The Music Trilogy (9 page)

CHAPTER 12

Ali graduated at the top of his class. His parents, Simeon, Sela, and Valentina, now six years old, were present at the ceremony.

“I’m very proud of you, Doctor Ali,” Simeon said.

“It is thanks to you that this is possible. I can never repay you,” Ali said.

“Don’t be ridiculous! There is nothing to repay. You have repaid me through your success. Not to mention saving my daughter’s life and giving me the opportunity to have a grandchild. If it hadn’t been for you they wouldn’t be here today. I regard you as my own, like a part of my family, like a son.” Simeon hugged the younger man, engulfing him in his big embrace. “Congratulations, my boy.”

“I’m proud of you too, Uncle Doctor Ali,” Valentina chirped.

Ali lifted her up in the air and hugged her. “And I’m very happy you came today! You look very beautiful, young lady.” Valentina beamed. She loved Ali so very much.

“Have they given you your first assignment?” Sela asked, hugging and congratulating her friend. Ali hugged her back, more in love with her than ever. When would she let him into her heart? Why couldn’t she see how much she meant to him, how much he loved her.

“Yes. I had several choices…”

“Of course he did,” Simeon interrupted, rubbing his beard, “he was the best in his class, and do you know what he chose?” They all looked at him questioningly. “He is going to be my assistant at the hospital!” Simeon beamed.

“That is fantastic, Ali!” Sela said.

“Yes, it is,” Jamil said. “You always said you wanted to be just like the good doctor, and now you stand beside him.” Ali’s father stopped himself from saying anything else. He was overcome with emotion, and he knew that if he uttered another word the tears would fall down his face. He now understood why women cried.

Simeon picked up on it. “You know, Jamil, I couldn’t be more proud if he were my own son. You and Leila have done a wonderful job.”

“It is thanks to you, Doctor, that Ali is where he is today.”

“Nonsense, Ali did it all, including his appendicitis. Why, if it hadn’t been for that I would never have met any of you. And I am especially fond and grateful to Leila who has over the years spoiled me mercilessly with her wonderful desserts.”

“It has been a pleasure, and the least I could do for such a great man such as yourself,” Leila said.

“Oh, dearest Leila, the pleasure has been deliciously mine,” Simeon said.

“Doctor Simeon, there is something that I have wondered about for years. I have been meaning to ask you about it.”

“And what is that, Jamil?”

“Who is Quan Yin?”

Simeon roared with laughter. He put his big arm around Jamil’s shoulder and took him to the side. “She is a very special lady…” He whispered. Jamil was almost sorry he asked. Was the good doctor having an affair? “Let me tell you about her,” Simeon continued, “I met her through a mutual friend, a Chinese doctor that came here for a convention many, many years ago. He was a brilliant scientist who showed me many great things about Chinese medicine, including acupuncture.”

“What kind of puncture?”

Simeon’s big body shook with laughter. “Come, I will tell you all about this lovely lady over a coffee and some dessert, and how very sweet she is too. She is a Goddess.” Jamil swallowed hard. What dark secrets was the good doctor going to divulge?

♫

CHAPTER 13

Ali proved himself worthy of his studies and his profession. He was conscientious, meticulous, a quick learner, and an asset to the hospital and to Simeon. He thrived in his environment and extended loving medical care to the patients at the hospital and whenever he was sent out to the field. But Sela was always on his mind, and his love for her pained his heart.

Ali was at a Bedouin camp administering vaccinations to the desert dwellers deep in the Sahara. They formed a line in front of his tent. He injected them and gave candy to the children. He showed them, as much as they wanted to follow, proper hygiene and preventative measures. That night, Ali was lying on his cot in his tent dreaming, as always of Sela, when three men silently barged in. One of them grabbed Ali’s medical bag. The other two covered his mouth and his eyes, tied his arms and dragged him to the horses waiting outside. They flung him onto one of them and galloped off into the black of night.

A little while later they arrived at another camp. It was very dark, save for a glow from one of the goat-hair tents. The kidnappers dismounted and pulled Ali off his horse. They guided him inside and removed the bandanas from his eyes and mouth and the rope from his wrists. Ali squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to see his surroundings. A man sat cross-legged on a cushion in front of a fire. He wore a dirty white headdress and a faded dark blue jellabah. His beard was thick and unkempt and his very dark eyes seemed to bore right into Ali.

“Please sit down.” The man said.

“I want to know why I was brought here, and in such a fashion!” Ali said, furious.

“Sit down!” The man ordered. One of the men who had come with Ali pushed him down onto a cushion. Ali went down hard. He sat in front of the man who seemed to be in command.

“What do you want from me? Why was I brought here?”

“My name is Badr and I am the chief of this tribe. You are the doctor?”

“I am a doctor, yes,” Ali answered. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

“They say you have special powers and you heal people.”

“I am a doctor, with no particular powers. I do whatever is possible to help people with their illnesses.”

“But it is said you perform miracles.”

“I already told you, I am just a doctor. Only Allah performs miracles. What is it you want from me?” Ali asked, now more worried than aggravated.

“They say you are good with women.” What did he mean by that? Ali thought. “I brought you here because my wife is dying and I want you to save her.”

“It is true that my specialty is women’s illnesses, but like I told you, only Allah performs miracles, and I don’t like the way I was brought here. You could have simply asked me to come.”

Badr looked at him with piercing eyes. “You lie! You would not have come here.” He shouted. “Now, it is time for you to save my wife! Enough talk.” He gestured to one of the men.

Ali was roughly lifted to his feet and his medical bag shoved into his stomach. He gasped from the unexpected blow. Badr stood up and headed toward the back of the tent. The men pushed Ali forward. He didn’t have much choice in the matter, he followed the chief. The area was dimly lit by a single oil lamp. Ali saw an older woman lying on a bed of carpets, gasping for air. Other women stood over her, moaning and praying. As soon as they saw the men they quickly covered their faces, including the woman lying down. Ali tried to get closer but the men held him back.

“What? Let go of me!” Ali shouted. The men released him, not expecting such a reaction. Ali looked at Badr menacingly. “This is your wife?” Badr nodded. “She can hardly breathe. I need to examine her.”

“You will examine her?” The chief asked surprised and apprehensive.

“Otherwise I cannot tell what is wrong with her!” Ali said through clenched teeth, holding back his temper. He knew what was happening. He was a Muslim and he knew the rules, but out in the desert they made their own, and some of them were stricter than others. “Now, listen to me! I am a doctor and this is what I do. I try to heal as best I can, but before I do I must understand what is wrong.” The two men looked at each other, neither backing down. “This is what I suggest,” Ali continued, trying to control his irritation, “your men leave, the women stay and help me, and you go as well. As soon as I have any news I will let you know. Trust me, I will do my best.” Badr stared. No man can stay alone with his wife, or any other woman, unless they are married. As if reading his mind Ali continued: “Do not regard me as man, but as a messenger from Allah. If His will is that I help heal her then it shall be done. My intentions are purely noble and professional.” Ali put his hand on Badr’s shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. Badr nodded, made a quick gesture, and the men left the area. The women stared at the young doctor, quite amazed. He had been allowed to stay!

The chief’s wife’s raspy, badly cadenced breaths pushed out of her mouth with difficulty, and the wrinkles around her eyes relayed more than just age and hardship, but pain. Ali quickly went to work. He took his stethoscope out of his bag and put it against the woman’s heart. He couldn’t hear very well as he had to listen through her robe. Her breathing was labored. He turned to her. “Where does it hurt?” He asked. She put her hand on her chest and her side. “How long have you had this pain?”

“Several days,” she whimpered hoarsely.

“What is your name?”

“Hanna.”

“Alright, Hanna, I am a doctor and this is my job. I am going to try to take the pain away but I need you to help me. Will you do that?” He asked gently. She nodded. “I cannot see what is wrong with all your clothes on. I have to look underneath your robe.” Hanna’s eyes grew very wide. She shook her head vividly—that was out of the question. The other women wailed. This could not be done. Ali motioned for them to come closer. They did. “When you prepare a chicken you must first pluck the feathers, right?” They nodded. “It is the same way with doctors. We must first prepare the patients so that we can fix them, just like the chickens. We have no relation with the chickens; we are just doing our job.” Ali looked at them. “You agree?” They nodded slowly, unsure of where the doctor was taking this. What was he going to do with Hanna? He wanted to pluck her like a chicken? “We also have assistants which we call nurses, and you look like you could be fine nurses.” The women beamed. “Would you be willing to be my assistants?” They nodded, albeit apprehensively. How hard could it be? They knew how to pluck chickens. “You see how she cannot breathe very well? We must take her robe off to see where the problem is. Can you do that for me?” The women were unsure. They didn’t move. “Alright, listen to me,” Ali said, “if you cannot be my assistants and help me, Hanna will die. Now, please, help me. Take her robe off. You can cover her breasts. I only need to see under them and her side. Cover up the rest of the body. Do it now, we are wasting precious time. I will turn around. Tell me when Hanna is ready.” Ali turned and the women apprehensively, but quickly, did as he asked.

“She is ready,” the oldest woman said.

Ali turned around and almost laughed. Hanna’s robe hid the lower portion of her body. Another robe covered her chest, including her face and head, and her midsection was covered by yet a third. Ali pulled the robe down from her face. “She needs to breath and I need to talk to her,” he said, before any of them could complain. He looked at his patient. She was in pain. “Hanna, I’m going to push on your stomach area. I need you to tell me how bad the pain is, if it’s less or more. I will try not to hurt you. Alright?” She nodded. Ali lifted the robe from her side. Her skin was very smooth and looked like a younger woman’s. It had never been uncovered, had never seen the light of the sun, and had always been a prisoner of the robe. He gently pushed on her side and Hanna moaned, trying very hard not to scream. He took his stethoscope and very carefully worked around the breasts listening some more. The women moved in closer, also trying to listen. “Right, cover her up please,” Ali asked his ‘nurses’. He walked out to Badr.

The husband turned around questioningly. “What is wrong with her, Doctor?”

“She has pneumothorax.”

The chief stared at him blankly. “Is she going to die?” He asked, absolutely not knowing what Ali was talking about.

“She needs an operation.”

“If she has this operation, she will be alright?”

“Probably.”

“So perform the operation and save her!”

“It has to be done in a hospital, with a professional medical team…”

“No! You will do the operation, right here, right now.”

“I cannot do it alone. I need…”

“The women will help you. Now, no more talk, or she will not be the only one who dies.” Badr shoved him back toward the other room, his hand on his curved knife. Ali cursed to himself. He was in a bad predicament. His only way out was to perform the operation—and successfully! He knew his chances were not very good. Either way, he thought, I’m a dead man. He stopped, took a deep breath and headed into the area where the women were waiting.

“Nurses!” He bellowed. They practically jumped at attention. “Listen carefully! We are going to perform an operation. I need you to get me the largest glass jug you can find that has a cork, and then fill it a third of the way up with water. I also need several cloths, the cleanest ones you can find.” That might be a tall order, he muttered to himself. He looked at the women. “Can you do that?”

“
Aïwa, Tabib,
yes Doctor, I shall do it,” one of the women said, and scurried out. She came back in moments with the requested items.

Ali pulled out a catheter, a scalpel, a pair of scissors, and a small bottle containing clear liquid from his medical bag. He picked up a candle and asked one of the women to light it and hold it. He made two holes through the cork belonging to the large glass jug, and then inserted one end of the catheter through it, took the candle from the woman holding it and made a seal around the rubber tube in the cork by dripping wax around it. He held the other end of the catheter up in the air. “Nurse, hold this,” he instructed one of the women. It was done immediately. Ali took the scissors and cut a small piece of the catheter the ‘nurse’
was holding and inserted it into the other hole. He made a tight seal around that tube as well. He put the jug on the floor. “Cloth!” He ordered. Another woman handed one to him. Ali doused it with liquid from the bottle, turning his head slightly. He then put it close to Hanna’s face. “Hanna, I am going to put this on your nose and you will fall asleep. This will not hurt at all. When you wake up it will be all over. You will have just a little pain and you will be able to breath. Alright?” Hanna nodded. He gently put the anesthetic over her nose and mouth and the chief’s wife immediately fell asleep. The other women’s eyes grew wider. Was she already dead? They wondered. Ali took another bottle out of his bag, this one containing alcohol and poured some over the scalpel and the end of the catheter the woman was holding. He handed the bottle to another woman and instructed her to pour the alcohol over his hands. “Now, I want you to move the robe down from her neck and pull it to just above her breast.” The woman looked at him. “Don’t look at me, just do it! Time is running out.” The woman did as he asked. He looked at the women. They were a tough bunch but he figured he should ask anyway. “Does blood bother anybody?” They shook their heads. “Good. Let’s start. I want you to soak the cloths with the liquid from the bottle you poured over my hands.” They poured the alcohol as he asked. “Now, there is going to be some blood. When I tell you, I want you to wipe it off. Understood?” They nodded. Ali leaned over the unconscious woman with the scalpel hovering between her ribs and her breast. The women’s eyes became as wide and round as their sockets would allow. They held their breath as Ali carefully made an incision just above her breast and into the pleural space. Blood slowly oozed out, and the young doctor quickly inserted the catheter. “Wipe! Make sure it’s away from the cut,” he commanded. One of the women followed his instructions meticulously. Ali was perspiring. It was getting in his eyes. He wiped his forehead on his shoulder. As Hanna breathed out and the pleural volume started to decrease, the air squeezed out into the tube going down into the jug. The underwater drain worked and ensured that the air traveled only one way. Ali and his nurses continued their procedures for a little while longer. They wiped the blood off diligently, away from the incision. When he was satisfied he pulled the catheter out of her and put in a couple of stitches. He poured a little more alcohol over the now closed incision for good measure and added gauze over it. The conditions were definitely not the most hygienic. “The bandage and the stitches will need to come out in about five days,” Ali said, holding up his hand to make them understand when they had to be removed. “Can one of you do that?” He asked. They nodded. “Good, now cover her up,” he said. The women did, and then looked at him. “Ladies, we are finished. You did a wonderful job. You are great nurses and she is going to be fine.” The women smiled, proud of themselves, happy for Hanna and grateful for the doctor’s praises. They would have great stories to tell for many years about this night. “Now, please clean everything up and burn the cloths.” Ali went to see Badr. The chief looked at him apprehensively. “She is going to make it,” Ali said.

“Allah be praised!”