Surprise Delivery(31)

“Unfortunately, it’s probably going to hurt for a while yet,” I tell him. “There was some serious damage to your leg.”

He sighs. “When will I be able to play soccer again?”

“Not until you give your leg a chance to fully heal,” I say. “The last thing you want to do, is do too much, too soon, and end up making it worse. Believe me.”

I’m not going to tell him his leg is basically being held together with baling wire, duct tape, and a whole lot of hoping and praying at the moment. There’s no need to scare the kid, but I do need him to understand the gravity of the situation. He needs to take it easy until he’s fully healed, or he risks losing it still. Which, of course, is no simple task for an otherwise healthy fifteen-year-old kid. But he’s got to do it if he wants to be able to keep playing soccer, among other normal activities.

Nizar falls silent for a moment and runs his fingertips over the cover of his comic book. He seems to be struggling with something. He’s got something on his mind, I can tell.

“What is it, Nizar?” I ask.

He looks up, an expression of the purest gratitude on his face that I’ve ever seen before. His smile is small, but genuine, though I can see the fear still hiding in his eyes. And those eyes – they don’t look like they belong in the face of a child. They are the eyes of somebody who’s seen far too much and has had to grow up far too fast.

“The nurse says if not for you, I’d only have one leg right now,” he says softly. “She said you saved my leg and my life.”

I shrug it off. “That’s just my job, Nizar.”

“Thank you, Doctor Duncan,” he says, his voice earnest and sincere. “Thank you for saving me.”

I squeeze his arm and give him a smile. “You can thank me by taking all of your meds, resting up, and letting that leg heal up completely before you start running around like a madman again.”

He laughs, and his smile grows wider. No kid should ever have to live like this. No kid should ever have to worry about going to the market and getting blown up – about losing their limbs, not to mention their lives. It’s more than just a tragedy that so many children are forced to grow up wondering if today is going to be their last day. If they’re ever going to see their friends or family again once they walk out the door.

I hate that so many are forced to endure that, but all I can do is patch them up and try to heal them when their whole world goes to shit. That’s my job. It’s what I do.

“I will, Doctor Duncan,” he insists. “I promise.”

I stand up and chuckle as I ruffle his hair. Nizar is a good kid and I’m glad I was able to help him. He deserves a shot at just being a kid.

“I’ll check in on you later,” I tell him. “I’ll see if I can round up some more comic books for you. Maybe we can get you into some Batman.”

He smiles and picks the comic book he’s reading back up, diving right back into it. I linger for a moment, just looking at him. This is why I do what I do and why I’m so passionate about it. Hope really isn’t the norm around this place but seeing it in this kid’s eyes – if only the smallest spark – makes enduring all of this absolutely worth it.





I lean back in my chair, my feet up on my desk, sipping at my glass of scotch. I have music playing from the playlist I’ve got on my phone – some soft jazz. Everything is quiet, and I don’t have a hundred people pulling at me from every direction. I enjoy these peaceful moments when I’m all alone and can just unwind. When I can just relax and let go of the day’s stresses.

A knock at the door interrupts my downtime. I sigh and grumble under my breath.

“Come in,” I call.

The door opens and Sandra steps in, a smile on her face. She’s holding a bottle of wine and two glasses and stands inside the doorway a little awkwardly.

“Duncan,” she says and holds up the wine bottle for me to see. “I thought we might have a drink.”

I give her a lopsided grin and hold up my glass of scotch. “Got one already.”

She purses her lips for a moment, but then the smile returns, and she comes in, closing the door behind her, completely unfazed. Sandra is never one to be this bold. She’s always a little more deferential – especially when she deals with me. This sudden personality switch makes me a little curious.

“Well, I guess I’m drinking solo tonight then,” she says.

“Well, you’re in my room and I’m drinking, so you’re not technically drinking alone,” I reply.

She laughs. “No, I suppose not.”

Though we’d gotten off to a bit of a rough start, I’ve come to like Sandra enormously. She’s a great nurse and I appreciate having somebody like her at the table with me. And over the course of my time here, I like to think we’ve become friends. We’ve gotten to know each other a bit over a few meals and some drinks together before – but never in my room. This is a first, and well outside the norm for her. But I just write it off to the tough day and everything being completely sideways at the moment.

She sits down on the bed, tucking her legs beneath her, then pours herself a glass of wine, setting the bottle beside the empty glass on my nightstand.

“You sure you don’t want a glass of this?” she asks. “It’s a really nice Cabernet I had sent in from France.”