Faith like surgeries

His favourite colour had always been blue. Not because it was depressing or anything -it wasn't- but because it seemed to soak in the light, and then give some of it back. "Like black," he said to me once, "but less dead, less drab." Lucky for him our scrubs are blue. He said it was a sign from God. "There's a reason for everything so I believe that there's a reason my colour is blue. Blue shows I'm in the right place." Those were his words. All the days I had known him in civilian garb, he never presented himself to the world without a blue item plastered to his skin. Some called him Dr Blue. To me he was Dr K.M, Dr Kellerman. More of a brother than a work partner or colleague. 

I went back to surgery because of him and if it was for not for him, I would still be turning down surgeries. He called me a magnet because I always attracted the best surgeries during our surgical rotation. Then we started scrubbing in together. Unlike other interns, we never fought for the best cases; we shared the best cases together and that's how I do my stitches the efficient way. I learnt a lot from him but he claimed he learnt more from me. 

I lost my first patient the same day he lost his. Call it the disadvantage of sharing, but we had each other. Tissues littered the on-call room by the end of shift and both our eyes were drained. He still managed to crack a joke. "I didn't know computers shed tears too." He called me gifted. That's how we picked ourselves from the floor...

Part of my words from the funeral come back to me one by one. The meteorologists claimed, at the most, it'd go up to eighty-five degrees but I'm feeling a ninety- degree heat wave in the outskirts of Midwoods. The air is stagnant and the trees are statues, not even a rustling of a leaf. 

Mid Park is just as I remembered it. Despite the area not getting enough rains, the grass is very green and no soil patches can be seen. Swing sets and slides are everywhere and on them children with smiles on their faces looking happy. Benches and picnic spots define the park. Parents are out relaxing, taking a breather before the start of the new week ahead. Occupants of some benches are nose deep in a novel, in the world created by the author. The concrete pavements were not there before and cyclists are putting it to full use. Birds are chirping away, happily.

I guess fifteen years was not enough to keep me away from the area. Away from the memories of mourning, as a teenager, the woman who carried me for nine good months. Now I stand in the same position I was before, sitting on that bench overlooking the pond under the tree with beautiful purple flowers, reliving how KM died in my arms. 

We were working the night shift when the call came in. Large indefinite number of people injured in a building in flames not too far from St Andrew Memorial. The emergency room was starting to fill up and at the scene, paramedics were short-handed. We both liked to drive into the thick of things especially when it came to saving lives. It only took one look passing between us and that's how we found ourselves at the site. Triage was the least of our worries when we heard about a pregnant woman stuck on the third floor. We got to her before anyone could and she was in bad shape. We had to get her out. From outside everyone was shouting for us to get out. It was on the first floor that we lost our balance when KM suddenly forced forward and fell down. 

"Get her out," he said in pain. I didn't see it. I didn't see it until I looked closely at where he had his hands on his chest, just below his heart. There in the partially lit room, the metal lodged shone in my face. Fire team saw us and rushed to get us out. 

I keep telling myself that he died doing what he loved. He loved being in the action of things. You'd think he spent some time as a military doctor. I know where he is now, he doesn't hold a single grudge because that's just how he is. He doesn't hold on to the past and I feel him saying that we need not hold on too long... 

The cool breeze hitting against my skin jolts me from my trip down memory lane. The ball of heat, I see now, is covered in dark gray clouds. The wind picks up slightly giving the leaves a wake up call. Around me parents are getting their children off the swings and slides, some packing up their picnic baskets. I get up from the bench and slowly walk to the pond I had been staring at. Small ripples form in the once still water. The wind whispers in my ear Don't do what you did years before. Don't close up. The moment the words reach my heart, I'm sure it's KM talking to me. He was the kind who would say don't worry when a building is about to collapse on you. A man of faith.

Remember me with surgeries. That hits me more. Remember him with surgeries. He's telling me to not let go of my work like I did years before but he's also requesting I continue to shine.

He was a man of honour, courage and faith. I will not be the judge of whether he lived his life to the fullest, but I know where he is now, he is smiling. He had a very beautiful smile. Let us meet him halfway and take a moment to smile while remembering how much of an impact he had on us. He left a footprint. A huge one. Let us not let him down... 

Keys dangling from my hands, I make it to my car leaving behind, once again, Mid Park.