The Rusted Scalpel

by Timothy Browne

  Wright was everything a woman could ever want in a man, yet there seemed to be a missing piece. She would occasionally see a glimpse of it. What was it? She tried to catch it in her mind, but then she would think about him and see his smooth muscular chest under his linen shirt, and the thought of any shortcomings would disappear.

  It was as though every part of her was loving his company, except maybe the most important part of all, her heart. I don’t get it.

  “Oh God, help me…Papa, help me.”

  Her head fell against the bedspread, her hands folded in prayer. God would speak to her. “Lord you are my deliverer, my rescuer and comforter. You say that You reach down from on high and take hold of me, and You draw me out of deep waters.”

  Maggie trusted His faithfulness. Yes, she had endured many things in her life—the painful experiences of her teenage years; the blood, sweat and tears of building a ministry; and of course, John’s death, her one true love ripped from her. But God was always with her, walking with her, talking with her, guiding her. She didn’t know how people without faith could possibly manage, how they could make it through a single day without hearing His voice.

  “Papa, even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me,” she prayed from the book of Psalms.

  She sat back on her heels and lifted her hands to Him. “Speak to me, Papa, through your Holy Spirit.”

  She quieted her heart and her mind as much as she could. She knew the Father of heaven would help her, would give her a word in her heart or a nudge in her mind. She took a deep breath and waited.

  There was nothing.

  CHAPTER 39

  A TURN FOR THE WORSE

  Ugh. It still felt like the middle of the night for Maggie as Grand Rounds started promptly at five thirty in the morning. She seemed like the only one who wasn’t quite awake. She didn’t know how these people accomplished all they did while keeping these crazy hours. They should be wearing Superman capes instead of white coats.

  There was no doubt that Daisy’s surgery was going to be complicated and fraught with technical issues. Maggie marveled at the expertise and resources available to the young girl. The doctors and the care team pondered the technical details of reconstructing her face. Dr. Fang led the discussion, broadcasting Daisy’s deformed face, along with three-dimensional CT reconstructions of the bony structures that supported it, on a huge monitor at the front of the room. Dr. Fang could manipulate each bone and demonstrated the insertion of bone that they would take from her hip to close the palate. The lower eyelids would be the most difficult to correct. The ophthalmologist made it clear that they had to be rebuilt with the suppleness to close or the child would soon go blind.

  Dr. Fang showed in graphic detail how the skin of her face would be lifted off—detaching all the adhesions and scarring, down to the muscles controlling her expressions. The procedure would be similar to a facial transplant. They would know, as their team was one of the first in the world to have successfully attempted such a task. Once the skin was elevated, it would be gently laid in place. The absent skin in the most critical areas would be replaced with full-thickness grafts that they would harvest from her forearm or inner thigh.

  Maggie was certain that Daisy was in the best of hands, but it was also clear that Maggie’s presence transformed Daisy from a case to a child in the eyes of the surgical team. Even Dr. Fang announced that they would need a heavy dose of luck and a touch from the divine to be successful.

  Maggie prayed under her breath. Papa, hear our prayers. She took a sip of hot coffee. She was having trouble staying awake—she had not slept well, filled with anxiety at being around the talented surgical team. She felt inadequate and out of place. Worse, she had been asked to speak to them, and her turn at the podium was coming.

  “I have asked Ms. Russell to join us this morning to discuss the child’s psychological issues,” Dr. Fang said, introducing her and inviting her to the podium.

  The group of forty doctors, attendings, residents, and medical students, along with nurses and other ancillary staff gave her a warm applause. The group in their pressed white coats embroidered with Doctor this or Nurse that or Chief of Plastic Surgery or Director of Nursing and the like attentively leaned toward her.

  “Good morning,” Maggie began.

  They all responded, and the room quieted.

  “I must say, I am truly blessed to be here this morning. Your work and talents are something remarkable. Dr. Fang told you that my late husband, John, was a surgeon, and he would have given anything to have the technological advances that you all have at your fingertips…and the camaraderie that you enjoy. Thank you for making me part of Daisy’s care.”

  She cleared her voice and readjusted the microphone.

  “Emotional trauma comes to us in all sorts of ways.” She paused. “It comes in different shapes and sizes, but the reality is, no one escapes it. Maybe it starts early, like in Daisy’s case, from abuse or physical issues. Perhaps it hits later in life with war or natural disaster. Or maybe it occurs from aging, loss or illness. But the research is clear, we all experience it to some degree and must walk through it.”

  Maggie lifted her hand toward the enlarged picture of Daisy behind her. “Sometimes the pain is much more obvious,” she said. “And sometimes we carry the pain invisibly. But the circuit breakers of our soul can handle only so much voltage until they become overloaded, and the emotional stress comes out in all sorts of ways—depression, anxiety, physical pain, or as in Daisy’s situation, the psyche shuts down.”

  The director of nursing raised her hand. “Ms. Russell, is it possible to heal from such trauma?”

  Maggie smiled at her. She could see the pain in the woman’s eyes. “That’s the beauty of the latest research. Yes! I wish my friend Dr. Hart was here with us this morning, as he would love this analogy. As an orthopedic surgeon, he knows that often, as a bone heals from a fracture, it becomes stronger than the original. I like to think of these traumatic experiences as the broken bones of the soul. When the person is encouraged into the healing process of these emotional wounds, they often come out stronger.”

  Maggie took a sip of coffee to wet her dry mouth.

  “We have experienced this firsthand at our mission in Guatemala. Many children come to the orphanage with awful stories…terrible things…” She stopped and redirected her thoughts. “Through the healing and rebuilding process, most of these kids go on to lead very productive lives. Two of our orphans are currently in medical school.”

  “Then they obviously needed more healing,” Dr. Fang interjected, causing the group to laugh. Maggie was thankful for the humor.

  “Yes…remember, I was married to one,” she said, causing more laughter.

  “How do you accomplish so much with your children?” another doctor asked.

  Maggie nodded thoughtfully. “Our psyche has a tremendous capacity for reclamation and growth, but recovering from a traumatic experience necessitates that the painful emotions be thoroughly processed. They cannot be repressed or forgotten. We deal with them head-on, little by little, day by day. We are not afraid of them and don’t let them have power over us.”

  Maggie straightened her back. “Look…Daisy has a long road ahead of her. She must find a person or two that she can trust. She has to understand that there are people she can trust and others she cannot.”

  The group was nodding when a voice filled her heart. Who can you trust? Suddenly her mind was filled with thoughts and images of Nick and Wright. She’d have to deal with the conflict another time. She cleared her mind and continued.

  “The point is that Daisy must find people who will love her above all else—people who are not afraid of her wounds, physically and emotionally. People who will help her feel those feelings and express them…and people who will teach her ways to deal with them constructively. Love is the salve that heals all things.”

  * * *

/>   After she had spoken and the doctors filed out, a group of nurses swarmed around her, hungry for more. One of them showed a great deal of courage and vulnerability as she shared her story of being sold into the sex trade at age ten in Thailand. Rescued by a ministry at fifteen and raised by a loving family in Malaysia, she could attest to the healing power of love. The other nurses had no idea their colleague had endured this, and for a moment, they removed their masks of stoicism and expressed empathy. Maggie was suggesting a support group when she saw Wright enter the back of the room looking pale and sullen.

  “If you would please excuse me,” Maggie said and started toward Wright, but not before the director of nursing stopped her.

  “Ms. Russell…Maggie, thank you. Would you ever consider joining me and some of my staff one evening to share more? Our culture is not one that typically goes deep into our emotional pond. We could use a guide.”

  “I would love that. It may have to be soon, as I am hoping to head home before the week is out,” Maggie said and excused herself.

  Wright stood with his hands thrust deep into his pockets.

  “I just got a call from the hospital in India. Grandmama has taken a terrible turn for the worse. They suggested that if I want to say good-bye, I better hurry.”

  He crossed one foot over the other and stared at the floor, more like a preadolescent boy than the king of a vast empire. “Maggie, I need you. Will you go with me?”

  * * *

  Nick sat in Amy’s empty office at Zelutex. He needed to catch up on all her projects, but the vast majority of the information sat in her office at the research center. He could ask the staff there to ship the contents of her office to him, but the most expedient thing to do was for him to go and spend a day or two on Borneo sorting through the most relevant files. Maybe Wright could take him and Maggie would come along.

  He picked up his phone to call Wright, but the phone rang in his hand before he could dial.

  “Wright, I was just about to ring you.”

  “Nicklaus, it’s Maggie.”

  His stomach churned.

  “Nick, I’m calling from Wright’s phone.”

  Yes, I know that.

  “Nick, Wright is distraught. His grandmother is dying, and he needs to get to India. Nick, I’m so sorry, I told you I would not leave you again. Nick, I’ve prayed to know what to do, and I do not hear anything…I don’t know what to do…I think I need to go with him, Nick.”

  How many times is she going to say my name?

  “Nick, are you there?”

  “Maggie, I’m here. I’m sorry to hear about his grandmother. I was about to call to see if you wanted to go back to Borneo with me.”

  “Nicklaus, I’m so sorry, we are already at the airport.”

  I guess not!

  CHAPTER 40

  LETTING GO

  “Ms. Boxler, Dr. Hart here.”

  “What can I do for you, Doktar?”

  “I’m in Dr. Amy’s office, er…my office, and there are huge gaps in what I need to know about the projects in which she was involved. I need to go to the research center and look through her files and information. I’m not sure how to get there. I was going to see if Wright could take me, but I hear his grandmother is not well and he is on his way to India.”

  There was silence. He wondered if the news had caught her off guard. More likely she was bristling because he’d called her, asking for a favor.

  “No, I did not know that. I’ve been trying to call him.” She sounded perturbed.

  “What do you suggest?” Nick asked.

  “What information are you looking for, Doktar?”

  “Just about everything to do my job.” It was Nick’s turn to be irritable. “The staff has been very kind to catch me up on the IGF-1 drug. But I don’t find any records of the animal studies or the early clinical trials, except for what the individual staff members could provide me. There are too many gaps. Also, I think I should follow up on the issues we may have seen with Welltrex.”

  “Issues?”

  “Yes, like the crazed person in the jungle and the man Amy took to Singapore. I have not heard any reports about him.”

  There was a long pause, and Nick thought she’d disconnected the call.

  “Doktar…I know you have a very steep learning curve and we don’t want to overload you. I would suggest that you focus on the IGF-1 drug before you follow any rabbit trails. We hope to launch the new medication in six months. That leaves you very little time.”

  “I think I owe it to Dr. Amy to complete her work on Welltrex.”

  “That is very kind of you, Doktar. But I have assigned another division for that.”

  Nick’s hand tightened around the receiver and heat rose in his ears. “As medical director, doesn’t all research fall under my authority?”

  “Yes, Doktar, but you fall under my authority.” The tone of her voice remained steady. “I’m only looking out for your well-being. There are only so many hours in the day and we need you to focus.” Her voice turned almost kind. “It is our tradition that you name the newest drug. Dr. Hart, think long and hard about what you want to name the new IGF-1 drug. It will be your legacy.”

  Nick sighed. He hated her patronization, but he was too new to argue. “Will do, Ms. Boxler.”

  “Dr. Hart. Let me release one of our planes to get you to Borneo. I’m afraid you will have to take a car from Kuching.”

  “Hopefully it’s one that flies well.” He knew it was a bad joke, but he didn’t care.

  * * *

  Maggie was relieved when they landed safely in Calcutta. Wright had seemed to throw all his safety checks out the window as they sped down the runway in Singapore and set the jet down hard in India. She wasn’t sure if he was in any shape to be at the controls, but when she mentioned that maybe someone else should pilot, he ignored her.

  Maggie had trouble keeping pace with him as he marched through the hospital and down the hallway. The surgeon anxiously waited outside his grandmother’s room to discuss her condition, but Wright ignored his outstretched hand and marched past him into her room.

  A nurse was mopping his grandmother’s brow with a wet cloth. The smell of death and loose bowels hit Maggie’s nose, and she realized they had barely made it in time. The old woman was in the final stage of her life here on earth.

  Wright sat on the side of the bed and held her bony hand. “Grandmama, it’s Wright. I’m here now. Can you hear me?”

  Her consciousness rose out of the depths and her eyes opened and focused on Wright’s face. “Mowgli, how good of you to come see me,” she said in a wispy voice.

  “Grandmama, how are you feeling?” Wright asked.

  She smiled, and her eyes drifted closed. Wright looked back at Maggie for support, and she stepped forward to put her hand on Wright’s shoulder. Maggie had seen this before—the elderly holding on to this world with as much strength as their frail bodies could muster.

  In the end would she be any different? Even with her unwavering faith and belief in eternity, would she let go so easily to the unknown? She hoped that peace would flood her mind for that last breath and the ultimate letting go that released her into the arms of God and the loving embrace of all who went before her.

  Maggie had heard stories of the dying holding on until their loved ones arrived to escort them into death, or having a brief moment of clarity before taking their last breath.

  “Grandmama, please don’t leave me. You’re all I have,” Wright whispered.

  A smile broke across her wrinkled face. “Oh, Mowgli, how I love you. I’m afraid…” She winced, trying to hang on to her thought.

  Wright held her hand to his cheek as though trying to receive comfort as much as give it. “Grandmama, please.” He looked frantically at Maggie.

  Maggie took over for the nurse, claiming the washcloth and dabbing Grandmama’s cheeks with the cool cloth. The old woman was burning up. Maggie supposed an infection of some kind had come to claim its
victim. It could be from the surgery itself, but more likely from her lungs or kidneys. Sometimes the body just gives up the fight.

  Grandmama’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared into Maggie’s eyes. Maggie stared back and saw pain, fear, and pleading.

  “It’s okay, Grandmama, it’s all going to be okay,” Maggie reassured. “You can let go. You don’t have to fight any longer. A better place awaits you.”

  The woman nodded, and Maggie could see her body relax.

  “Father, we give this wonderful woman into Your loving arms.”

  As Maggie continued to pray, Grandmama’s breathing became agonal and disjointed. Her spirit left, but the neuronal circuitry was discharging independently, firing its last few impulses to the heart and lungs. After a few moments, the heart monitor above their heads began to signal the slowing of the heart and then lost all myocardial activity.

  Wright grabbed Grandmama’s shoulders, laying his head against her chest. “No, Grandmama, no.”

  * * *

  Nick was angry. His back throbbed as much as his head. Not only had Maggie broken her promise not to leave him, she had gone with Wright. And Nick was bouncing down a rutted, pothole-filled dirt road on the equivalent of a Guatemalan chicken bus. Ms. Boxler had arranged for his flight to Kuching, but there was no car waiting for him at the airport. Her only suggestion was to take the bus to the Batang Ai public jetty, where she would have one of the staff from the research center pick him up by longboat. The mother of dragons could arrange all that, but not a car. She’s messing with me. Nick knew she was not about to make his transition to the business world easy.

  He wasn’t sure how much more of the seven-hour trip he could take, especially since the bus driver was blasting Katy Perry through the large woofers overhead.