"The delivery went well. Your wife is in stable condition. There should be no issues."
James stared at the obstetrician who had basically pulled him out of the room.
Through the window, his wife, Emma, held their newborn son.
The baby was tiny and frail.
His skin had a blueish tone, and appeared shiny.
Every once in a while, the baby would gasp for air, and his mother would hold him closer.
"Unfortunately, the baby was born too early."
"Too early? We know that but... I mean there he is." James pointed at his son, around whom Emma's arms were wrapped tightly.
"As my colleagues have told you, it is rare for babies born this early to survive."
"What? But... He..."
"I'm sorry, Mister James."
"You're sorry...? You mean that he's..."
"We have done what we could. Unfortunately..." A ringing noise. "...The twenty-one weeks during which the baby grew were not sufficient to help him develop properly." The ringing grew more and more intense. "We can offer Comfort Care, but we advise you to spend time with your child-"
Lightheadedness took him over. It rang and rang until his ears hurt.
"My child...? Why? What... What's the issue...?"
The female physician pressed her lips for a bit.
"Unfortunately, twenty-one weeks weren't-"
"What... Is it?"
Gulp-
She was used to delivering bad news.
But it forever will remain an unpleasant affair.
"It's his heart. His heart..."
Despite the fact that he was standing tall, James was about to lose consciousness.
The ringing in his head turned the physician's words into background noise.
"Then... What does he need...? Surgery...? Or... Something else?"
"I'm sorry, Mr James. Please spend time with your wife and child. We will be informing your wife shortly."
The words uttered weren't simply words.
They were knives.
Sharp blades went straight through his heart.
And they were now aimed at his wife's.
In a daze, the trembling man turned towards the room.
Badum-
The physician probably hoped that the husband would tell the wife. She excused herself and left. Many others needed her help after all.
Through the glass window, James could see them.
His wife and son.
Peaceful and quiet.
Badum-
With the back of her fingers, she delicately and gently brushed her baby's cheek.
The most fragile thing she had ever held or touched.
The most important thing she had ever seen.
Through the glass window, he watched.
The family he had always dreamed of.
Badum-
The family he never had.
First, a missing father.
And now...
Badum-
His heart beat so fast he felt it could explode at any moment.
His leg shook.
And without really knowing why, James ran.
He ran through the hospital's hallways as fast as he could.
Suffocating.
A minute later,
Thump-
He slammed his hands on the reception desk, startling the receptionist.
For a fraction of a second, James thought about running away. A fraction of a second, for which he would always hate himself.
"A surgeon. I need a surgeon! A heart... Heart surgeon! Quickly!"
The receptionist's lips parted.
Background noise-
He took a leap towards the other receptionist.
Background noise-
A nurse walked by.
Background noise-
A man wearing a lab coat.
Frantically, James ran from one person to the next.
Like a madman, he searched for the one who could.
The one who would.
None.
"Sorry. Protocole says-"
Three words.
The same three words again and again.
James went through numerous hallways. Numerous floors.
Background noise. Ringing. His heart beating. More background noise.
The sequence was repeated endlessly. He was drowning.
Security was called three times.
But before they could get to him, James found the one.
"You...!" He reached and grabbed the man's arm. "You're a surgeon, aren't you?"
The man turned around.
Slanted eyes.
He pulled his arm away from James' grip and stared with the kind of confidence that is often regarded as arrogance at first.
"What do you want?"
"I need..."
I need-
It always starts with what they need.
Quickly, the words flowing out of James' mouth turned into background noise.
The man turned away.
"Sorry. Protocol-"
"But you're a surgeon."
The man started walking away from the desperate James.
"I can't help you."
"It says so on your badge... You are a surgeon."
"I am."
"Then why... Why won't you help?"
"Your baby is someone else's patient. I-"
"THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M ASKING GODDAMNIT! WHY WON'T YOU HELP?"
The surgeon turned around.
The expression on James' face.
The look of a madman.
Of a desperate man.
The surgeon knew that expression well.
"Is this really how you want to spend the little time your son has on this earth?"
James clenched his teeth.
The words were sharp, and they cut deep.
The surgeon walked away.
Having just performed surgery, he was determined to enjoy, or rather, try to enjoy what little rest time he had.
The surgeon entered his office, closed the door, and lay his coat on the coat hanger next to the doors.
The next second, someone walked into the office.
"Diana. If there's anything, refer to Doctor Ane. I've just performed a six-hour surge-"
It wasn't the nurse he had expected.
But what looked like a dead man instead.
Hollow and desperate.
"Why won't you help...? You're the only one who can."
The surgeon sighed as he massaged his eyes.
Instantly, the pages of a book were flipped inside his mind.
A book full of prepared phrases and pre-made responses.
Protocol.
"You are not my patient, so I cannot give or administer proper treatment. I trust my colleague's diagnosis. If they say that there's-"
"If they say... What? Why won't you understand?"
"I understand very well. I empathize with you. I truly do. But-"
Grab-
Pull-
"You will regret this." The surgeon warned as he was pulled closer.
James tightened his grip over the surgeon's clothes.
"Early... Premature... My son wants to live dammit. Why don't you all understand?"
"At twenty weeks, he can barely be referred to as-"
The surgeon's words were interrupted by the delirious man's forehead as it collided with his.
"He's coming early. That's how much he wants to be with us. You didn't see him gasping for air while his mother held him. He's fighting! That's how much he-"
Blugh-
The man fell to the ground after a clenched fist hit his side.
James' words, too, were knives.
"He wants to live? About twenty weeks, right? Then..."
With eyes that were oh so cold, the surgeon stared from above.
"What about my daughter?"
For the first time in a while, James heard words and not background noise.
The surgeon in front of him wasn't like the others anymore.
"Are you saying that she didn't want to live?"
He wasn't a robot, part of a well-crafted unbending system anymore.
The surgeon now stood as an individual.
He was the one who could.
But would he?
