The Casuality

A Story Of Loss From A Young Mind

Casualty. Noun. A person killed or injured in a war or accident. Synonyms : victim, fatality, loss.

I was 8 years old when I heard this word for the first time. But it took me 12 years to truly process what it meant.

I had just turned 20, it was my birthday, but unlike others my age I wasn't outside partying or treating my friends to fancy dinners (mostly McDonald's because that is what the average student in my college could afford). I was at the hospital, the very same hospital where I now work almost 25 years later, waiting for the doctors to let me into the operation room. I paced outside the door anxiously waiting for someone to come outside and tell me the only thing I wanted to hear, "There is nothing to worry about, your mother is out of danger."

After what felt like eternity someone came out of the double doors. 'Dr. Patrick' read the little badge clumsily stuck to his scrubs.
I stood infront of him too scared to breathe. I could tell from the look on his face that the worst thing I imagined had already happened.

"Your mother suffered 3 gun shots, one to the chest and 2 to the abdomen. We tried our hardest but unfortunately we couldn't save her. I'm so sorry for your loss."

It was at this moment that I felt true heartbreak. I felt my body slip to the floor while I leaned on one of the walls and cried my heart out.
At one point I felt light headed, a few nurses nearby saw me blacking out and came to my rescue.

"What happened?" I heard one of the nurse whisper to another.
"Her mother... Dr. Murthy... GSW casualty" were the last words I heard as I blacked out completely, silence surrounded me, except for one word that kept on repeating.

Casualty. Casualty. CASUALTY.

I was 8, it was a rainy night, mom had put me to bed almost an hour ago, but it took me some time to fall asleep. Just as I was falling into deep slumber mom shook me awake.

"Babba get up please."

"What happened mommy?" Sleepy little me asked.

"There's a casualty at the hospital and I need to get there. We don't have time to get you to grandma and grandpa's house so you'll have to come with me. You can sit in my office and read or play, okay? Now please get up and wear your jacket." Mom said almost in one breath. She looked tired, her brown hair flying around everywhere, bags under her eyes. She always looked tired.

"What's the meaning of casualty?" I asked as I rubbed my eyes.

"It means someone who has come to the hospital that really needs mommy's help."

"My mommy is a surgeon!" I used to tell everyone very proudly, I didn't exactly know what surgeon meant or how to even spell it, all I knew was she was a doctor and she saved lives, even if she had to go to the hospital at the most odd hours.

We lived in a small town where there weren't many doctors but too many accidents and crimes.

"Patient is a male, late 20s to mid 30s. GSW, 4 to the abdomen and 3 to the arms. Heartbeat's going down, get here fast!" Someone was briefing mom on the way.

"On my way." Mom said as she pressed down the accelerator.

"Mommy, what's GSW?" my ever curious mind asked.

"Gun shot wound. It's when someone gets shot by a gun and mommy needs to save them." She explained lovingly through her tired eyes, just like she had always done.

We pulled into the small parking lot and rushed to mom's office. She led me to a chair and handed me a book, "Sit here and read this till mommy comes back, and don't go out of this room." She kissed my forehead and rushed out.