Oh, Dr. Andrew Collins, please, Im begging you! wailed the woman, collapsing dramatically at the feet of a tall man in a white coat. Tears streamed down her face as though they too were on the NHS waiting list and finally saw their chance. Behind the maze of faded consulting rooms and the ever-present smell of disinfectant, in the A&E of a sleepy English village hospital, her only child was fighting for his life.
Look, you must understand, I cant! I really cant! Its why I left London, remember? I havent operated for two years! My handthe conditions Dr. Collins voice trembled nearly as much as his protest.
Please, Im begging you! The woman was more persistent than those people who ring you about your cars accidents that never happened.
He has to agree. He simply must try, because if he doesnt
A few hurried steps, and they reached the wooden door, painted in that council-approved white. There he was: her darling boy, Michael. Wires everywhere, a plastic oxygen mask hiding his faded freckles. He was still breathing, just about. The blood oozing from under the bandage on his head was as thick and dark as the questionable plum jam from last years village fete. The green line on the heart monitor twitched in time with each desperate gasp.
It was pointless to hope for a transfer: miles of country lanes to the city, and the helicopter wouldnt come in this stormnatures way of laughing at the weather forecast. Michaels blood pressure was dropping, his hearts beat barely audible. The paramedics looked everywhere but at his mother.
Collins! barked an older nurse hovering beside the trolley. Dr. Andrew! She brandished yesterdays copy of the local paper, his face beaming next to a mob of grinning children. Tear-stained headlines blurred into a story of a car accident, a damaged hand, and a surgery gone wrong. But Collins was a legend, a miracle neurosurgeonat least according to the welcome committee in this rural outpost. All they needed now was an actual miracle.
I cant take that kind of responsibility! You have to understand! he tried to edge away. My last operation my wrist I failed! I dont operate anymore. I just cant!
Michaels face grew paler. The blood still looked like jam. Dr. Collins new colleagueswho, after a year, still felt like awkward flatmateshovered quietly in the doorway. The mother sobbed. Time was the enemy. And then, inexplicably, there was a dog.
A dog?!
Where did that come from?
In response, there was only the whimpering of a Labrador, straining against the lead, claws scraping frantically on the linoleum. The dog refused to leave Michaels side, eyes glued to the boy. No more whimperingonly ragged, desperate breaths.
Thats Loyal, choked the mother, Michaels dog. She forgot how to breathe for a moment when the doctor finally muttered:
Prep the theatre.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, and memories came flooding back. Another dog: Hope. His father, still alive then. Andrew was just plain Andy, in Year 7. Thered been a car crash on an icy New Years Eve, their old Ford dented in a snowy hedgerow like a bauble fallen from the Christmas tree. Mum was crying, and the local GP couldnt help. It was a complicated injury, and the hospital was so far away
Hope the dog had stopped whimpering by the graveside, just breathing heavily. She wouldnt eat for six days, just watched him. Then she was gone, following her owner, as if heartbreak was catching.
Ill become a neurosurgeon, Mum. I promised Hope Id be the very best. Do you believe me? Andy had whispered to the quiet mound of earth.
How could he have forgotten? And why?
*****
In the theatre, the lamps blazed like little suns. The tools glinted steelily. His wrist ached, but he ploughed on. Maybe I should get myself a new dog, he thought vaguely, which wouldve tickled his old therapist. Fingers felt wooden. It didnt matterhe tucked in and started. The injury was awful, complex. The pressure was dropping; the swelling needed to be kept at bay. The fractured bone had to be pieced together like his uncles ancient jigsaw. He would never have made it to the city in time.
The eyes of the assisting local nurses sparkledthis was, to them, a miracle unfolding. Collins had done thousands before, but self-doubt clung like hospital tea stains. After one mistake, hed left it all, cut every tie. His wrist throbbed. In the shadows, he thought he saw Hope, or perhaps that determined Labrador, poised beside its boy. Loyal.
Holding the clamp was agony. Fingers threatened to seize, but he refused to let go. Just a little more, Michael. Breathe. Dont you dare give up. Not on my watch.
Time, at last, tipped in their favour. Was that the distant thrum of a helicopter, incredibly, making it through?
*****
Dr. Collins was clearing up when the night nurse popped her head round the door, beaming uncontrollably.
Theyre all asking for you, Dr. Collins! That was the talk of the entire hospital these days. Children were being shipped in from all corners of the countyeveryone felt safe again, because Dr. Collins and his golden hands were back. Laughter echoed along the ward once more. New parents followed him around like a bad smell, but sweeter.
Give me five minutesIll just check on Max, he said, striding down the corridor to the six-year-olds room.
Max was a hilarious little ginger lad who called him Uncle Andy. Hed fallen from a second-storey window last week while visiting London and needed his skull reassembled, piece by piece. Eight hours in theatre, and Collins had managedeven his wrist barely grumbled now. Must be all the laughter on the ward curing him, he mused drolly.
It was good, he decided, that hed come back. Should have done it sooner, but perhaps hed just needed the right push. Life has a way of shaking you by the shoulders. One of these days, hed actually get a doghe kept meaning to, no time yet. He often wondered how Loyal and Michael were getting on.
Dr. Collins, dear!
Speak of the devil! He barely made it to the staff exit before the old crowd marched in.
Well, hello there, Michael, Natalie, he laughed. And you too, Loyal!
His hand itched to stroke that plush head. A wet nose poked his palm, and those chocolate-brown eyes looked at him with uncannily intelligent concern.
What brings you here then? Is Michael all right? Check-up, is it?
Oh, Michaels absolutely grand! Natalie was so cheerful her coat nearly burst. Her eyes shone suspiciously. Collins wanted to ask, but the dog kept twirling in circles, distracting him.
Here!
Michael, now a little taller, couldnt contain himself. He wriggled behind his mums coat, producing something small and black, floppy-eared and whining with puppy excitement.
Er…? Collins voice faded, as he realised hed forgotten how to speak English.
Dont be cross, Dr. Collins! Michael stammered. Loyal found him. Mum let us keep him. And then yesterday, you were on the telly, and when Loyal heard your voice, he dragged the puppy to the screen. So we thought, you know
You thought absolutely right! Collins winked at the pairand the dog. Ill name him Stimulus. Or Timmy for short.The puppy barked, a quick, shivery squeakthen leapt straight into Collinss arms as if hed always belonged there. Loyal gave a companionable wag, as if to say, “He’s yours now, you old fool.” And in that sunlit corridor, with Natalie dabbing her eyes and Michael grinning until his freckles nearly joined together, Dr. Collins finally let that heaviness in his chest dissolve.
He scratched behind the puppys earsnew hope, damp-nosed and wrigglingand found, for the first time in years, he wasnt afraid of his own hands.
Outside, the storm had passed. The world smelled fresh and alive. Tomorrows worries could wait; for now, there was wagging, laughter, the hum of busy wards, and the promise of one more life to care forhis own, at last, included.
And as the two dogsone old, one impossibly youngtrotted after him into the gentle spring daylight, Dr. Collins realized he had reached not the end, but a most unexpected and joyful beginning.
