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Make Believe: An illusion
Take # 2
3rd April 1873,
It all started with a child.
On a day when the sun brimmed over the sky with the intent to roast like it normally did. When the rustle of people in the crowd was just as magnificently distracting like it always had been, a shrieking scream shattered the mundane within a second.
A snotty, nose dripping six year old lying on the stretcher, wailed at the top of his lungs in the corridor. His voice loud enough to break through the thickness of the noise of idle chatter. It was almost as if perhaps the kid knew his life was at stake.
Smart kid; he thought right.
The green gash over the boy's arm was horrendous to look at, and even worse to stand by. It kept on growing to his elbows at the speed of a bullet train without a station. Like a micro fungus, it ate his skin bit by bit, rotting the edges of the area around it.
It was only a matter of time till it'd reach his heart.
We only had hours.
His parents, frantically cradled their child with desperation, and did what any sensible parent would have done in that moment.
Wreck havoc.
A hefty crowd had begun to gather around the family. Nurses, Doctors, Staff, Patients, everyone there to get a look at the spectacle.
It wasn't a question anymore. Something had to be done.
But what? Nobody had ever seen such a rare case before. Heck, it felt like a lost cause.
All faculties that had the slightest inclination to medicine were assigned to treat the boy.
Side note: Despite how the tagline "humans lives matter" and "our purpose is saving you" was plastered across all the grimy walls in the hallway... the truth was butter but robustly clear; we were a cold, calculating, and rational institution. We did nothing from the goodness of our heart. There was... always logic.
The kid was lucky that he too had a logical powerful dad shouting for him, and he was even luckier that his dad hd some handy resources or so to say hefty diamond framed strings attached to the higher ends.
One call from his side and all faculties were sent haywired, running to cancel every appointment they could from their schedule.
Things escalated when the possibility of the gash being contagious came out into the open.
It would have been a comical sight... to see the fall in expressions.
The bystanders taking an unconscious step back.
The concern dissipating just as swiftly as it had came.
The crowd rapidly dusting their clothes in fear as they fleed.
Within seconds the audience had dispersed.
We were all, of course, self inclined.
The hospital, them... us. It only but took a moment for it to come out into the open.
The directors called in the board. Anyone who had the slightest inclination to medicine was brought forward to the meeting.
I was just a trainee back then. Someone a professor would barely warrant a look at twice.
Remember what's it like to write a thesis... How the professor who'd never remember your name would make you do all these senseless chores... How despite that you were still not Ruth but Bob or Steve or... all forbid, Bianca, despite being a man, at times...
So when I stood in front of all these white suited, booted qualified doctors and professors, a switch went up in my mind.
I had to do something.
The desire to be recognized raged inside of me like an inferno...
And that inferno, that desire, that soptlight... became my undoing.
"And we are but like wax. Not ink carved to stone. We writhe, shift and mold into but what form our live makes us enfold."
If you were here, Abi, I know that you would have fiercely told me otherwise... but you won't, can't... no matter how much I want you to...
Maybe this is why I keep on writing such things... thinking that maybe it'll bring you back to me.
You know me, I have always been stubborn.
I'll keep on writing till I can't...
I know... It would have been better if you hadn't taught me to hope.
Sinningly Yours forever,
Dr. Ruth.
____🌑🌔🌓🌖🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑___
© Mehr
3rd April 1873,
It all started with a child.
On a day when the sun brimmed over the sky with the intent to roast like it normally did. When the rustle of people in the crowd was just as magnificently distracting like it always had been, a shrieking scream shattered the mundane within a second.
A snotty, nose dripping six year old lying on the stretcher, wailed at the top of his lungs in the corridor. His voice loud enough to break through the thickness of the noise of idle chatter. It was almost as if perhaps the kid knew his life was at stake.
Smart kid; he thought right.
The green gash over the boy's arm was horrendous to look at, and even worse to stand by. It kept on growing to his elbows at the speed of a bullet train without a station. Like a micro fungus, it ate his skin bit by bit, rotting the edges of the area around it.
It was only a matter of time till it'd reach his heart.
We only had hours.
His parents, frantically cradled their child with desperation, and did what any sensible parent would have done in that moment.
Wreck havoc.
A hefty crowd had begun to gather around the family. Nurses, Doctors, Staff, Patients, everyone there to get a look at the spectacle.
It wasn't a question anymore. Something had to be done.
But what? Nobody had ever seen such a rare case before. Heck, it felt like a lost cause.
All faculties that had the slightest inclination to medicine were assigned to treat the boy.
Side note: Despite how the tagline "humans lives matter" and "our purpose is saving you" was plastered across all the grimy walls in the hallway... the truth was butter but robustly clear; we were a cold, calculating, and rational institution. We did nothing from the goodness of our heart. There was... always logic.
The kid was lucky that he too had a logical powerful dad shouting for him, and he was even luckier that his dad hd some handy resources or so to say hefty diamond framed strings attached to the higher ends.
One call from his side and all faculties were sent haywired, running to cancel every appointment they could from their schedule.
Things escalated when the possibility of the gash being contagious came out into the open.
It would have been a comical sight... to see the fall in expressions.
The bystanders taking an unconscious step back.
The concern dissipating just as swiftly as it had came.
The crowd rapidly dusting their clothes in fear as they fleed.
Within seconds the audience had dispersed.
We were all, of course, self inclined.
The hospital, them... us. It only but took a moment for it to come out into the open.
The directors called in the board. Anyone who had the slightest inclination to medicine was brought forward to the meeting.
I was just a trainee back then. Someone a professor would barely warrant a look at twice.
Remember what's it like to write a thesis... How the professor who'd never remember your name would make you do all these senseless chores... How despite that you were still not Ruth but Bob or Steve or... all forbid, Bianca, despite being a man, at times...
So when I stood in front of all these white suited, booted qualified doctors and professors, a switch went up in my mind.
I had to do something.
The desire to be recognized raged inside of me like an inferno...
And that inferno, that desire, that soptlight... became my undoing.
"And we are but like wax. Not ink carved to stone. We writhe, shift and mold into but what form our live makes us enfold."
If you were here, Abi, I know that you would have fiercely told me otherwise... but you won't, can't... no matter how much I want you to...
Maybe this is why I keep on writing such things... thinking that maybe it'll bring you back to me.
You know me, I have always been stubborn.
I'll keep on writing till I can't...
I know... It would have been better if you hadn't taught me to hope.
Sinningly Yours forever,
Dr. Ruth.
____🌑🌔🌓🌖🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑___
© Mehr
