Life

Flatlines. Screaming. Pain. Eventually, death. The hospital was full of patients. Some dead, some on the verge of death. In front of me was a young boy. He looked around 12 years old. There were several bruises on his forehead and arms. His leg had a sharp piece of metal sticking out of it. I winced. Several doctors were around me, also looking at the boy. We were all new and had never operated on a patient before. From the look of their faces, I could tell they have given up.

"There's no use," exclaimed Alex, one of the doctors.

"This is too much for me. I can't take it anymore," replied Angela. She headed out of the room.

"I don't want to see anyone die," I said. I looked at the clock. 1 hour until the New Year.

I had never really wanted to become a doctor. The sight of blood always haunts me. My mom has always told me this, 'Being a doctor isn't a burden; it's a gift. God can't heal people, so he sent us to save lives.' I have heard this many times throughout my life. The more I thought about this, the more I wanted to become a doctor. This statement has changed my life. Forever.

I found myself studying medicine and biology in school. I was fascinated by the anatomy of living beings. I remember once when we were dissecting a frog, about 3 people threw up; all on the floor. Every time I walked home from school, I was taunted by kids calling me nerd and geek. I didn't mind nor care. I only wanted to focus on my studies. I excelled in exams and tests. Many scholarships were given to me and I was able to study in the best colleges. I felt determined. I applied for many hospitals and managed to get a job at one. 

The hospital I got a job at was near where I lived. I wanted to spend some time at home for a while, so I didn't go to work that day. It was a few hours before the New Year, so I put on the Times Square Ball Drop on my TV. Crowds were gathered around the area, but I decided not to go. When I was younger, around 6 years old, my parents took me to the ball drop. I got lost in the scene and accidentally thought the person next to my parents was my Dad. I held the stranger's hand and hugged his feet tightly. When I looked up to see my 'Dad', my eyes widened. I quickly ran away from him and managed to get to my parents. I looked back at him one more time and saw the stranger wink at me. I quickly smiled back and hid from his view. That incident has prohibited me from entering that place during the New Year. I only went there if something new was going to happen.

While watching TV, a sudden boom was heard, followed by the house shaking. I got up from the couch, startled. I had no idea what was going on. I ran outside and found a couple of other neighbors on their porch, looking around the street. I examined the house and saw that no damage was made. I also talked with a few of my neighbors. They also heard the boom. I quickly went inside and changed the channel to the local news. The reporter was talking about a large explosion a few streets away, which was caused by a gas pipe leak. The next scene showed the hospital flooded with patients; some looking not dead, barely dead, quite dead, and very dead. As a doctor, the pain looked scary to me. As I was looking at the TV, my phone started to ring. I picked it up.

"Hello," I asked.

"Yes. We are asking you to please come to the hospital. A recent explosion on Rockingham Boulevard caused a surge of patients to arrive at our center. Again, we please ask you to help out," replied the person on the other end.

And with that, the call disconnected.

I rushed into my car and sped off toward the hospital. Traffic was slow. There were many ambulances and lots of other cars, which I guess are the patients' family members. I arrived at the hospital in distress. I never thought that my first day of work would be a big one. I went to the reception and showed my ID badge to her. After taking a quick inspection, she looked down at a piece of paper held by a clipboard. She then scanned the board to find my name. After finding it, she told me the room number I was supposed to head to. I bounded across the hallway. All around me were weeping families and patients in bed. After a few minutes of searching, I finally found the room. I opened the door to find several other doctors inside and a boy. He had bruises everywhere, and a sharp piece of metal sticking out of his leg.

It was just me, Alex, and Sam - another doctor - remaining in the room, along with the boy. We tried all we could but never could fix the bruises nor the metal piece. I turned around to Sam.

"How much longer do we have left," I asked.

"He might be gone by midnight," he replied.

I felt hopeless. All the efforts we did produce only one result: Failure. We didn't want to take the agony of the treatment anymore, so we stopped. There was no use anymore. My friends wanted to stick with the boy, wanting him to get up again. I decided to head to my parent's house, which was not too far from the hospital. There wasn't any traffic this time, so it was an easy ride. My Mom was resting on the couch; playing a game of Sudoku. I walked over and sat next to her. She looked at me with a smile and always filled my heart with joy when I was younger.

"What happened Cody," she asked?

"I-- I was in the hosp--pital. There was a g-- gas leak on a nearby s-- street. I had to o-- operate on a b-- boy. We couldn't do i-- it. I gave u--up," I stuttered.

She looked at me with a smile.

"Remember what I told you. Being a doctor is a gift. It is normal for people to not be able to save lives. Even God can't make humans live forever," she explained.

My younger self would have believed those sayings, but right now, it felt inspirational. I thought about my flashback for a second. Doing good in tests, getting many scholarships, studying in amazing colleges. I then thought about what I was doing now. Giving up on a child's life.

"The boy's life is in your hands. You can decide what to do with him. Let him die, or save his life. He won't be the only one in pain, but his family members and relatives would also be in great affliction," she said.

Mom then hugged me and said that I need to decide fast. I looked at the clock. 30 minutes until midnight. Without hesitation, my decision was in my head. I raced to the hospital in my car and headed to the room. 

I saw Alex and Sam slouching on the door, with their hands on their heads. They didn't have any luck. I rushed into the room and looked at the boy. I quickly put him in an available operating room. I managed to stitch the bruises on his forehead as fast as I could. I looked at the clock once more. 10 minutes left. I got the tools needed to fix the boy's leg. With painstaking steps, I managed to get the metal out of the boy. A few moments later, I heard the sound no doctor wanted to hear. A flat line. I looked at the heart rate monitoring system. A flat line. I quickly looked at the clock. 1 minute left. I ran to get the electric shock equipment. I rubbed the two irons together and pumped it on the boy's chest. Nothing. 45 seconds left. I did it again. 30 seconds left. Tears were streaming down my face. My nerves were tightening. My brain was bursting with pain. I tried one more time. Nothing. 20 seconds left. Once more. 10 seconds. I rubbed it with more force. 9 seconds. Wiping my tears away. 8 seconds. Rubbed them one more time. 7 seconds. Pumped it against his chest. 6 seconds. Yelling in agony. 5 seconds. Rubbed them again. 4 seconds. Wiping my tears. 3 seconds. Pumping it on his chest. 2 seconds. Hearing the sound every doctor wants to hear. A pulse. 1 second. With joy and a smiling face, I sprawled myself on the floor as I wiped my happy tears. The second the clock struck midnight, 3 words were heard.

Happy New Year