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"Yes, I will engage Khadija as she speaks perfect English. She can do the updates and supervise the rehabilitation of the patients. There are a lot, and they will require care, but you both have given them the best possible chance for a better life."
I was a little speechless after that one. That was the reason why I wanted to be a doctor, and the feeling that I was making an impact was humbling and spectacular all at once.
A local nurse came in and spoke to Dr. Al-Sawi. He turned to me. "We're ready to begin, Dr. Harrington."
Nodding at Karen, we gowned up and got ready to start our final day.
The operating room was a little bit of a schmozzle today. People were going in and out despite our recommendations to keep these to a minimum. The opening and closing of doors could introduce infectious particles, and when you were doing something where there was the opening of skin, we wanted the area to be as clean as possible.
But I could understand the excitement in the hospital. Word had spread about what we were doing, and doctors of all kinds wanted to see what was going on. I asked Khadija to create schedules or find a way where we could livestream the surgeries. But all of this was slowing us down, and we had to push to ensure our goals were met. We had our patients to think of.
Khadija finally somewhat got the mayhem under control. I couldn't take the distraction anymore. Karen could see my frustration building and did what she could to calm me down. After one particularly frustrating moment, she started singing, "Danny Boy", which she knew I listened to once in a while in my office back home. That brought an instant smile to my face and calmed me down. I winked at her in thanks and was again thankful for her presence.
We will soon be on our way back to Boston. On my way back to Calla. If she would have me.
The final surgery was coming to a close. It was a relatively straightforward surgery on a 68-year-old man with Parkinsons. We performed a deep brain stimulation surgery, implanting an electrode deep within his brain to try to control his tremors. The poor man had gotten to the point where he was having difficulty holding a cup to drink or even doing any self-care. I knew, if this surgery was successful, that we could significantly change this gentleman's life. He deserved to be able to hold his grandchildren or even his wife's hand.
Throughout the surgery, I thought about this man. He had come into the pre-surgery discussion with his wife and his two adult children. They asked thoughtful questions about recovery through the interpreter, and I started to get a picture of this man's life. What was clear was the love that surrounded this man. His wife adored him and his children were sure to advocate for his care. I realized all the riches in the world couldn't compensate for this kind of love; the love of your family and partner.
That's the kind of love I wanted.
And it wasn't about putting Floppy Dick permanently on the sidelines and having Perky Dick running around non-stop. It was having that companionship. Having someone look out for you, know where you were, care what you were doing. I had that with Calla; I was sure.
Yes, she wasn't as open as I wanted her to be, but who was I to dictate what "open" enough was? I could be closed. I could be too logical. She didn't try to change me. She accepted me the way I was. The teasing I got from others was always good-natured. I knew that the guys appreciated my quirks and allowed me to shine in ways I wanted to. They didn't want me to change myself. The only thing they had ever asked me to do was settle down.
And they were completely right.
As I wrapped up the surgery, I felt like my personal life was coming to a head. I needed to make some changes. On myself.
I needed to make things right with Calla.
"Good work, Dom." Karen was taking the instruments away and instructing the local nurses how to take care of the patient in the recovery room. Khadija acted as her interpreter. We had really become a well-oiled team over these past few days, and I would forever treasure the camaraderie that was created here.
A smile did indeed go a long way.
While Karen was gone, I took the scarf that was on the operating room door and tied it around my wrist again. Now that we were done our surgeries, I could put it on again. I looked at it carefully, finding it interesting that such a small token could offer us so much protection. Whatever the reason, I was thankful and so grateful that it had somehow just fallen into my lap.
When Karen was back in the break room, we set out the plan going forward. We needed to be at the airport in two hours. That would give us time to clean up, change our clothes, and finish packing up our personal belongings.
"Dr. Harrington?" I spun around to find a tall, thin man standing at the door. He looked slightly familiar. Perhaps one of the faces I had seen checking out the surgeries we did this past week.
"Yes, I'm Dr. Harrington."
"I'm Dr. Mohamed Talib. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The name was familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place it.
He stepped into the room and revealed a small package he had been holding behind his back.
He lifted it up to me. It was a small sculpture of a woman holding her lifeless child. Now I knew where I had seen his name. The Institute of Contemporary Art.
"Wait," I said, excitedly. I went to grab my phone and searched through the photos. I showed him the photo of his sculpture that I took when Calla and I visited. His face lit up.
"Yes, that is mine. This is a smaller model of it. I made it as I was planning the other one. I want to give it to you." He held out the small bronze piece.
"But, Dr. Talib. I couldn't possibly take it."
"Please. I would be honored. You have changed lives this week. Not only the patients you operated on, but all of us. We don't get many visitors and your presence gave us hope. Hope that we aren't forgotten by the world. Hope for the future and that we can someday be doing surgeries like this ourselves. I know Somalia is a place everyone is encouraged to stay away from. But you didn't. We have to also thank Dr. Al-Sawi for never forgetting his colleagues here. I hope you realize that we will never be the same because you have been here." He bowed slightly, offering me the sculpture.
