The practitioner was saying nothing at the moment. She was just walking me through the hallway until we arrived at the ward where the boy was.
She slightly opened the curtains, and whatever I saw, I just could not fathom. The boy was under intense care, with a heartbeat-aiding machine. In addition, his skin had turned pale, and we seemed to be losing him. I knew this was the moment we would lose him.
"Doctor Levin, call the Care Unit. We need to keep him on track," Doctor Heung stated, as I rushed towards the Intensive Unit for children.
"We need help," I stated, and as fast as possible, they started preparing everything—the bed—and we walked it through the hallway to the sole ward where the boy slept. His heartbeat being aided by the machine could either cause an increase in the hole, and I knew this was bad, but it was the only way. I did not even know if Doctor Heung would accept us to do the surgery when suddenly the curtains were drawn fully, the lights were dimly lit, and the big lamp's white light was adjusted towards the chest of the boy. And I knew, it was the moment.
"Doc, they haven't signed," I whispered in Doctor Heung's ear, and his facial expression made me wish death upon myself. I couldn't leave since I was also expected to be in there performing the procedure. As if knowing my fear, he called out one practitioner and told him to make the family sign. We could never start a surgery until the family decided to sign. Every second became a minute; the practitioner had not yet arrived with the papers. Every minute became ten; still not yet, and I knew from the lessons I had learned over the years of practice that a young child's heart and an elderly person's heart cannot bear the impulses of a technological heartbeat machine. So I stormed out as fast as I could to my office where Funky and Kate were. On entry, they were sitting there, still with the practitioner trying to explain to them why they needed to sign the papers.
"Kate, you gotta sign that paper," I stated in a pleading way. A lot lay in store if the child was not aided quickly.
"Why are you trying to force us to sign?" Funky stated, standing to face me, his eyes bloodshot. I was already in my blue surgical gear and helmet and already had my gloves, which I had thoroughly cleaned. I was ready, except the fact that these two were being adamant.
"Dude," I started, I wanted to tell him we might lose him, but I stopped myself.
It was not right to sometimes tell the patient's family they might lose the child. In case that happens, they might say that you—the doctors—did not do their best in surgery, as they had already anticipated the death.
"We have to do our best, but we cannot do it with you being adamant. If he carried my name, do you think I would have to even ask for your opinion?" The last part came out without expectation; my blood was already boiling, and every minute, the child's life was in a critical state. His heart might not take the constant pressure of the machine.
"Doctor Levin," the practitioner started, and I knew he meant, "Check your voice," and I nodded.
Before even saying another word, Kate took the pen and signed it, everywhere she was required to, as Funky raised his voice to her, questioning why she was doing it. It was as if Funky wanted the child to die. I would deal with him later.
"Hayzen," Kate called after the practitioner left with the sheet of papers that Kate had signed. She dragged me to the outside, closing the door with Funky inside, and then placed her hands on my cheeks,
"He will be okay?" she added, her eyes already watering seeking assurance. I knew I could not tell her yes or no. So I just brought her into a hug, and then without a second passing by, I held her hands with my washed gloves and told her,
"We will do everything we can," I stated, then unknowingly planted a kiss right on her left cheek.
Funky clearing his throat shocked the whole of me, but it seemed to shock Kate more, and then;
"Hayzennn!" was the next thing I heard behind me. Was that Aaliyah? Turning to face the voice, I came face to face with a rushing Aaliyah, who planted a hard slap on my face.
"DOCTOR LEVIN!" Doc Heung, God! I left without saying a word. I did not know what would happen behind me as I walked through the lawn to the washing area to wash off my gloves once again. No, I actually changed them, and washed, cleaning and all that. You can't operate on a body without being thoroughly clean. And then I entered the surgical room.
"We have one hour, the machine pressure seems to be expanding the hole," Doc Heung stated to me and the crew, and we started quickly, as the beeping of the machine indicating the boy was still with us continued.
"Scissors, left vent, right, seal," Doc Heung explained as he performed the actions.
I was the one who always took over in stitching after the older doctors did the hard part of surgery. The whole fixing went on nicely, in addition to the stitching and closing up the chest. Of course, his heart beat was being enforced by the machine meaning we needed to disconnect it, to prove our work successful.
However, as we slightly disconnected the machines from his body, there was no response. It was a tiny heartbeat. We all looked at each other.
'Should we reopen?' I questioned myself.
Again, the rate was slow. We were losing him. We indeed were losing him.
"We can't lose him!" I exclaimed. This kind of exclamation was not right in a surgical room.
"No one wants to lose him," Doctor Heung corrected, and I submitted to his correction.
The boy's legs were cold, too cold. The only thing we could do was wait a few minutes to see if his faint heartbeat would get the rhythm.
Of course, this sometimes happens when the body is shocked after the heartbeat technology machine is used. It might be hard for the heart to adjust. But as we waited, one last beep was the only thing I heard, and then the flatline electrocardiogram; that all doctors and surgeons dread to see but always see daily.
And from there, darkness clouded me. "Doctor Levi," and the beeping side was all I heard.
"Doctor Levin!" Doctor Heung stated again, and I opened my eyes. It seemed I had frozen at the moment. I thought I had fainted, but I had frozen, frozen between watching the beeping sound flatline and the boy. "Let's use the automated external defibrillator."
I just nodded despite not being okay with it. It was wrong using it on a just opened wound. However, I knew Doctor Heung was so focused on making the heart beat again. But I just knew it was too late., the AED could never save this.,it was logical.
So the practitioners started the compressions on the boy's chest, as blood spilled profusely. My tears could not get a hold of themselves. They started coming out uncontrollably, but no whimper could be heard. I was rubbing them right when they tasted the outside air. Nonetheless, even through the children's AED, it did not even shake the heart rate system.
I was strong, but I didn't know if I was strong enough to face Kate.
The next thing was all the machines being disconnected, and the boy being covered with a white sheet by the practitioners, as I squatted there, disappointment, and everything we could have done embracing my thoughts. If only Funky had signed those papers faster, this would have been easier, I told myself.
"If only you could have held on a little longer," I stated, hoping the boy would hear me. "You are strong though; Daddy couldn't even save you when you needed him the most," I said, as tears unwantedly poured.
I did not want the practitioners who were entering to wonder why I was still there, so I just left the surgical room and headed to the male washrooms. There I would maybe look at myself in the mirror and tell myself it's going to be okay. So I entered the washrooms.
They were staff washrooms, so I knew no unwanted person would be there. But the moment I turned the knob and entered the washroom, I was met with Funky's eyes, who was apparently leaving. A cold stream ran through my body, dumbfounded, not knowing what to say.
"Excuse me," I mumbled, and he let me in, but did not let himself out. He just closed the door, and we were here alone.
"How is the surgery going?" he asked.
I was sure three hours had passed since we entered that surgical room. I still had not even removed the surgical clothes. Today I was a mess. They were still blood-stained. I wanted to mumble anything, but nothing came out of my mouth. I did not know what to say. I could not tell him. It was not supposed to be said this way. I knew that it was my responsibility, as I was the night shift doctor on duty, to break the news to the family. So I just emptied my bowels under his watch after removing my surgical clothes, and then just using my right hand, I slightly rubbed his left shoulder, and I walked outside without saying a word.