Palestwinians - One Shots.

II. Salma's POV.

~ Song on the side of what they listen to in the car. 

II. Salma's POV. 

I slowly breathed in through my nose and cracked my knuckles, before shaking out my aching hands. I parted my lips and allowed a tired sigh to pass out. Rubbing at my blood shot eyes, I began to head for the door, but not before adjusting the stethoscope around my neck and making sure my hijab was still on securely. After all, I had been in that surgery room for hours. 

With my hands now hidden in the pockets of my white coat, I slowly trudged up to the room that I knew my, now awake patient, was resting in. I stopped and gave a light knock, before walking in. I let a small grin grace my face as I observed the couple before me. The husband was playing with the wisps of his wife’s hair whilst she laid her head back, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. She was pale, her eyes sunken in slightly and all together, she looked weak, which was expected after the eight hour surgery.  

They seemed not to have realised I was in the room, so I cleared my throat and straightened my back. Remain professional. Their heads snapped towards me. The husband clambered to his feet and his wife and my patient Lina, sat up briskly, both now very alert at my arrival. 

They don’t know yet. And it’s your job to tell them.

Their anticipation and fear was almost tangible, suffocating me in the already small room. I willed my voice not to shake as readied myself to deliver the bad news. “Good afternoon Mr and Mrs Taleb.” 

“Doctor, our son?!” The husband questioned immediately, ignoring my greeting. He walked up and stood a little closer, his hands pulled together, as if in a plea for me to take away their fears.

“Yes, please, tell us what happened. The other midwives said they could not divulge any information until you arrived,” Lina added, her eyes wide.  

I cleared my throat a second time and willed the tears not to develop. I was about to break their hearts…forever. “Yes, I was the one in charge of the surgery and I personally asked the other doctors not to give out any information.” I kept on a neutral expression, despite the look on both their faces. In my heart, a tornado of anguish was quickly being created. For now, I dismissed it. “Unfortunately we could not save your son.”  

As soon as the words left my lips, a wailing cry, so deep and full of pain, reverberated through the room. Lina’s husband fell to his knees, burying his head in his hands.

“Ya Allah! How?” he sobbed, looking up at me momentarily. I grasped my hands together in front of me, in an effort to prevent them from shaking violently.  

“Complications arose during the surgery. Your son’s heart ruptured and not too long after, Lina’s heart rate began to drop. It was either Lina or your son, we could not have saved both.” My voice at this stage held no emotion, and I was staring icily ahead. 

I needed to get out of this room. Now.  

“You should have chosen him and taken me!” Lina yelled, tears flowing freely and an angry scowl marring her beautiful face. 

I shook my head sadly. “I’m so very sorry for your loss. Know that we tried everything possible, but Allah SWT had different plans,” I spoke in an attempt to comfort them. I turned to walk out and give them some privacy as they clutched onto each other for dear life.  

“They should have taken me,” were the last strangled words I heard from the heartbroken mother as I departed the room. I closed the door and paused to take in a choked breath, leaning one hand against the wall. It was my first time breaking the news of a deceased to their family members - and I knew it would take its toll on me.