A/N: Thank you so much for your votes and comments on the last chapter! They really meant a lot ❤
January 2020
Madiha
Mystery Coronavirus from China: What to Know (WebMD)
Michael Mina said the development of a rapid test for the new coronavirus makes him hopeful that the outbreak can be contained. "This has probably been the fastest response to date of any epidemic," he said.
That was article I was reading while I sat at a coffee shop on the corner street right across from the hospital. My overnight shift was about to start in a couple of hours, but before that there was something I had been meaning to do for a while. My plans though had been thwarted every time by the busy life of senior residents
"Hey Madi, sorry for being late." A woman's voice called out.
I looked up to see my smiling friend with a large latte in her hand, "No worries at all, Noor. Honestly, I should thank you for taking the time out to meet. How do even manage to get out of the house with a baby at home?"
"Don't ask," she sighed and removed her heavy winter coat before taking a seat across from me.
"Thankfully Mama is visiting, so I was able to slip away. But between the time I have to make up at work because of my maternity leave and Salman's intense schedule we're literally living hour to hour right now."
I shook my head, "That just sounds crazy. Though, I am sure you wouldn't change it for anything else."
She smiled in a way only a mother would, "No I wouldn't. I love every minute of my life too."
We chatted a bit about the paradox of motherhood, and then gleefully watched videos of Ayah on Noor's phone, as well as the million pictures she seemed to have taken. It wasn't till we exhausted all parenting related topics that Noor took a sip of her coffee and gave me a knowing look. Instantly, I realized that Salman had done the exact thing I had explicitly warned him not to do – he had revealed the words I had accidentally uttered in front of him.
"Speaking of kids, I heard Omar taking care of Ayah made you reveal some truths last month."
"That husband of yours is such a tattle tale," I huffed.
"Don't worry he only told me. But we are both waiting for you to tell Omar yourself," she laughed, just like her husband.
What is it with these couples in love that start to behave like each other, I wondered.
Though, I should have been glad she brought this up herself. I wouldn't ever admit this to anyone, but the reason I wanted to meet her was to - well, get her perspective.
Neither, would I ever accept how much that episode in the hospital foyer had unnerved me. Or the relief I felt when Omar vehemently shook his head and insisted he would never agree to marrying Fatima - the architect. But the relief was short-lived as it dawned on me that Omar was exactly the kind of guy women fell in love with in real life.
Handsome, tall, dark hair, infectious smile, kind-hearted, generous, polite. That list could go on and on. And so could the list of women he could be paired up with in life. Women who looked like the one sitting in front of me, several shades fairer with thick straight hair and pretty almond shaped eyes.
I loved Noor as a friend, and could never imagine myself having anything but friendly thoughts for her. But I had spent the last month comparing myself to her despite my best efforts not to. Every time I thought of Omar, she came to mind. After all, she was the woman he was so desperately in love with that her rejection made him delay an entire year of surgical training.
I knew he was over her. I had to believe that. But if Noor was the kind of woman he wanted, I was the complete opposite of it.
And that realization hurt enough for my heart to keep itself securely locked in its cage.
"Madi?" Noor's voice brought me out of my own conflicting thoughts.
"Talk to me. What's on your mind?" she probed gently.
When I didn't answer, I didn't even know where to start, she reached out and squeezed my hand, "I don't know if Omar is the guy for you, that is for you to decide. But I can tell you one thing for sure, you can trust him with everything, including your heart."
"Why couldn't you?" I blurted out the question that had been on the back of my mind.
She smiled and sat back, "Because the love story Allah wrote for me was with Salman, not Omar. His story is written with someone else who can love him back as much as he loves her."
You will find someone who will love you as much as you love her. Maybe Noor wasn't the right person, but someone else will be. I had said that to Omar months ago, the night Noor came to the ICU. I wasn't talking about myself back then, but now the thought of anyone else being in love with him felt like daggers plunging into my chest.
But can he love you the way he loved Noor? A voice within me asked, just like it had on a loop these last few weeks.
"Why does life always seem so complicated?" I said out loud.
Noor casually shrugged, "Life can also be incredibly unfair, filled with drama and heartache that often lies beyond our control. But in all that, miracles happen every day, and even in life's ugliest parts, there is a hidden beauty."
"So how do you navigate through it all without breaking?" I inquired.
Her sigh carried a sense of wisdom, "By not facing it alone, Madi. I know genuine people are rare. Yet, when you discover that one person who brings true happiness by accepting you for who you are, you hold onto them through thick and thin, as if your life depends on it. Because, in many ways, it truly does."
Only one face and name came to mind when she said who brings true happiness by accepting you for who you are. No matter how hard I tried to push him out I was beginning to realize it was a losing battle. The man, simply an intern who had reluctantly joined my residency program because life handed him lemons, had somehow become the part of my life I couldn't live without.
I didn't want to live without, even if I could.
"You're a wise woman," I smiled at my friend.
"So are you," she smiled back, "which is why I know you'll listen to your heart when the time is right."
My story couldn't have had worse timing, yet, like Noor said I had no choice but to listen to my heart. Because even If you can keep your head when all about you / Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, its the heart that willingly loses itself even in the midst of a crumbling world.
I finished my coffee and collected my things.
"Its always so great talking to you, Noor. Thanks for coming again. I wish I could stay but I have to take the inpatient sign out for the night."
She started to get up too, "Of course. I should get back home too, but I didn't realize you were working on the inpatient service this month."
"I am not. Kylie is. But her family is coming into town just for today so I offered to cover her evening call."
Suddenly, she broke out in a grin. Actually, it was more like the cocky smile her husband always gave when his brain cells were working overtime.
"Why are you smiling?" I asked suspiciously.
"Oh nothing," she laughed, "we ordered kabab rolls from Bundu Khan last night, and Salman called Omar over. He was just telling us how insanely busy he had been this month."
Heat crept up my neck. What Noor was implying was not nothing. She knew why I had offered to cover Kylie's shift.
Just like she knew the intern who would be covering the night shift with me.
Omar
"Madi is covering the night shift for me," Kylie declared just as soon as she entered the resident workroom.
I jerked my head up from the computer. "What? Why?" my voice squeaked while my heart tried to keep up with the thoughts racing through my mind.
"My parents are stopping over in Chicago for a night before flying off to Mexico for vacation. Madi was nice enough to cover for me," she replied nonchalantly, as if Madi switching with her was just a friendly gesture.
In all likelihood, it probably was. But I hadn't seen her for a while and now I was going to spend and entire night rushing around the hospital corridors with her as my senior resident. Just like we did in the ICU.
What was I supposed to do now?
I looked down at my scrubs, already wrinkled and stained from a day's worth of work. I was sure my hair looked more like a mop than hair at this point. I regretted not shaving that morning. Then I paused and wondered, since when have I been so conscious about my looks?
A voice mocked me, since you stupidly gave your heart away again.
That wasn't my choice, it just happened, I wanted to argue back when the door to our workroom opened.
It was too late to do anything but hold my breath.
She looked stunning, standing in the doorway with her luscious, black, curly hair flowing down her shoulders like a cascading waterfall. The rosy flush on her cheeks hinted at the chilly weather outside, and her full lips were a captivating shade of deep pink. I tried not to stare, knowing it was improper, but her presence had taken me by surprise. I hadn't seen her in quite some time, and her gaze, as she looked back at me, left me mesmerized. Her lips were slightly parted, her hand still clutching her bag, she seemed almost as stunned as I.
Did she feel what I felt? I wondered. A spark that burns without a single touch.
If I had any hope left in me, I might have entertained the idea that she was actually glad to see me, and not just as an intern. But she wasn't ready for anyone in her life, and so we were just friends.
Right?
"Hey Madi, thanks so much for coming," Kylie called out to her co-resident forcing both of us to look towards her, "and Omar are you ready?"
To be on call with Madi? Heck, no.
But I was a professional, and so was she. If time had stood still for her, like it did for me just a moment ago, for now, it was pushed to the back of our minds. Sparks were extinguished before they could ignite an inferno. Masks were donned like they had in the past.
I was an intern, she was my senior resident.
"Hey Omar," Madi said cheerfully, like she always said.
"Hi Madi," I replied respectfully, like I always did.
*******
By the time we were done with sign out we already had two new admits that had been moved up to the floor from the ER.
"Let's divide and conquer?" Madi asked, putting a stethoscope around her neck. The same burgundy one I had taken to her home the night before her Nikah. There was so much I needed to say to her that night. None of it had been said out loud yet.
None of it could be said out loud yet.
"Sounds good to me. Who do you want me to see?"
She looked through the charts of both patients, "How about you go and see Mr. Spencer White and I'll take care of Ms. Jada Williams."
"Ok"
I walked out of the residents room like I had so many times before, but this time I was also putting distance between me and her. It was a practical step, on a busy call night where hearts could not flutter and futures could not be dreamt off.
Though try as I might, Madi did what Madi always did. And I was back to square one; wanting to take her in my arms, protect her from the evil world around us, and in awe of her strength and dignity.
All while I fell harder and faster for her. If that was even possible
*******
Fen-Wang was our head nurse for the night. After initial training in Korea she had come to the US for the sake of her family. I had always found her competent and a people-person at her core. Which is why it made no sense that she was in tears outside Mr Spencer's room.
"Fen, what happened?"
I tried to walk towards her, but felt someone hold me back.
"Hey Omar, I'll take care of this patient. Why don't you head over to Ms Jada's room. She is in a sickle cell crisis. That is something you'll see often in the African-American population, so it'll be a good learning opportunity. Just make sure she is adequately hydrated and has good pain control," she started towards Fen.
"Oh ok," I wasn't surprised she was in her teaching mode, but I was curious nevertheless.
"Do you know what Mr Spencer has?"
"He is just here for high blood sugars", she said quickly and walked over to the head nurse. Both women had their back towards me and were whispering something. In retrospect, I should have walked over there too but that would mean having to be near her.
The further I stayed, the better it was.
So I turned and walked away.
I wished I hadn't.
Madiha
"Fen, what happened?" I hurried up to the head nurse who stood wiping her tears.
"That Spencer douche bag was in a car accident with minor injuries, has a blood sugar of 530 and a ugly wound on his arm but is covered with Nazi symbols and is insisting that he only wants to be treated by a White male physicians and nurses. I told him we didn't have anyone on our team that identifies as White only, so he threw the bedpan at me and told me not to give him the China virus", she relayed through soft sobs.
"Madi call the attending to handle this," she whispered when I hugged her. But I was going to graduate from residency in less that 6 months which made me an almost attending too. So I refused.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him myself. Could you alert security, just in case something happens."
"Are you sure," Fen's middle-aged eyes widened.
"I am."
Living with dark skin had its silver lining – not much else could be said to me that I hadn't already heard and grown accustomed to ignoring. While this reality was far from pleasant, at least the hateful words coming from him would be from a deranged stranger, someone rejected by society for the most part. His hurtful words could never affect me as deeply as those coming from close relatives and people who claimed to be my well-wishers.
I straightened my white coat and stethoscope, put on the most confident look I could muster, and stepped into Mr. Spencer's room.
"Good afternoon Mr. Spencer, I hear your blood sugars are off the chart and you were in a car accident this afternoon. How are you feeling now?"
"What the fuck? I specifically asked that Chinese woman to get me a White, male doctor. You are neither! Get out of here," he snarled at me.
I kept a straight face, as much as I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. "I am sorry Mr. Spencer, we do not honor requests like that at this hospital. Now I need to take a look at that wound on your arm and start you on an insulin drip"
But that triggered him even more, and he pushed my hand away aggressively when I tried to reach out take a look at a deep gash on his heavily tattooed arm.
"Get me a fucking white doctor, otherwise get out of my face. I have had enough of you uneducated dirty immigrants who are taking all our jobs," he yelled out.
"Keep your voice down Mr. Spencer, don't make me call security," I replied to him in a stern voice. There is nothing I could do if he did not want to get treated, he was free to leave, but I would not tolerate being yelled at.
Things just escalated from there. The patient shouted the most vulgar profanities, security stepped in and the patient's relations team was called. Finally, almost an hour later, the man seemed to calm down after he realized the hospital would not cave to his demands.
"He created a ruckus down in the ER too because the attending was a Latino," the person from the patient's relation team was told me.
"I know, the Dr Lopez paged me."
Luckily, I had gotten that page just after Omar left the room so he didn't hear our conversation. Luckier still, he didn't question why I was sending him to the sickle cell patient's room. I couldn't imagine what this Nazi sympathizer would have done to a brown man.
Suddenly the monitors started to beep. Spencer's oxygen level had suddenly dropped from 99% to 89%, and he was having difficulty breathing.
"What happened Mr. Spencer?" I asked, listening to his lungs.
"I...I...don't...know...can't breathe" he struggled to get his words out.
Omar
It had been over an hour since Madi and I had parted ways. My patient, Ms. Jada, had a recent viral illness which probably made her dehydrated and triggered her sickle cell crisis. I texted Madi all that, but she hadn't replied which was unusual. So I decided to go look for her.
I have no ulterior motive, I reassured myself.
What I saw in her patient's room made my stomach flip.
There were three hospital security personnel, two policemen standing with their hands on their gun holsters, a couple of men in business suits loudly talking on the phone and an x-ray technician. In the midst of all that were Fen and Madi, trying to control a man in his 20s covered in Nazi tattoos, who was obviously struggling to breathe but wouldn't stay still for the x-ray.
"What is happening?" I asked Madi as soon as I wiggled my way next to her.
Her eyes narrowed, "Why are you here? Go back to the resident room, please."
"No. You need help, Madi" I instantly knew what she was trying to do, and I was adamant to not let her. She shook her head but Fen called her over to the computer to look at the patient's chest x-ray.
"He has a broken rib on the right side. That's probably what's punctured the lung."
The punctured lung would have leaked air into the space between the lung and the chest wall making it difficult for that lung to expand.
"Why does he have a broken rib?" I asked.
"He was in a car accident."
"How come they didn't do an x-ray in the ER?" I asked, that would have been the correct protocol for a trauma victim.
"They tried, he didn't listen to the Latino doctor and they had other trauma victims to deal with so sent him up here."
Madi grabbed the needle decompression kit and calmly told her patient, "Mr Spencer, I have to stick this needle into your chest to let the air out."
His oxygen level was at 85% and he was in obvious distress, yet he frowned and said in a voice that was barely audible, "Get...away...you...dirty...bitch."
I felt like punching the man, Madi remained unfazed as two security personnel held him down and Madi did what she had to do to save this racist's life. His Oxygen levels started to rise again, and his breathing seemed less labored. But if anyone thought Madi, a dark-skinned doctor, saving his life would have altered this man's disgusting thinking, they were sorely mistake.
"Did you not hear me," he tried to push Madi's hand away when she attempted to listen to his chest, "I have a right to be treated by a doctor who doesn't have a low IQ like you filthy..."
I could no longer hold back.
My jaw ticked, "Watch your mouth. She is one of the most brilliant physicians in this hospital. You're lucky to get treated by her."
Seething with anger I had much more to say, but a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room.
"Omar, quit it, ok?" I found my previously calm senior resident glaring at me, as I was in the wrong.
"Why are you mad at me?"
"Because you're not letting me do my job."
"Madi, he has no right to call you such despicable names."
"I've been called worse," she shot back. "It's not a big deal. Go to the resident room and let me handle this my way"
"What do you mean you've been called worse?" I asked immediately, but she had already turned on her heels and gone back into the room.
She shut the door, so I couldn't see anything inside.
Madiha
Maybe I had been too harsh with Omar, he was just trying to help. But the truth is, I was dealing with a difficult situation and his hot-headedness was not helping. The thick walls I had developed over the years tended to collapse around him, making me feel things I couldn't afford to feel as I tried to save the life of a man who only saw the color of my skin.
By the time I stepped out of the room after handing off his case to the surgeons who were evaluating him for possible surgery, Omar was gone. I found him in the resident room, taking his anger out on the keyboard.
"You're going to have to replace the keyboard if you break it," I told him.
"Better this than me smashing someone's head," he muttered.
"Omar! You cannot talk about patients like that."
"Why not, Madi?" he swung around and looked at me. "How is it ok for people to say whatever they want about you?"
"Doesn't bother me, so let it go. We have a lot of work to do," I shrugged and logged into a work station.
He didn't let it go but at least this time his voice was mellow, "We are all caught up with the patients, but I am not buying that what just happened didn't bother you."
When I didn't answer, he came to sit next to me.
"Look at me, Madi," he urged, his deep voice and genuine tone rendered me helpless in his presence, as always. I turned to face him, his chocolate brown eyes bore into mine, captivating me so I couldn't look away even if I wanted to.
"Why did you switch patients with me?" he asked softly.
I told him the truth, "Its was a tough case, with minimal learning. As the senior resident it is my job to take on such cases. Besides, it's not like this is the first time I've dealt with people who have a problem with my skin color."
"I have plenty of experience dealing with people biased against me too. I am a person of color and belong to a demographic that isn't exactly the favorite around here. You should have let me handle him," he replied.
That is where I should have stopped, instead I found myself opening up more. Unspoken words, hidden thoughts, painful emotions all came tumbling out in front of a man who I knew would never judge me.
"All people of color don't have the same experience, Omar. There are gradations to the biases and hatred which is directly proportional to your skin tone. You are a light-brown skinned man, who grew up in Pakistan where your skin color is the desired shade of brown. I grew up in a culture where people have pitied me ever since I was a child, because I was dark skinned like my father and unlike my mother, didn't have the perfect facial features, or the hair texture. You don't have the same experience as me. Neither have you ever been called what I have"
He looked at me thoughtfully, "Is that what you meant when you said you've been called worse."
I had tried so hard till this point to keep it all inside me. The wounds that words had inflicted, the resulting scars and the accompanying pessimism, were all supposed to be hidden never to come to the surface. Certainly not when on call, and in front of an intern.
But he wasn't just an intern. Not anymore.
Drop the act, a voice from the past said.
"You can talk to me Madi," his voice from the present coaxed further. I had no choice but to give in. I was just so tired of holding it all in. So I told him everything, from the the taunts at school to the Aunties in the masjid and what Jawad had called me.
My voice was barely a whisper by the time I finished, "I am sorry for unloading on you like this."
"Don't ever apologize for being yourself."
"Thank you," I nodded, even let myself smile at the sincerity of his words.
"I know that with all my education and training, I should be able to ignore other people's opinions of me but when you keep hearing things like this..." I tore my gaze away from him, "at some point you start believing them too."
He didn't answer, just looked down at his hands.
The long silence that followed in that empty resident room as he sat still twiddling his thumbs, was deafening. I was sure I had said too much. Every self-deprecating thought came to mind; what must he think of me? That I do nothing but whine? I am just a weak woman pretending to be smart and strong, obsessed with the way she looks.
His opinion of me mattered. His silence was now claustrophobic.
"I should go check up on Ms. Jackson." I got up from my chair, with every intention of bolting out of that room. I would have made it too, if it wasn't for his hushed voice that pulled me back.
"Do you know what the greatest pieces of art have in common?" he asked, his eyes fixed on some distant object.
"No," I replied, tilting my head in curiosity.
"They all evoke emotions. Happiness, sadness, joy, fear, excitement - love. Remarkable art has the power to delve deep into your soul, leaving a mark that lasts for eternity. And you, Madi..." he paused, finally looking up at me.
"Are no less than a masterpiece, because you leave a lasting impression on every soul you encounter."
His unwavering gaze held mine. His voice remained soft and gentle.
"I can't think of anything more beautiful than that."
The impact of his words on me felt like a raging storm, stirring up a commotion within. Throughout my life, I had been called many things, but "masterpiece" was never one of them. The notion of my name being associated with beauty seemed almost unbelievable, as if it were a mistake.
Yet, as I closed my eyes and absorbed his words, his genuine sincerity washed away my self-doubts. I knew then, what existed between us was undeniably real. In fact, this relationship felt more authentic than any I had ever experienced.
"Are you saying this just because we're friends?" I had to ask.
He smiled and gently shook his head, "No, Madi, we are not friends."
I never got to ask him what he meant by that. Both our pagers went off, Spencer White was having trouble breathing again. We ran towards his room, together this time. In the hour after that, the surgeons rushed him to the OR to drain blood from his lungs. Every hour following that Omar and I put out more fires for our existing patients, and admitted the steady stream coming up from the ER. Side by side we worked as a team: a resident who loved to teach, an intern who loved to learn.
Was there another kind of love between us, I wasn't sure. But for once I did not shun its possibility. Even convinced myself to explore it more. As the call day drew to a close, and we were preparing to part ways, I ignored my blushing cheeks and mustered the courage to invite him to my sister's wedding next month.
"And, by the way, Noor and Salman will be there too," I quickly added, hoping to make the invitation seem more casual.
A smile lit up his face as he replied, "I would love to come, Madi." My heart fluttered in response.
We didn't see each other again till the day in February 2020 when truths were unveiled. With hearts pounding and faces flushed, our lives would change forever - unfortunately, in more ways that we had ever anticipated.
*******
A lot can happen at a wedding, including the groundwork for another wedding! Get ready for a whole lot of fun, some unexpected drama, and sweet, sweet confessions.
If you remember the timeline of 2020, you'll also know that nothing good came after February. But we'll deal with that later 😉
Hope you liked this chapter.
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