Hijab

by Guruprasad Kaginele

  Jack Powell, the CEO of the hospital, overwhelmed by the menace of the media was trying to push me into giving a press statement. There was a gag order from the board of directors to all of us about talking to the media. Powell had reluctantly agreed. He had come up to me and said, ‘Guru, we can’t be quiet for too long. If we don’t talk now, these media folks will put words in our mouth and you know how that will be distorted and exaggerated. I don’t have to tell you the mess that we will have on our hands. These board members don’t get it. Media has almost passed the verdict that the series of events originated from ‘the Rukhiya delivery’ in our hospital. For some reason, none of these Sanghaalis has given a statement. In this situation, don’t you think that we must be better prepared? If anyone from the media stops us on the road and asks some random questions, and if we ramble something nonsensical in response, wouldn’t that put us in a lot of trouble?’

  Obviously I had no answers.

  Radhika and I were sitting in the office when Srikantha walked in with a large cup of coffee in hand. He said as he was taking a seat, ‘Officials from the Minnesota State Health Department and the local police had paid a visit to the hospital and met with Powell.’ I had wondered sometimes, how he could get all this information. He loved these gossips more than his work. Neither Radhika nor I had any clue about this new development. Powell had not sought us out for this supposed meeting either. I was a bit surprised and said, ‘Radhika, do you know about this?’ She did not answer but sat there in a corner sniffling.

  I looked at Srikantha and said, ‘I think Powell is hiding something from us. He might be planning to fire us. You have read our contract clause, right? We are “at will” employees. They can fire us without giving any reason. The management might use this mess to roll some heads and who do you think that they will fire? Razak has always kept himself away from this chaos. He still minds his own business. He is angry at Radhika for dragging him into this shitty mess. We are in America only because of this job. If we lose this job, we lose our visa. We can kiss goodbye to our green cards. I think we are screwed’.

  Radhika’s face reflected almost everything that I said, and it appeared as if she would lose her sanity at any moment. She started sobbing loudly, ‘Guru, stop it. Young women are dying here. I thought my job was to save lives but I don’t think that I am doing anything remotely close. In fact, I might have triggered these events. Why are we not sensitive about this fact? We are only thinking about our jobs. I do not want a job that kills people!’

  ‘You guys will be fine. Nobody will fire you.’ Srikantha pitched in like some hotshot lawyer. I got a sense that he may be saying so to comfort Radhika. He looked at me and said, ‘Guru, think about it. There’s not a single complaint from anyone, anywhere. Why would the hospital fire you guys and make a tacit admission that it’s their fault? Powell is a smart guy. He will wait till anyone from the Sanghaali community talks to the press which could incriminate us or the hospital. At that time, he will have to act. You guys are the perfect first line of defense. Letting go of all three doctors is a highly visible response. If he lets you guys go now, who will he fire when it is really the time to fire people? Do you think that he will answer the press? He cannot get you guys back to talk to the media at that time even if he wants to. By then you would have forfeited your visas and you’ll be back in India.’ It was not clear if he was trying to console or scare us.

  I tried to cheer up Radhika. We decided that it was best to meet Powell and ask him what the hell was going on. At this point Radhika was so vulnerable that she was ready to listen to anybody’s advice. She just followed me.

  Once we reached Powell’s office, we were not so sure whether we did the right thing. Sitting in his office was Amoka’s chief of police. Powell did not speak. I squinted my eyes at the police chief and looked at Powell suggestively asking what he was doing there.

  Powell laughed and said, ‘Nothing much. Just a courtesy visit…heh heh heh.’ I almost had a fit, seeing a police officer in Powell’s office. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘if you want to keep us fully out of this mess, we will be happy to stay out. Don’t drag us into running your errands like giving press statements and attending meetings. We are not stupid enough to not know what’s happening in Amoka. I expect complete transparency from you. Keep us in the loop. I’m not a fool. I know that this is not the time to huddle in the office over free coffee.’ Powell looked at the police officer seated across.

  The police officer asked Radhika and me to take our seats and, cleared his throat and said, ‘The issue here is so very complicated, you know. Until now, neither the police nor the Health Department has received a single complaint. So, no one is clear on where to start an official investigation. This whole business of mass suicides is a media buzz, complete bullshit.’ He looked at us to make sure that we were still with him. ‘The whole shebang makes no sense. All the four deaths have occurred at homes, not at any hospital. The cause of death in every case has been officially declared as suicide after a detailed analysis and autopsy. But, have you guys observed? There is no common thread that connects them. But, no one will buy the argument that these are mere coincidences. Who knows why none of the Sanghaalis has filed an official complaint? Are they planning something big? Something more devious? No idea. Nada. We cannot keep quiet, doc. So, we arrested the husbands of the dead women on domestic abuse charges and questioned them. We had to let them go as we didn’t have diddly squat on anyone. We cannot arrest anyone at random. All we need is one complaint, just one. It does not matter on whom. If any relative of any dead person files a complaint that her husband was abusing her, we can swing into action. You can then see how things will unravel and skeletons come tumbling out.’

  Radhika asked, ‘Have you given any thought about this Dr Mohammad fellow? This whole series of deaths started since this Minneapolis doctor came to our hospital and had a meeting with us. Do you think that this is just a coincidence?’

  ‘Doc, you speak like a detective. Yes, he did come to your hospital for a meeting. Does that mean we can link him with the suicides? He is a respected person in their community. We cannot bring him to the police station at our whim for questioning. We can only ask his opinion. Our detectives have tried to contact him. He is not reachable over the phone.’

  His constant references of ‘we’ and ‘them’ made me wonder if there are two parties now—us and them. I was somewhat surprised that Dr Mohammad Mohammad was not reachable over the phone.

  Radhika said, ‘Did anyone from their side leave a note or something stating that they were taking their lives because C-sections were done against their wishes or against their religious beliefs?’

  ‘Doc, you are opening a Pandora’s box. Don’t you even go there. Don’t put words in anyone’s mouth. The media is on an overdrive on this news. They have nothing better to do other than talking about this topic, days on end. You’ve got to be happy that this is still on local channels, not on cable yet. Let it be that way for some time. This is the age of the internet and social media. We can never know when you guys will be “world famous”.’ He gestured the quotes with his fingers. ‘However, Dr Radhika, you do have a point though. I’ll try to answer your question. Let’s say if someone did file a complaint against you guys. That will only give us a possible cause. This is not strong enough to arrest you. Anyway, who are we going to arrest here, doc? Who should be arrested? If someone died directly as a result of complications of your surgery, then you could be guilty. My advice—clean up. Go over your medical records. I’m guessing that you have accurately documented your discussions with these two patients. Ensure that there are no mistakes from your side.’

  Radhika replied, ‘What is that supposed to mean? The medical records are medical records. They are clearly documented. How can we change them now? There is nothing to be changed anyway.’

  He got up, ‘I did not tell you to doctor those documents, doctor’ then laughed at his own pun. ‘I asked you to clean up. No loose ends. Nice m
eeting you both. Jack, I will see you later. I’ve got to go to Chapel, you know. They have given those cases to someone else since it is not Fair Blue County. Just because something is not in our jurisdiction, is it right to squabble over which case goes to whom, like they do in the movies? I’ve asked the higher-ups for some latitude. Let us wait. I hope no Sanghaali chick blows her brains out. Speaking for myself doc, I hope this affair ends here. I’m tired of it. By the way, I forgot to mention, there will be a squad car stationed outside your home from tomorrow. You guys, don’t leave this town. Just some due diligence, you know.’ He shook our hands and left.

  Radhika and I stood there, silently watching the spectacle taking place before us. It was, however, not clear as to what we were supposed to do. The events had overwhelmed us, and we stood there in the eye of a storm, too surreal for us to comprehend.

  A car from the Amoka County Police Department was parked about a hundred yards away when we went home.

  Srikantha advised, ‘Oh my goodness! Are they guarding you or watching you? It may be good for you both to talk to an attorney.’

  I said I’ll think about it. Radhika made no comment.

  9. Board Meeting with Rick H.H. Jackson

  The hospital’s board had called for an emergency meeting. The hospital board in Amoka always reminded me of the Panchayat—a grouping of village chieftains—back in small-town India. It was a random group of Amoka’s finest—the school principal, the insurance agent, the lawyer, the car dealer and the plumber—who had not even an iota of knowledge about medicine. This board was elected by the town folk and was specifically tasked to oversee our work. A big brother to all doctors! If a doctor gets invited to a board meeting, that was always bad news. No board member ever congratulated any doctor for saving a life. There were no pats on the back, no trophies, no appreciation of any sort. On the contrary, if there were any complaints from patients about the quality of our care, we would almost surely be summoned to one of these meetings. Therefore, an invite for a board meeting always foretold trouble and meant that there was nothing to cheer about.

  As the chief of medical staff, I was the only person invited to the board meeting today. I had sent an email to all the board members requesting that Radhika be invited to the meeting too. Her input would be more crucial than mine in this case. The board had approved my request. On hindsight, I always felt that this request was more for self-preservation, to save my own ass.

  The meeting started with civility contrary to what I had expected. There were no critical comments about our work. Instead, there was a run-down of all possible ways that the hospital board could react and respond. It was an anticipated lumping of questions; like preparations for a future apocalypse.

  Once the Board President Rick Jackson joined the meeting, the tone of the meeting changed completely. Rick, who was born and raised in Amoka, was the president of the town’s Rotary Club, the Chamber of Commerce, the school board and Amoka Golf Club as well as a well-known attorney in this part of the state. An imposing man with a pinkish complexion and a prominent red moustache, trousers held in place with suspenders over a protruding belly, he was the quintessential mid-westerner. Everything about him fit this archetype. His typical Minnesota accent punctuated with constant refrains of ‘You betcha’, his annoying demeanor of slurping coffee and speaking with half the brew in his mouth. I didn’t know the man well as I didn’t attend the board meetings that often. The letters HH tattooed on his forearm caught my attention. My sketchy Hollywood knowledge suggested that the letters meant Heil Hitler. I suspected that he might be a member of some white supremacist group. The thought had also made me wonder if we could expect any help from him at all. I could feel a shudder down my leg. He noticed me looking at his tattoo and tried to cover it with his hand and said in an awkward loud voice, ‘Hubert Humphrey. Minneapolis airport is named after him. A proud citizen of our state. He served as America’s vice president after the Kennedy assassination. My dad golfed with him.’ If this tattoo was indeed Hubert Humphrey as he claimed, then why did he try to hide it? I wondered.

  After a brief exchange of greetings, he addressed me directly, as if to put an end to my Aryan line of thinking, ‘Doctor, in both these cases related to our hospital, are you convinced that your colleague Dr Radhika is not at fault? Are you happy with your investigation?’

  I laughed nervously, ‘In the first place if Dr Radhika had done anything wrong, these women would not have committed suicides, but instead, they would have sued our hospital.’

  ‘Doctor, please, let us discuss keeping in mind only the matter on hand. This is no time to joke.’ Jackson’s gaze conveyed the caveat, not to expect any kind of sympathy from his side.

  I reeled off everything that I knew about these two cases. I said, looking at Radhika, ‘In both the cases it is apparent from going over the records that there was no option but to perform the Cesarean sections.’

  Radhika did not say anything.

  I continued, ‘In the first instance, when Rukhiya’s husband Abdhi Abu-Bakr wrote a formal complaint to us, I had sent all her records to Razak and Dr Smith for a review. Both gave the same opinion that what Radhika had done here was right. In Fadhuma’s case, I was present right there witnessing the procedure. In fact, I was the one who had sedated Fadhuma.’

  ‘Are you an anesthesiologist?’ the conversation took a different turn.

  ‘No; but I have the license to sedate people for minor procedures. We call this moderate sedation. This is not anesthesia.’

  ‘What was the medicine given to Fadhuma?’

  ‘It’s called Propofol.’

  ‘Didn’t Michael Jackson die from the same medicine?’

  I was furious. What’s on his mind? What was wrong with giving this medicine? I glared at him.

  ‘Just checking. Sorry doctor. I speak my mind directly. In this situation here, you, Dr Radhika and Razak are on the same side. Nobody on their side will believe that they can expect an impartial review from any of you. We need to protect ourselves better.’

  I couldn’t hold myself back and said, ‘Mr. Jackson, none of us here have done anything wrong. If you show these records to any professional, you will get the same opinion.’

  ‘Dr Guru, there is no reason to get agitated. It serves no purpose. There is one thing clear here. Two young women have taken their lives after your colleague operated on them. Please keep that in mind when you speak. Can I ask a question? Well, I will ask anyway. Why this stubbornness to handle these cases in our hospital? We could have transferred these patients to the University, right? This is a small town. Ours is a small hospital.’

  ‘Mr Jackson! Please. This is not a court. Sure, you are a lawyer, but you are also the president of the hospital board. You should represent us. Instead, if we knew that you were going to court martial us, we would have come prepared too. Feel free to send the medical records to anyone. We couldn’t care less! Let us see where that leads to.’ My voice was quivering.

  Radhika squeezed my hands. They were cold. She was also sweating.

  Jackson perhaps noticed this. ‘Dr Guru, Dr Radhika, are you two related?’

  Radhika and I looked at each other.

  Radhika said, ‘We have been friends for a long time. We are here for our work.’

  ‘Do you live in the same house?’

  ‘That is nobody’s business here.’ I thought she might start crying any second!

  ‘Oh!’ Jackson exclaimed sipping his coffee.

  ‘What is that supposed to mean? We are just friends. And I have a boyfriend who loves me more than his own life.’

  And no sooner did she utter these words, she could not hold back her tears any more. The restraint she had shown till then collapsed and tears started running down her cheeks. She ran out of the meeting room sobbing loudly. A hush fell on the meeting amidst sympathetic sighs and a verbal chorus of pity. I followed Radhika. I saw her standing alone, by the restroom, crying. I went up to her. I did not know what to say and I to
ok her hand and led her out. We walked to my car which was parked at the back side of the hospital to evade the media. Radhika continued to hold on to my hand.

  It was dark when we came out. I opened my car door. She hugged me suddenly, ‘Guru, please help me out of this mess. I don’t know what I did wrong!’ and then started crying loudly. Tears flowed abundantly down her cheeks. She stood there holding me close for almost five minutes. A breeze brushed her curls against my cheeks. Her breath warmed my neck. I gently rubbed her back to console her. I lifted her chin up and held her face against mine. Her eyes were open. I raised my hands to wipe the tears from her eyes, when she raised her head and kissed me on my lips.

  It’s hard for me to say what was going through my mind at that moment. In there, everyone—Giri, Mohammad, Fadhuma, and Abdhi—drifted as images between Radhika and I like a slideshow. Just moments ago, Rick was alluding to a relationship between us. It looks like we are trying to prove him right. Is it normal to feel this way when kissing a girl? And after all, who is this girl? It’s Radhika. I’ve known her and Giri for a long time and I can recollect every facet of their relationship; as well as Radhika’s assertion of, ‘I’ve a loving boyfriend’, in the meeting.

  I felt dizzy for a moment and held her afar. Radhika came close to me again and held my arms. ‘Guru, can you help me out of this mess? I just want to get my green card and get out of here.’ She was gazing into my eyes. Her eyes were filled with tears and seemed to seek some assurance from me.

  I was shaken, as if someone had kicked me on my crotch. None of what was happening felt real. I’m the boss. Radhika works for me. That obviously makes me more powerful. She thinks I can help her out of this mess and pull her out of this trouble. This kiss is a Thank you Card even before the favors were dished out!