The Doctor Who Was An Angel

854 Words4 Pages
For the last 20 years and counting, I’ve concluded she was an angel: the doctor who found me in my hospital room bleeding to death, in the wee hours after my double mastectomy reconstruction surgery. She was the shadow standing beside my bed; who shook me and said, “You’re bleeding internally. You have to go back to surgery.” With the little strength I had left in me, I did all the shadow asked of me. Like in the operation room when I was too near death to be given anesthesia, I swallowed the tube she asked me to swallow, like a champ, and without choking on it, one bit. When it was all over, several days later, and I had regained consciousness, there was a sweet-smiling-lady-doctor, no longer a shadow, who stood in the midst of my three doctors. “Who are you? Where did you come from?” I asked the sweet-smiling-face behind golden rimmed glasses. “From Chicago,” she responded to me, facetiously. “No,” I plead. “Where did you really come from?” Which she did answer, but said, “Get some rest. You’ve been through a lot. We’ll talk soon.” (Fast Forward) I learned a few days after my surgery that I had lost over half of the blood in my body, and that I should have died. And had it not have been for this shadow/ this doctor, I would have. But where did she come from? She was not my doctor. She had no right or reason to come into my hospital room. But one day she came alone and visited me in my hospital room. And that day she told me the most
Open Document