RUWAIDA ✔️

CHAPTER FIFTY

"Dr M Ibrahim, concentrate, we're losing the patient," Sharply, Muhammad's far look disappeared and his eyes returned to the unconscious face of the old lady. The values on the heart monitor began to slowly decrease and the beeping sounds intensified with an uneven throb. He put down the scalpel and slipped one hand under the blue sheets covering the patient's chest area to check her pulse, he could rarely feel it. He did the same to her temple, yet, nothing was different.

He panicked. Dr Alex looked up at the nurse who rushed with the bowl of instruments, noticing the incision that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Dr Alex, she's loosing so much blood," For a moment there, Alex too was void of what to do. Muhammad was standing like he was paralyzed, and there was the nurse, panicking.

"Bring two units of blood, now!,"  Alex seized the sponge from Muhammad, using all tactics to stop the bleeding.

Muhammad shook his head worriedly. "Her blood pressure is decreasing," The nurse walked in and connected the IV, stabilizing the transfusion. It was important for them not to loose that patient. Her only grandson was out there tenaciously waiting; all alone.

"Calm down Dr Ibrahim...Nurse Maria...let me have the hot swab," She immediately twisted a small abdominal swab in hot water containing a specific amount of sodium chloride, then passed it to him. He pressed it gently over the incision, raising his head to the monitor. "Good, he's stable now," Muhammad was already checking it, turning away with a sigh.

"I think you need to relax...you can have the rest of the week off, go home Turaad," Muhammad looked at him shockingly. Even the nurse felt it wasn't necessary for Alex to talk to him in such a cold way. The silence in the theatre was so thick it could slice a metal as both doctors stared at each other. Alex was first to look away, confidently observing the stitching he was on.

"Dr Alex...But I've been on a break for a week already...I,"

"Don't argue Turaad, you performed two surgeries before this. You need to lie down a bit," Muhammad only nodded, moving with a promptness that did nothing in hiding his disappointment. But he fought the white gloves out of his hands, ripping the surgery gown off him angrily and seeking his hands not to punch the doors as they opened. He dropped the gown and his mask in the trash can.

Muhammad sat at the hallway of the two theaters, not knowing what was running through his mind or what he was supposed to do with what he was feeling. He understood the reason for his misery so clearly, but how to control it became like a glue he couldn't remove. He tiredly slipped from the chair to crouch on the floor, hiding his blotched face.

"Dr M Ibrahim," Dr Aisha rushed towards him, he looked up and saw her walking with fast strides, but it was like he couldn't see her. All that seemed to stick to his mind was that Ruwaida was back in the ICU and he was miles away from her. "Someone has been trying to reach you...I was just informed that you're out of surgery," She uttered raising up the phone to his view.

He put out a hand and took it. His hand was shaking slightly as he opened the phone and went straight to his call log. "Dr Samuel," He whispered seeing Samuel's numerous miscalls and in a swift, he was up on his feet, struggling to rush pass her and at the same time put the phone in his trouser pocket. 

"Is everything alright?," She'd to ask. Even the way he was washing his hands at the basin was questionable.

"InshaAllah, I'm also hoping to hear good, inform Abdullah that I'll be here to see him tomorrow InshaAllah, something came up," Muhammad walked away without much words.

And it was like that he drove to Abuja. While waiting for Samuel, he spent the time in a vigorously demented state. He was very mindful of his medics and of course had always a way out of problems while in surgery, but that day, he froze. It was so unlike him.