The phone had been ringing off the hook for five minutes but Boitumelo hadn't heard it. The two sleeping tablets she had took had knocked her out for the night.
Eventually the loud ringing of her Samsung smartphone managed to get her out of her deep slumber. Fumbling for her phone on the nightstand she eventually managed to get hold of it.
Bloody Themba forgot his keys again! That was the her thought as she picked up the phone, little did she know that she couldn't have been any further from the truth.
With the display light blinding her, not checking the caller id, she managed to answer the phone before the call was disconnected.
"Hello" she answered with her voice sounding groggy from all that sleep.
"Is this Ms. Boitumelo Letsatsi?" a feminine voice on the other end asked. The person spoke in a calm smooth tone, sounding like they had practiced the very same line until they perfected it.
That voice definitely was not Themba's. The thought immediately made her wide awake, checking the caller id she frowned, realising that it was indeed not Themba calling her. The call was from an office number that didn't belong to Themba's office.
Who could be calling her at three am?
"Yes," a bit hesitant, she answered. She had heard a fair share of stories about people being murdered because they answered weird phone calls in the middle of the night.
"This is nurse Moja from Mash hospital" the caller paused, "I am calling to inform you that Mr Themba Ndlovhu has been admitted into our care."
Hospital? Why were hospital people calling her? At three am for that matter. "Wait! Did you say Themba? What happened? Is he okay?" all those questions were rushed as she tried to make sense of the situation.
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been suddenly poured over her and she was wide awake. She pushed off the covers and stumbled out of bed with the phone in hand and headed towards the wardrobe.
"The doctors are still busy with him ma'am, he was brought in by the paramedics after he was involved in an car accident." the nurse answered in the same tone.
"I'll be there." she said in a firm tone, that was final, and disconnected the call.
She traded her old pyjamas for cotton tracksuits and put on one of her late grandmother's doeks to cover her dreadlocks that were all over the place. She quickly took her purse, phone and keys.
Ten minutes later she was already in her black 2008 Toyota Yaris and on her way to the hospital. The roads were deserted in the early hours of Friday and she managed to reach the hospital in under an hour.
She was hit by the sudden smell of the hospital - that distinct smell of antiseptic that gives you the creeps and makes you think of death - as soon as she entered the ER. She rushed to the reception to speak to the lady at the front desk.
"Hi, I'm Boitumelo, I'm here for my husband." she said in a rushed tone. The lady continued to stare at her blankly, prompting her to go on. "he was brought in from an accident, Themba Ndlovu,"
"Oh" the lady spoke in recognition, "The doctors have been working on him for a while now." She moved to grab some papers from the shelves behind her then gave them to Boitumelo.
"Please fill out those forms for me, we need some of his information. Here's a pen, you may sit in the waiting area" the lady said as she gestured towards the row of silver metal chairs lined against the wall.
Filling out paperwork when your husband is lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life, was definitely was not a task Boitumelo imagined doing on a Friday morning at 4:07.
The paperwork itself took nearly an hour of her time, as she couldn't think straight. Her mind was focused solely on Themba's survival, coming up with many different 'what if' scenarios.
After what felt like an eternity of answering questions that felt like they were for an exam, she was done sorting out Themba's admission. She also had to sign many other forms in order to receive the clothes Themba's was wearing and other personal belongings
It was already way past 6am when the doctor came to speak to her. Clad in light blue scrubs and long hair tied messily in a ponytail, the doctor approached her with tiny beads of sweat covering her forehead.
"Mrs Ndlovu?" the doctor asked extending her hand for a shake. "Boitumelo" she answered in a clipped tone as she shook the doctor's hand."I'm doctor Green, the surgeon."
"We have managed to stop the bleeding and stabilise your husband. He suffered severe head trauma from the collision, but we have managed to reduce the swelling. The CAT scans don't show any signs of any internal bleeding or swelling on the brain. We will some run more tests once he is awake. He has three bruised ribs and a fractured knee although he has a few scratches, we have managed to stitch up his major cuts."
"He is out of it and will be for a while, he would most likely go into a coma as a result of the severe head trauma. I'd advise you to go home and get some sleep. You can't do anything for him, so go get some rest for now, you'll visit him later."
Checking the time she realised that it was almost time to leave for work, but she wasn't feeling up to going there. Giving the doctor a weak nod she took the refuse plastic bag with Themba's clothes and headed to her car.
As soon as she sat in the driver seat and closed the car door, she called her workplace to inform her boss that she wouldn't be going in for work. What a way to put an end to an eventful week. She thought as she let out a heavy sigh.
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*doek - head wrap.
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~Bee♡
YOU ARE READING
Surviving ||On Hold
General Fiction"Ina lebe seromo." This is a Setswana proverb that means: you are your name. Your name is your destiny, it is who you become, and it is you. Batswana, like most if not all Africans, understand that your name defines your fate. That your name shape...
