Operation: Dard and Devotion

35 | Broken & Bereaved

It took a few days for the American soldiers to confirm my identity. People had bustled in and out of the unkempt cell I was in to interrogate and to take photos of me. The entire ordeal made me uncomfortable, especially when the soldiers had brought in a male doctor to give me a physical examination.

"I honestly don't mean to seem disrespectful, but may I have a female doctor instead?" I gave the soldiers and the doctor a pleading look.

"This is the only doctor we have on site," said a soldier.

"Or perhaps a female nurse?" I gulped and tried not to give up. "Please? I really don't...feel comfortable."

One of the soldiers opened his mouth to argue, but the doctor held up his hand.

"We do have a female nurse here," the doctor admitted. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties. "She can conduct the physical examination, but I still must be in the room to record the results because the U.S. government will only accept documents from authorized medical personnel in the case of hostages and such. Do you understand?"

I sat up straight and relaxed slightly. It wasn't the best alternative, but at least I did not have to have a man touch me. "Yes, I do."

The doctor nodded. "Go and get Stacy," he instructed the nearest soldier.

A few moments later, Stacy entered, dragging a portable cart that was filled with medical supplies. She wore camouflage pants, like the doctor, as American soldiers normally wore, with a black t-shirt. She seemed fairly young, perhaps a few years older than I was, and she had her blonde hair wrapped tightly in a bun at the back of her head. A badge was pinned over her heart with the inscription, Stacy Callahan, Military Nurse.

The doctor, whose badge read David Hudson, MD, proceeded to put on a surgical mask and gloves, and the nurse followed suit with the exception of the gloves. The doctor respectfully stood at the door to make sure nobody would be able to enter. Stacy began to take my vitals by inserting a digital thermometer into my mouth.

"Temperature, 97.8⁰ F," she told Dr. Hudson, who quickly scrawled the value on his clipboard. Stacy strapped the blood pressure cuff on my left upper arm and read the numbers to the doctor. Once all the vitals had been administered, she stepped in front of me.

"Hun, do you have something underneath your abaya?" She asked me and I nodded. "Good. Can you remove it?"

I obeyed, mentally grateful that Ahsan had given me a jilbaab some time back. As I removed my veil and pulled the abaya over my head, a strange scent wafted around me.

Only then did it occur to me that I had been shower-deprived for quite some time.

"I stink, don't I?" I asked sheepishly, fully aware that my face was reddening. The doctor smirked and Stacy chuckled.

"You'd be surprised how often we deal with these cases. No worries," Stacy said with a small smile in an attempt to make me feel comfortable. Gently, she placed her thumbs under my eyes and pulled down my lower eyelids. "You haven't been getting much sleep, huh? Your eyes are a bit bloodshot."

Then Stacy slid her thumbs below my jaw and paused, applying pressure to the area. She scrunched up her face and asked me, "Does it hurt when I press here?"

"A little," I admitted. "It feels a bit hard."

"Yes, it does." She looked over her shoulder. "Swollen lymph nodes?"

Dr. Hudson strode over to us, putting his clipboard on the table beside us. "May I?" He asked me. I nodded. He placed his fingers under my jaw as Stacy had done and pressed parts of my neck. "I agree, Stacy."