It’s about to be a year since I was first stationed in this village, I was a mere bright-eyed surgeon fresh out of residency. Despite my eagerness to be of service to the Capital, I had been transferred barely a year in. The travesty of this transfer left my mind no space to process the news of territorial conflict.
I was foolish to think that I would be needed now more than ever. After all, the first line of defense was at the Capital, and those are the people you needed to keep alive the most.
Had I really failed to prove myself as a surgeon worthy of a Capital position? In a different time, I would have assumed that this was merely a trial, a test to prove my grit, but now is a time like no other. No higher-up is keeping tabs on some nobody yet to prove themselves. Which meant I had to blaze my own tracks.
I could admit that I had grown complacent, hopeful, that the supplies would keep coming–perhaps the right term would be ignorant. Wars happen all the time but has it ever been this bad? I try to push the negative thoughts that plague my daily routine as I apprehensively knocked at the Douglas residence.
“Comin’!” Martha’s voice rang out from the humble shack, her voice dripped with the same jovial pep that painted her modest features. Her voice masked the increasing worry given away by the change in her physical disposition.
When I first met her, her ginger curls bounced to the tune of her step, now it sagged lifelessly in a precarious ponytail. She used to be on the chubbier side, a sign of a well-loved housewife–but now her face is starting to look more and more taut: subtly so.
”Doctor Cohan! Oh, what a nice surprise for you to come by!” Martha greets me with a big smile and a tight hug as she usually does. The first few times, I was worried she’d bend my elbows out of place. The warmth of the Douglas home greets me like a friendly embrace. The smell of Martha’s stew pulling me in by my stomach.
”Did Mr. Douglas not mention I was dropping by?” I asked.
”Oh, my dear, he’s been having lapses in memory lately. He went straight to the field today, but don’t worry he should be back soon. Why don’t I get’cha started with a bowl, honey?” She offered, though she’s not really one to wait for an answer and just served me the bowl right away.
A bowl of translucent yellow liquid greeted me on the table, devoid of any fillings one would assume to exist in a stew. Last time I visited, it had at least two different things. My heart pricked in silent despair–the village I have misplaced my disdain towards has deteriorated for the worse in the past year.
”I know it’s not much but—“ She started.
I cut her off as I reached for her hand over the table. ”It is more than enough, you do not have to welcome me in your home but you do anyway. If there is ever anything I could be of assistance for in your family, please let me know.”
“Doctor, please, you’ve provided us with so much aid since you came, we don’t know how we could ever repay you.”
”There is no need.” I assured her. But a part of me was hiding behind a farce of optimism.
If I was being honest, there really was no need for them to repay me. At the end of the day, I was the one hiding away a storage full of rations in my makeshift clinic. Not by my own accord, but because the Commander had generously padlocked the room as soon as he noticed my inclination to give supplies away: his words, not mine.
With the sincerest smile I could muster, I feigned delight as the spoon of liquid entered my mouth. Bland. Unexciting. All words that could describe this village and how my life has been doing so far. Guilt eats away at me as I know it is not the villagefolk’s fault.
“I hope it’s quite filling, at least.” Martha winces but before I could lie, the door burst open and reveals a frazzled Crawley struggling to support Mr. Douglas on his back.
“D-dad–he just collapsed. I-I don’t know what happened.” Crawley could barely piece together a sentence with his labored breathing. I jumped to my feet to help him set Mr. Douglas down.
I surveyed his pulse and checked his breathing, both faint but their mere existence bodes well. I barely put my hand on the old man but I could feel the radiating heat emanating off him.
“Was he acting unusual before he collapsed?” I asked.
“N-no not that I noticed.” Crawley answered.
I turned my attention towards Martha. “What about the past few days? Any behavior out of the ordinary?”
“W-well all I know is about his back pain but–”
“Was he ill at all?” I pressed on, my eyebrows furrowing in distress as Mr. Douglas still struggled to muster a breath.
“It di’n’t seem like it.” Martha shakes her head, tearful.
What did I miss? The first time he came to me, all he discussed were his growing chronic fatigue and back pain. Both I equated to old age and a lifestyle of manual labor–it made perfect sense. Is this faint spell connected to those symptoms or is this a completely different thing? Over-fatigue? But a fever this high could not simply just be due to over-fatigue.
I must be missing something. “When did he start getting exhausted more often?”
“Well he’s always spent after a day in the field, he’d have dinner with us then drink the night away.” Martha recounts.
Crawley, the poor boy, tried to gather himself as best he could, “I-I did notice that, there are days when he would take more breaks in the field. Would rest for longer every now ‘n’ then.”
There is no way every single symptom has no correlation to each other, I just need to keep seeing the bigger picture: over-fatigue, chronic pain, high fever–and weight loss. I took a sharp breath as every piece slowly fell into place. I was an inadequate doctor that waved all his pains as a symptom of his environment. A variety of symptoms that could easily be placed on the natural occurrence of life.
Not once have I ever considered the reality of the more damning diagnosis. “I have reason to suspect your husband has cancer in the blood.” It pained me to meet Martha’s eyes.
“W-will it kill him?” Her breath shaky, words barely spoken past her sobs.
“It is fatal, yes.” Honesty, albeit brutal, is the best thing I could give them right now. Knowing the truth brings comfort sometimes.
“But h-how could it be? He was completely alright yest’rday!” She exclaimed.
I summon a deep breath. “The medicine I have been giving him eased some of his symptoms–and completely suppressed them for me to have noticed.”
“So if he wasn’t feeling better, you woulda’ figured out what was wrong?” Crawley pieced together.
“The symptoms all together would have opened up the possibility, yes.” I admit. Even without the fever, if I had not assumed his weight loss was merely due to the scarcity, perhaps I would have been able to figure it out. It was my inadequacy as a practitioner that led to this.
“I can save him.” I uttered before my mind could further spiral. The single thought able to ground me in the moment is the fact that this was a diagnosis that I have studied with Doctor Molloy–perhaps there was truly a reason fate brought me here.
“Y-you can?” Martha perked up, and I scramble at my impulse statement.
“Yes! W-well, it’s not something I could do here. I would need to bring him to the Capital.” That was the simplest explanation I could muster–going through a tangential speech regarding this rare disease would not have been helpful in this situation.
“That’s the catch.” Crawley comments.
Martha went quiet for a moment, trying to calm herself. “Would he make it?”
Would he? His symptoms started creeping up on him once we started weaning off the medication, all due to the Commander’s orders. I pat through his pockets and find the unopened packet of pills. If there was ever a defining decision I have encountered in my career, it would definitely be this one.
“If I use the rest of the medicine on him, I could get him to stay in stable condition until we get to the nearest clinic.” I would also be actively choosing to prioritize one life over others.
“Are you sure?” Martha asked.
There is no correct answer. But there is one thing I am for certain: this is a decision that I have to make now. By taking the rest of the medicine, I would be guaranteeing Mr. Douglas’ life, but endangering the life of others who might need it down the line.
I could argue possibilities all day but the reality is that I would forever regret it if I go back on my word. Because the certainty of one life is more important to me than waiting to see what the future may bring. “I am confident I can help him.” I finally answered.
“I’ll come with.” Crawley offered.
I shook my head, “It would be faster on one horse, and it is the only way the Commander would let me make the trip–if I take with me as little as I can.” The Commander would never let me leave, the only way I could make it is if I could sneak out with one horse.
“But I heard there’s been trouble goin’ on at the Capital lately, is it even safe to go there?” Martha voiced out the one concern I wish she forgot.
“I am well-connected with a lot of doctors in the Capital. If it had been unsafe to go, surely they would have warned me long ago.” I hold her hand in comfort. “Please, let me help you.” My eyes pleaded alongside my words.
“Momma, I ain’t ready to lose Papa just yet.” Crawley pleaded despite his initial wariness.
“Would the medicine work on him now?” Martha asked.
“Only to settle the fever down.” I answered.
“I want you to give him the medicine.” Martha looked at me with anxious eyes. “I want him to wake up and make the decision. If he ain’t dead yet then he’s still the man of the house.”
Crawley’s shoulders sagged in relief. Perhaps he knew it was his mother’s way of silently agreeing. With their help, we sat up Mr. Douglas so we could administer the medicine. We continued to spend the entire day monitoring his condition, waiting for him to come off the fever and wake up. I recognize, now, what destiny brought me here for. This whole time I thought I was meant to swim with the big fish, but this transfer made me realize a possible future in advocacy.