September 27th, 2019
Omar
The roadmap to getting my life back on track had been the following:
Spend one year in the Internal Medicine program at the University Hospital of Illinois in Chicago so there are no gaps in my CV while applying for surgery programs - to do what had always been my career goal; become a surgeon at a major academic center.
By all accounts I was well on my way to that ultimate goal. I had done superbly in residency so far; the attendings gave me great me reviews, the senior residents (including her) said I was one of the best interns they had worked with and my patients and their families always appreciated me taking care of them. And I had interviews lined up at several leading surgery programs around the country, all outside of Chicago.
The cherry on top was that my childhood friend had made great strides in her road to recovery from a life-threatening illness and was close to coming off the ventilator. Baby girl Noor had never required a ventilator and was now growing and feeding like a premature champ. Even the annoying Salman was becoming more bearable.
Yet, I hadn't been able to sleep peacefully a single night over the last two weeks. Or breathe comfortably in the morning, as I stood next to the resident who had pulled the rug from under me.
Though, I suppose I shouldn't be blaming her. I always knew that she was getting married. Yet, I had been foolish enough to let thoughts of her overshadow my every waking moment till it felt like every road I took would forever be haunted by memories of her. And there was nothing I could do to prevent it.
Except let the bitter taste of coffee, the shade of her, distract me from the gnawing pain within.
"Are you making that for your favorite senior resident?", a voice startled me as I stood at the coffee station in the cafeteria. I quickly recognized the former villain of my story.
"Madi left early today"
"Oh yeah?", he leaned against the counter next to me and smirked, "So she is your favorite?"
I silently cursed myself. Of course I had to take her name in front of Salman. But what I could I do? From the resident who had taught me how to place a central venous line in under 30 seconds and intubate a dying patient in under 15, she had become the favorite part of my life.
Now she is going to be someone else's favorite, I reminded myself the painful truth in a desperate attempt forget her despite Salman's attempts to the contrary.
"Or is the answer to every question 'Madi' now? Because she literally lives in your head", he laughed.
"Stop talking to me", I grumbled and tried to walk away. He just followed close behind, still laughing like a maniac.
"Man you have it bad for her"
I swung around, "Shut up"
"I will, if you tell her how you feel"
I should have denied everything the man was saying, but those words never came out. Maybe it was his piercing gaze, or just the fact that after holding the truth in for so many days I was bursting at the seems and if anyone understood how agonizing that was, it would be this idiot.
"I can't, ok? She is having a Nikah tomorrow", I heard myself say against my better judgement.
"What?", he yelped, "When did she move the date up?"
"Two weeks ago"
"So you've had two weeks to convince her not to marry that a****le and you've done nothing?"
"What could I do? She made her choice", I snapped.
He slapped his forehead, "So give her a reason to make another choice instead of just walking away"
I walked away from your wife too, I wanted to say to him.
The similarity between my past and present was uncanny. And so was that sinking feeling that I would never be good enough for anyone. I was the dull 28 year old who had spent so much time buried in work that I could never have the cocky, self-assured personality of Salman or the flashy finance job and attractive looks of Jawad.
I was just me.
Salman looked down at his phone and said, "I have to go to the NICU. I told the nurse I'd feed my daughter"
The smirk on his face had disappeared when he put a hand on my shoulder, "Look man, I don't know you well enough but I do know one thing for sure. I've never seen Madi light up the way she does when she talks about the sweet intern she works with. Maybe that doesn't mean anything, and that is just who she is, but you'll never know if you let her do a Nikah with that ridiculous finance bro"
He left, but his words stayed. Echoing in the chambers of my heart, they gave rise to a hope I had all but abandoned.
Does Madi think of me as more than an intern?
I kept asking myself that question all the way to the residents workroom. There I saw a burgundy stethoscope with 'M. Ahmed' written on its label. If I had ever believed in a sign from Allah, this was it.
I knew exactly what I had to do next.
Madiha
The fogginess on the bathroom wall distorted my face. It dulled out my features and lightened my darkness. It was like a mask that hid everything society told me was wrong with me. There was comfort in that, just as there was comfort within the walls of this bathroom.
But outside, there was an intern for whom my walls might as well have been made up of glass. Why he was here I had no idea. This wasn't the first time I had forgotten my stethoscope at work. It certainly didn't warrant an hour trip to the suburbs late in the evening after a full day of work.
On any other day I would have dabbed on some foundation to hid my blemishes and freckles and pulled up my hair into a ponytail so it didn't look like a ghonsla on top of my head. But today I had had enough of this world and the filter I had to hide behind. If everyone saw me as nothing but a dusky skinned woman with nothing else to offer, then so be it.
I put on my night suit pajama with a plain white t-shirt and walked out only to run into my mother in the near the front door.
"Where do you think you're going looking like that?", she frowned, "At least put your hair up and change into a shalwar kameez"
"For God's sake Ami, I am just going to take something from the intern I work with"
"Intern ho ya senior, iss haal mai logoun ke saamne aani ki zaroorat nahi hai"
(Whether its an intern or a senior, there is no need to go in front of people looking like this)
On any other day, I would have obliged my mother. Maybe even sent my brother to collect a measly stethoscope, but that night there was a fire of defiance within me. The subdued woman who always gave in to her parents was no where to be found. And in her place was a survivor of society's hypocrisy. Cloaked in an armor of indifference, with daggers drawn I squared my shoulders in front of my mother.
"Agar aap ko meri shakl se koi maslaa hai to Allah se shikwa karein. Meri jaan chhor dein", I told her and walked out of the house slamming the door behind me.
(If you have a problem with my face, complain to Allah. Leave me alone)
"What do you want?", I asked the intern standing on our front porch with a hoodie over his scrubs.
The darkness shrouding us was punctuated by faint luminesce of fairy lights that were the only remnants left of a shaadi wala ghar. In that Omar stood still, his lips parted with a strange expression on his face. Maybe, if my eyes had adjusted to the dim light I would have been able to make out the depth of emotions in his eyes but right then his silence was as infuriating as the taunts of my mother.
"Omar, what do you want?", I repeated loudly, more curtly.
"I - I got your stethoscope", he said in a low, hoarse voice and extended his hand.
I grabbed the burgundy object from him, and said, "I didn't need it, but thank you", just before I turned my back towards him and was about to go back inside when a hand on my shoulder stopped me.
"Don't marry him", Omar breathed out, surprising me.
"What?", I swung around to face him.
"Don't marry Jawad. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are, not someone who doesn't even respect you"
"And who exactly am I, Dr Omar?", I snapped at him, because as far as I was concerned this man and his caring attitude that gave me false hope all while he was planning to be nothing but a temporary guest in my life could keep his opinions to himself.
I didn't need his opinions, or him.
He looked away and didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. Enough time for me to blow out hot air and head back inside.
But that was before I heard him speak, slow and deliberately, like each word carried a truth he whole heartedly believed in.
"You are rare Madi, like a diamond even though you think of yourself as nothing but coal. You see yourself from the eyes of others without realizing that others are simply scared of your brilliance and will do anything to bring you down. You are the definition of strength and selflessness. You are inspiration to others by simply being yourself".
He finally looked up at me, "I could keep going on, but I think you get the picture"
Standing closer to the open door, with light from the foyer falling on him, I could see the warmth in his eyes. I would be a fool not to admit that the sincerity in his voice hadn't paused the self-destructing thoughts swirling in my mind. But knowing what I knew of him, the only way to quell my deep-seated yearning for him was to build a thicker wall.
I shook my head, "Pretty words like those are not meant for messy people like me"
But he was undeterred, "You're not messy, Madi. You just live in a messy world"
There he goes again, I thought. To me he was just being the kind intern with the uncanny ability to say the right things at the right time.
He would have done this for anyone else, I told myself. Just like he said he would have raced to a train station in the middle of the night for any other resident. I wasn't special. I never could be, for anyone.
I decided to come clean so he could put his conscience to rest and leave me alone.
"I am not getting married to Jawad", I said, and watched his eyes widen, "The wedding is off, so you can go home now. Thank you very much"
I stepped inside and started to close the door, when I heard him ask, "Why is the wedding off?"
Bitterness seeped into my voice, and I didn't bother hiding it, "Not that its any of your business, but apparently I am not worthy of getting married to. The only thing I can offer is an American citizenship and a doctor's income. And you know what, I refuse to give that to a two-faced, lying, incompetent buffoon"
His face contorted with a frown, and he started to say something but I didn't let him. The catharsis I had just experienced with my rambling felt too good. And I trusted the intern standing in front of me enough to know that he what I said out loud now would never be repeated again.
"In fact, I am never giving anything to any man ever again. I am sick and tired of this society, and done with this whole marriage business. I don't ever want another rishta, or be associated with another man. I know I am destined to die alone and I am perfectly fine with that"
There, I said it. Every frustration on my mind was now out in the open now. And to be honest I felt like a load had lifted off my shoulders.
Omar raked his fingers through the locks of hair that fell across his forehead, before quietly nodding.
"Do you want a friend?"
I raised an eyebrow, "You want to be my friend?"
He shrugged, a slight smile played on his lips, "I think I kind of am already. Only friends drive an hour to hand deliver a stethoscope"
I couldn't help smiling at the absurdity of his actions, "And then stay to talk said friend out of a wedding?"
"Yes", his smile widened, "That too, and listen to her rant afterwards"
I thought about it for a second, but couldn't help chuckling and extending my hand, "Ok then, Dr Omar. Let's be friends, though don't expect me to go easy on you. You're still the intern"
He grasped my warm hand in his cold one, and gave it a firm shake, "As you say, Dr Madiha"
My hand still fit in his so perfectly that butterflies fluttered within me before I could stop them. But safely cocooned behind my thick walls they were easily ignored.
For the first time that day, I felt something other than self-loathing and regret at my destiny. And it was all because of this friendly intern, who would soon leave this city. But till he did, I figured I could at least have one adult relationship where I could be myself, freely and unapologetically, with no strings attached.
Maybe I could even let myself believe that I was the diamond, however rough and dusty, that he saw me as.
Omar
The Next Morning
"She called off her wedding, and we're friends now", I told Salman, who had walked up to me while I stood at the nurses station waiting for rounds to begin and demanded to know if I had spoken to Madi the night before and why she was at work today when it was supposed to be her Nikah. Unfortunately, I didn't think twice before telling him the truth, minus Madi's rant of course.
He looked at me aghast, "How the hell do you show up to a woman's house to stop her wedding like some filmi hero and end up in the friend zone? What in God's name is wrong with you?"
"Shhh", I quickly looked around, afraid someone would have heard him, "Will you keep your voice down, please"
"Fine", he whispered sarcastically, "So tell me, were you born stupid or do you really have no game at all"
"I have game, ok", I whispered back.
"Oh yeah?", he smirked and leaned in, "Then explain how you got dumped by one woman five days before your wedding, and got friend zoned by another even before confessing to her"
I frowned at his audacity to go there with me, "You really know how to get on people's nerves don't you?"
"At least I am not a coward"
"Shut up"
"You sh..."
"What are you two whispering about?", Madi's voice made us both jump.
"Uh nothing, nothing at all", I stuttered, trying my hardest to stop my cheeks from flushing.
"I was just telling him that he needs to speak up...", Salman started to say. I discreetly shoved my elbow into his ribs, hard.
He coughed, too dramatically if you ask me, but thankfully got the message and finished his sentence differently, "...on rounds, so that the attending knows he's not stupid", which was good because I wouldn't have hesitated from kicking him in the shin too.
I wasn't a coward.
I had gone to Madi's house to tell her everything; that I thought about her much more than I should, and despite my every attempt to purge her from my heart she had a place there that no one had ever had. And while I had no idea what my future held, I couldn't imagine one without her in it.
But the moment I saw her, even her raw unfiltered beauty wasn't enough to hide the pain in her eyes. The more I heard from her, the more it became obvious that any truth from me in that moment would only add further to her inner turmoil. And I could never see her in agony.
As much as it hurt to shove my feelings back inside, to become the coward Salman accused me of, I had to do it for her. The smile on her face, and the soft chuckle that escaped her pink lips, was worth it.
She and I could never be just friends. But for now, if this was the game I needed to play to keep her happy, I was determined to play it to the best of my ability.
*******
"Salman is right, Omar. You came up with Noor's extubation plan, so speak up when we reach her room", Madi whispered to me.
Noor's chest xray report from today was not completely normal but looked much improved, and she had only required pressure support from the ventilator over the last 12 hours. That meant that her body was initiating every breath on its own, and the ventilator was only giving her a bit of air pressure to open up the parts of her lungs that still had pus and fluid from the flu and bacterial infection. Her chest xray would not look normal for a while, but that was expected. The important thing was that it was much improved.
I had brought that up with Madi the moment she walked in to the residents room at 6:30 am. In all honesty, I had found myself tongue tied when she said 'hi' and instead of replying to her I blurted out an update on Noor's condition. It was almost like my childhood friend was my wing woman without knowing it!
"Sounds good. I will", I told Madi, and proceeded to do just that on rounds.
"I agree Omar, she'll need oxygen through a face mask likely but it doesn't seem like she needs the support of a ventilator", the attending replied to me. Turning towards the nurse he said, "Let's start to decrease her IV sedation, and as soon as she wakes up, we will pull the breathing tube"
Madi smiled, and mouthed 'good job'. My heart skipped a beat and I looked away. Unfortunately, that put me straight in the Salman's line of sight. He dramatically slapped his forehead and rolled his eyes.
"How long will I have to keep looking at the love struck face of yours?", he whispered when our team entered Noor's room and he came to stand next to me.
"Here is a thought, why don't you stop looking at me altogether"
"Then how will I make fun of you?", he smirked while Amber, Noor's nurse, shut off the sedative and then we all waited with bated breath.
Well, all except for Salman who was rambling on about something that I ignored. At first, I couldn't understand why this man who had been so devoted to his wife and their daughter through out their illness was taking such an interest in Madi and I at such a crucial time as this. Then it struck me.
He talked when he was nervous. His interest in my life was just a cover for his fear about what was to come for his wife. So many things could go wrong, between now and when Noor would ultimately be herself.
I put a hand on his shoulder, "You can make fun of me all you want, but if you're scared for Noor, its ok to admit it"
The change in his demeanor was instant.
His shoulders slumped and for the first time since we had entered the room that morning, he dared to look at his wife, and quietly said, "About 20% of patients like her end up needing to go back on the ventilator. When they do, their outcomes are much worse than those that are successfully extubated"
Stats. We doctors loved them because they give us a sense of what to expect. But for patients and their families they were numbers that could mean the difference between life and death. Their loved one, their n=1, was the only stat they were concerned about.
"That means 80% do not require re-intubation and are able to come off the ventilator successfully. So how about we focus on that statistic instead?"
He nodded slowly and his gaze shifted to Noor.
"Thanks man", he said without looking at me.
"Don't mention it. What are friends for anyway?"
He scoffed, "Oh bhai, don't push your luck. Your friend zone may be the most comfortable place for any woman you've ever laid eyes on, but I live far far away from it"
Noor made a soft choking sound, an indication that she was starting to wake up enough to realize that there was a tube in her throat. Madi and the ICU fellow sprung into action then, as one gently pulled the tube out while the other held her head steady.
Salman was at her bedside the next second, holding her hand. I walked closer to him. There were enough doctors in that room to handle any medical emergency. Something told me I was better suited for a non-physician role in that moment.
"Keep lying, and I'll make sure you become my bestest friend ever", I told him.
He laughed just as Noor opened her eyes and looked at him. I swear, I saw tears in his eyes and a kind of love I had never seen before, in hers.
*******
Madi and Omar as friends -- who thinks that is going to last? Haha
But did you think Madi should have reacted any differently after what she went through in the last chapter?
Omar may be moving away soon. Should he give up his dream to become a surgeon for Madi's sake?
Anyone loving Salman and Omar's bromance? I know I am 😂
Next chapter should come relatively soon, and is a one off POV from Noor/Salman.
Please vote and comment!!