Our Daddy’s old yellow hammer will have to do; although it’s rusty. I think to myself if my nurse is fairly close. I nod my head in silence, thinking a hammer a day keeps the patient away.
Nurse Tony is half way close to the oldest known store room, with the smell of turpentine and hallucinating liquids emanating through the interspaces. Dust and grim wraps every bent of the containers and cobwebs make a silky haven. He shoves through to reach the hammer. And before he closes the door, he puts the metal head of the hammer into his secret safety stash. He makes effort to surveil before meeting the Patient.
Nurse Tony is fair-skinned, with beautiful brown eyes and curled long lashes. He has a feminine touch when it comes to dealing with objects. The first thing in the morning, he sorts out the best clean cap and wears it on his head; in such a way that the elastic band aptly sits over the largest circumference of his head. He earnestly hands over the hammer to me. He starts to enter few words in a case sheet kept on a table next to Patient Kim.
I take the hammer in my hands and follow my instincts. Just when the Patient turns his head, I bang the hammer onto his head. The shock shakes him and recoils his body on his bed with no words spoken. We watch him and look at each other in dismay. Nurse Tony panics and we call for a discussion and quickly sneak into a small kitchen storeroom. It had rows and rows of food reserves, cornflakes and pine O clean untouched. Tony closes the doors behind. ‘What do we do now?, he shouts in fear. ‘Let me say it first’, holds his breath. A loud voice from television interrupts and clears his thinking. I say to him, ‘You’re a nurse; do what is needed’. He agreed.
He couldn’t think of anything else. He opens the door, swiftly moving towards the kitchen. He pulls a pan from a nearest shelf of arm length; puts it upside down. His eyes roll to see anyone spying him and raise his legs to stand on it. I keep an eye on the Patient as he lies there motionless. Tony waves his right hand as to obtain the matter. A small can of olive oil toss by his hand unknowingly and oil drips drop by drop continuously on the wooden plank kitchen table. He catches hold of two knives with varying sharpness and size; pulls them victoriously out of the knife stand and runs to the emergency room.
He enters quietly remembering the Patient in coma. He places the knives on the table with a wobbly leg next to the Patient. His oil-greased hands coat a layer on the wooden handles of the knives. He sees dirt laden nails of his index fingers imagining high usage and rendered manipulations.
He glances side to side and looks at his beads of blood spouting through invisible lacerations on the skin. Behind closed doors of toilet, he washes his gentle hands, pats on a towel. He tries to find a bandage to cover his wounds. In less than a minute, he finds cellophane tape; unhesitant to wrap his wounds.
He comes back with tear in his eyes that makes a sparkle on corners of his prominent eyes with long girly lashes. He looks and nods at once acknowledging the care for his wounded fingers. I tell myself, ‘I have been a patient doctor’.
While Patient Kim still floats unconscious, we hear strange noise but with a rhythm. Tony turns with eyes open wide and says, ‘Have we turned him to a pig? ’.He now grunts. It is now frightening and can hear my heart beating out of my dress. I hold Tony’s body and tremble in disbelief and fear. Tony says, ‘It’s time to act’ and sweats profusely. ‘Hand me a pen, Nurse’ I say.
I can feel Tony’s urge to take a break. I say hospitably, ‘I have cordial and biscuits if you want some’. Tony tiredly loosens his undies covering his head and wipes his sweat while I make sketches on Patient’s abdomen. I can see the elastic waist band pressing his forehead and leaving imprints. He pours cordial into a plastic disposable cup and empties biscuits in minutes before I arrive to join in for the treats.
Patient Kim is constantly grunting with his hands lied on his chest, eyes closed with no observable moments. I laboriously think of raising this patient of mine. I turn to see Nurse Tony crunch away all biscuits with no courtesy for a doctor.
Shaking my head to change my subject of thought, I pull out a cabin of unused stuff which helps one day or the other. I find a yo-yo with a spiderman on it; taking it for a good sign. I try to split the yo-yo. I pull it apart with two tight fists. Tony watches my every move as an assistant should. It came out as two parts of yo-yo with a thick twine connecting it. With one half of yo-yo, I stick to the Patient’s chest and with the other half, I try to stick on to my ears. Thick twine is long and gives freedom of space while working around.
Scratching my head in doubts, I worry for my Patient’s lack of heart-beat. Nurse Tony pulls on his undies back on his head and joins me and acknowledges the same report. ‘Too bad’, he says.
‘We better quicken the process’, I say. I hold a knife up high and make incisions tracing the sketch surrounding the belly-button. My nurse stands beside me carrying tray with a bowl of hot tap water to dip knives and other surgical instruments. ‘I feel queasy’, he says. His vibes affect my operative mood. In few seconds, he says, ‘I see a red gooey stuff’. ‘Scoop them up’, I say. It’s all bad stuff. My nurse readily puts on reversed black socks on his both hands. He strongly recommends that we better call his best buddies to look at him for one last time ‘cause it looks awful. I understand the time of need and shake my head in agreement.
Nurse Tony pulls out a plastic telephone with three numbers on the dial and disconnected wires from under his bed which is always cluttered with other goods. He hurriedly winds in the dial of three numbers with maximum combinations and informs them.
I hear muffled voices come through the stairs and few bikes revving in. I stare down the stairs and find people with long hair, short hair, one with military cut and another with no hair; wearing long chains with skulls and owls. On the other side, I see some girls with tears and some discussing the unbelievable happening.
As they walk to our doors, my nurse checks them intently to not allow any eatables in their hands and bags. He smilingly cheers them up with a wrist band on everyone’s right hand and says, ‘Never lose this visitor band’. His eyes bulge when he says, ‘Kindly switch off your mobile phones as we do not want to wake up the patient; He is in deep coma’. ‘Comma?’ exclaimed Ryan from his gang. ‘That’s right’.
I proudly peep through the window considering my responsible and all-knowing nurse Tony. They enter in silence. ‘There’s no time to waste’, I say. Our Patient’s abdomen is open for a long time. Tony pulls out coils of loopy loops. He throws up. I then pull the coils, sweating over and Tony extends the coils to every corners of the operation theatre. I proudly cut the last hanging bit and exclaim, ‘I love being a doctor’. Tony says, ‘And I love being a nurse’ finding a cordial again.
The doorbell rings, I hear footsteps approaching to the main door. I see mother rushing to the entrance. On her way, she finds us with the Patient and his mourners in silence. She pauses and looks around. She looks puzzled about her torn and tied up panty hoses in many colours blue, black, red and cream, extending to every corners of our bedroom and Tony with his brand new blue undies on his head with his cellophane-stuck wounded finger busy picking his nose.
The doorbell rings the second time, I turn to look into our commitments and mourners mourn and pray while Tony has a rummaging search for another biscuit.