"Time of death, 9:45pm"
She was aching.
Her body was aching from a 36hour shift. Her mind was aching from a failed surgery. Her heart was aching from a dead patient.
She had killed her.
The sudden urge to cry overwhelmed her and her knees became wobbly. Her emotions were suffocating her and breathing was increasingly becoming difficult. She took large gulps of air in hopes of controlling and calming herself but failed. That's what she was.
A failure.
Her first lead surgery and she couldn't even get it right. A simple surgery at that.
She whimpered. Wanted to wail but instead settled for sobs and soft moans. She wouldn't disgrace herself any further.
"Never get too attached," she remembered being told. "Never let your emotions get the better of you."
There was a reason why the best doctors at Plus Hospital were sometimes considered heartless. They thought with their minds, not hearts.
Just like it was supposed to be.
She removed her coat and went to get some fresh air. She never minded the hospital smell but right then she thought it was the most foul smell. It made her insides to coil in disgust and gave her a sudden urge to puke. Passing by the waiting room, which she thought was both a sad and hopeful place, she saw her children waiting patiently and clinging onto each other while mumbling some things. Probably prayers, and her heart ached even more for them.
Seeing the brother and sister, she assumed, being so hopeful and waiting for their mothers recovery gave her a sense of déjàvu. The memories of that fateful day crossed her mind briefly and she discarded it immediately.
She passed the waiting room quickly and went out. Inhaled and exhaled repeatedly until her heart resumed its steady rhythm.
'Its not your fault', the little inner voice that she mostly disregarded whispered ever so softly. Almost like a mothers whisper. Or was it touch?
'Shit happens', that voice again, only this time, it sounded like Tash's voice. And her blunt self.
She listened, for the few times that she did, to that little inner voice of hers. It wasn't her fault. That she was sure of. Shit happens. That was also true. Then why was she overreacting?
'You know why!' The voice spoke again. With Kendy's logical self this time.
She couldn't let her mind wander to the direction it wanted to go. She refused to answer the why question.
With a new mindset, the one that refused to remember sad memories, the one that shut down her past, she went back to the waiting room. As much as she hated this part, she had to tell the siblings the news. As much as it was hard.
"I'm sorry..." Sheenah began softly and it was all the siblings needed to hear for them to break down. Those two words could turn your whole world around. For the worst that is.
And Sheenah thought again how the waiting room could be both a sad and hopeful place. Before the 'i'm sorry' words, the siblings had hope. Hope that their mother would be better. Hope that there was hope for her recovery, even when the chances were so tiny. And then all that were crushed in front of them by two words.
I'm sorry.
How she hated those words in that moment.
Those two words dimmed any signs of hope one could have. They made the waiting room a sad place. They caused a rapid change to people's live.
YOU ARE READING
Stereotypes
General Fiction"Free yourself." To some she was just a pretty doctor. To others she was a young successful woman who life had been good to. To few she was a broken soul that was trying to pick up her broken pieces. There was always an idea of what Sheenah was, or...
