Unedited.
Abuja, Nigeria.
Amna and Aslam rushed into the waiting area of the hospital. Amna clutching her jilbaab tightly to prevent her from tripping as she walked really fast, her grip on Aslam's hand also tight.
As they entered the waiting area, they were greeted by somber faces and anxious murmurs. Khalthum's dad sat with a stoic expression, one of his hands gripping the armrest of the chair and the other pulling the beads of a rosary, continuously chanting prayers.
Hafsah, Khalthum's only sister, paced nervously, her eyes red-rimmed from tears. Usman, Hafsah's husband stood by the side, leaning on the wall, his brow furrowed in concern. Fuad, paced back and forth too, his eyes red, worry lines etched on his forehead.
Amna's heart sank to her stomach. She hurried over to Hafsah, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. "Hafsahhh." Amna sobbed.
"Addu'a zakuyi- You should all pray" Khalthum's dad spoke.
Aslam shook Fuad's hand who met him halfway then Usman before squatting to greet her father.
They exchanged pleasantries and prayers in grim tones.
"How is she? Have you heard anything?" Aslam asked Fuad when he stood next to him.
"Not yet. We're waiting." Fuad replied.
Amna turned to Khalthum's father, offering him a gentle smile despite the heaviness in her heart. "Abba," she squatted respectfully, "Ina Kwana -good morning"
Alhaji Ahmed looked up, his eyes weary "Amna," he said quietly. "Please, just pray for her, Allah ya tashi kafadan ta- may Allah grant her quick recovery"
Everyone answered "Amin."
.
.
.
The waiting area seemed to hold its breath as they all sat together. Alhaji Ahmed was unmoving except for the rosary in his right hand and the constant deep breaths he took.
Hafsah had a bunch of tissues clutched in her hand, wiping her tears and snot while Amna continuously shook her legs, looking at empty space but occasionally wiping tears that rolled down her cheeks with the tissue Hafsah passed to her. Her lips kept moving, saying each and every prayer that came to her mind.
Time stretched on, each passing minute feeling like an eternity until finally, the door to the waiting area swung open, and Dr. Patel stepped in.
He was the attending neurosurgeon tasked with operating on Khalthum.
"Thank you all for waiting patiently," Dr. Patel began in an Indian accent yet eloquently, his expression somber yet composed. "I want to update you all on Ms. Ahmed's condition and what happened during surgery."
Hafsah cried even harder as she looked up at Dr. Patel. "Please, tell us how she's doing," she managed to say between sobs.
He paused briefly, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "As you know, she suffered some bleeding inside her brain tissue due to the trauma from the accident. When she arrived, our immediate priority was to stabilize her, ensuring her heart was beating and she was receiving enough oxygen to her brain."
"We performed a CT scan which revealed a significant hematoma, or blood clot, in a critical area of her brain. Based on the scan, we determined that surgery was necessary to relieve the pressure and stop the bleeding," Dr. Patel explained, his tone measured yet compassionate.
"After obtaining your consent, we proceeded with the operation," He continued. "But during the procedure, we encountered complications."
Dr. Patel's gaze shifted among them, gauging their reactions as he proceeded. Hafsah was visibly distraught, tears streaming down her face.
