It was December 13th 2018, around 10:15pm. I was exhausted, emotionally drained by the past weeks events. However, I had to remain up to nebulize my cute and bright 2-year-old son, Kélan, who had been admitted to the hospital 3 days ago. As I looked at him, tears rolled out from my eyes making it way onto the forgotten shirt that I was wearing.
The tears were for my little prince Kélan whose dad like him was hospitalized but miles away in another man’s land.
As I looked at a tear splashing onto the forgotten shirt the events of the past weeks came crashing down on me.
It was Saturday the 1st of December, at around 2:30 when I received that dreadful unknown call.
The words I remembered where “freak accident”, “leg hurt”, “it’s bad”, “ambulance”, “PMH”.
I screamed as I dropped my phone. “Did I really just hear those words or was it just some type of nightmare?” I thought to myself. I only remembered my oldest son telling me that he was coming with me.
When the ambulance arrived, a few of his friends were already there. Then I saw him. He was on a stretcher. I could see the pain on his beautiful face. My heart broke into thousands of pieces. And all I could think of was Lord please just let him be okay. Here it was that such a loving man who had taken care of so many people ‘s health was now on his back in what looked like excruciating pain.
At first, it looked like it was just a broken leg. There were a few bruises but nothing which says that “it was bad” as the caller had mentioned over the phone.
But that night was one to never be forgotten. It was the night our lives were going to change.
I went through the different steps in a daze. X-ray checked. Scan checked. Or was it the other way around?
Then those famous words from the doctor. We will be keeping him for the night for observation. The scan didn’t show nothing much. So it seems like it was great news. I walked behind him as he was wheeled towards Alford Ward.
I stepped out of the ward to update his family who resides in the States when one of his friends ran out crying. I looked at her and knew something was wrong.
“Sam! Sam!” that all she could say a ghostly look on her face or that’s all I could hear. I ran in to see what was happening but the nurses pushed me away. The doctors are working on him said one of them. Working on him? What do they mean by that? Please let me see him! Pleease!!!
Then fifteen minutes later I was allowed to see him and touch him. But then something weird happened. So I screamed. “Nurse! Nurse! Sam!”
Why were they pushing me away again? I saw the doctors and nurses through my blurred eyes as one of them escorted me out.
Moments later three doctors asked to speak to me. They were clear. I had a family to report back to.
They had just gotten the x-ray results which showed that Sam had an open book pelvic fracture. The worse kind said the doctor. He would need surgery but it couldn’t be done in Dominica. He was also bleeding internally they added. They were going to send him for a CT scan and then move him to ICU.
It took forever before I could finally see him at ICU. I agreed to sign a document which would allow the doctor to operate on him to stop the bleeding which was taking place in his liver. Please just get him better. Please.
The doctors were checking up on him. His cousin stayed with me. I was then advised to go home and take a rest as I would need my strength later. It was already after two in the morning he was going to go into surgery, and I wouldn’t have been able to see him anyway.
So I went home. Took a warm bathe. Then went to bed. Hugged our little prince. Whispered a prayer. And waited for a sleep which never came.
What a painful Sunday it was! The hospital was crowded with family, friends, his patients, colleagues, well-wishers, neighbors and politicians from all across the political spectrum who came to lend support to Sam. Dominica was waking up to the news that Dr. Sam Christian had been in an accident and his life depended on God. We were all painfully awaiting the arrival of a helicopter who would take him away to Martinique for better care. He had been unstable. He was losing so much blood. If they couldn’t stabilize him enough then he would not be able to take the helicopter. And then the harsh reality.
“If we don’t fly him over soon we will lose him!” Said his fellow colleague and friend.
The waiting for the helicopter was horrible. His niece, his sister in law and I were reporting to the other families in the States.
The phones were going crazy. Everybody was praying. Thousands of Dominicans and people around the world were praying. And God heard their prayers. God heard your prayers.
After a long heart-wrenching wait for the helicopter. It finally arrived.
The unknown of what was going on in Martinique was unbearable till I arrived at the hospital the next day.
When I saw him, my heart skipped a beat. I fell in love all over again. He was alive! God did hear your prayers!
Here he was in this spotless white room in the ICU in Martinique. Dr. Sam Christian, the caring, loving, giving and patient physician was now a patient himself. All the love he had given was coming back to him ten-fold.
I learnt that upon his arrival in Martinique he underwent emergency surgery. The Martiniquans doctors had been able to stop the bleeding immediately with a single screw going through his pelvic bones.
The following week he was going to have his third surgery and another. He had to learn to sit, stand and walk again. It was going to be a long, expensive, slow journey towards recovery.
Almost two weeks later. I was at the PMH, near the ICU, in the children’s ward with our son Kélan who had gotten a pneumonia due to the flu.
The rain was pouring outside as I was nebulizing him. Upon my return from Martinique I hadn’t have time to do my laundry. So that Thursday morning I had quickly put into a small bag a forgotten shirt left behind by Sam’ s sister upon her visit several weeks ago.
In the evening as my tired self was crying while nebulizing my son. Tears ran down my cheek falling on the forgotten shirt.
Why was this shirt forgotten? Was it part of the Master’s plan? Did God know that I would have needed a shirt?
This just told me that everything happens for a reason! Even a forgotten shirt plays an important role in the master’s plan.
This gives me faith that Sam will be okay. He will make it. God knew that I would need an outfit Therefore he made sure there was a forgotten shirt!
Written by Edith Francois
