^th floor and had an awesome view and for the first time since I moved here, I saw the road empty, which was sad actually. I walked up to the bathroom, got changed and went straight to the parking. The way to hospital was about 15 minutes but as there was traffic, I hoped to reach there in 7-8 minutes. I had just been back and the car was still a little warm, I forgot to mention what I did when I was at the hospital earlier. I had a surgery, the kid feel from the third floor and had a part of his skull cracked, 3 ribs fractured and the most worrying, had a part of the fence inside his stomach. After an operation of more than 10 hours we were able to revive him, but it was sad to see a kid of age no more than 8 years in this condition. He will survive thought; even the scars will be operated, but not sure about the mental scars.

As I entered the hospital building I saw as much rush as it is in the day time, Weird thing about the hospitals that they are never empty. One of the saddest parts of modern life, no matter how much the government says about its health policy, their hospitals are never empty. As I entered the building nurse Jackie came running towards me, she was about the average height but was extremely cheerful for someone who worked at a hospital. She was the kind of a person you want as a co-worker, hot yet good at work. She looked kind of worried today. She came to me and said, “Doctor, Bhanu got shot today. He is your case”. Bhanu was well, as you may describe the godfather of the local mafia. He was accused of killing more than 1000 men, women and children. He never got arrested though. The things money can do in a modern age. Well he was my patient and because of the oath I took when I became a doctor, it is almost a big page of promises but it all comes down to this “I am a doctor, and I shall treat all” rest you can always search on the web.

As we went into the lift, thousand pictures of the people he killed, the women he raped, the children he made orphans came jumping into my head. A part of me wanted to let him die, but I took the oath and I meant every word I said; then, now I don’t even remember what I said. Still if there was someone who doesn’t deserve to live, it was him. While getting off the lift and walking towards the room, Jackie was telling me about the case and the problems attached to it. His room was easily recognizable; it had a hoard of people waiting outside of it. I guess more than 99 % people don’t even care about the patient; they are here just because the social protocol calls for it. As I entered the room I saw Bhanu laying on the bed unconscious, his heart was still beating, maybe with some irregularities but still the machine was going beep beep beep. I hated that sound. I checked his pulse and looked at his wound. It was still bleeding and he would die if not operated soon enough. I looked at Nurse Jackie and ordered her to get him ready to take him to the operation theatre, yet another term I don’t really understand, why does it has a word theatre attached to it. I was almost feeling dizzy when I excused myself and I went into the next room which was thankfully empty. I sat down and thought about the circumstances I was into. Just less than a half an hour before I was sleeping like a baby, and now I had to operate on the biggest gangster the city has ever seen? I think I had my blood pressure rising or may be falling, I don’t know. You must think what kind of a jerk doctor I was if I didn’t knew if my BP was rising or falling, but frankly, I didn’t care which way it went. I never wanted to be in this scenario.

Seeing I wasn’t back, Jackie came in the room and asked me what was wrong. Sweating like crazy I was not sure whether to tell her about it or not, I decided to go in the former way. I said, “Do you know the feeling when you are going into the operation theatre for the first time for your first surgery?”

“Yes” she replied skeptically.

“Do you know the feeling when after all your efforts the patient survives??”

“Yes” she said.

“Well, I am kind of confused” I said not trying to riddle it anymore.

“Confused in what??” she said, starting to get worried.

“How can you save a patient when letting him live for another second makes you sick in the gut??”

“Are you talking about Bhanu??”

“Yes, I mean yes I am a doctor, and yes this is a simple case and yes I have to treat him, but how can I when I know if he lives he is going to kill thousands more as he had killed before?”

“But doctor you will have to treat him. You took an oath?”

“Yes, but what is the use of that oath if it saves a monster??” I was confused, more confused as I could ever be.

She looked at my eyes. It was as if she had faith in me that I would choose the right option. A bead of sweat slowly rolled from the side of my forehead onto the frame of my spectacles, at the same time she looked at me, stared for a while and walked outside. I could never understand what she saw that made her leave. But she was right, I took an oath and I should be maintaining its honor. Just when I was about to rise from the chair that I was sitting on for the past few minutes when I no longer could stand, images of thousands of people who had been affected by him, and not at all in a good way came rushing into my mind.

I finally got up, opened the window for a breather. Then out of nowhere, it struck me. The decision had been made. I closed the window and went straight into the Operation Theatre.

He didn’t survived, was all I said coming out of the OT after 5 hours. But they never knew what happened in there. He was resuscitating after the operation. I “accidently” cut one of his veins. He died of heavy internal bleeding. Jackie was with me when I did it, and instead of her looking at me as I was some kind of a criminal, she looked at me with her blank look, which made me even more doubtful for what I had done. But what was done was done. Nothing I could say or do can make it anything else then it really is.

It had been 30 days since that happened. I haven’t been to the hospital since then. I haven’t been taking any calls or messages from anyone at the hospital, not even Jackie. Now standing at the rooftop smoking a cigarette, which I should clarify, was may be my second ever, I am not a smoker, and I just felt like the right occasion. Smoking and still wondering if what I did was right, I look into the vast emptiness of the night sky, I do truly believe what is did that day was right. I could never be a celebrity, never a president, this might be the only worth thing I might have done in my small and unimportant life. Yet I still look up to the sky and pray to god, for I have done, the wrongfully right.