Mending Broken Hearts

25. Premonition

End-of-May 2020

Omar

"I can't wait to work with you," I told her on the phone, my heart beating faster with just the anticipation of finally seeing her that day. Even if it was in full personal protective gear, and the only thing I could see were her deep brown eyes. 

She paused, then simply said, "Good bye, Omar."

"I love you, Madi," I quickly muttered, but she had already hung up. "That's ok," I told the image in the mirror, "I know she loves me. She said it herself."

In that minimally furnished bedroom, I stood alone, donning a fresh pair of scrubs. The clock read 7 am. The sun was out in all its glory, casting a brilliant glow on the world beyond the walls. Yet, within the confines of this apartment, within this room, an oppressive darkness prevailed. As if the very essence of this place was missing. Perhaps it was a premonition of what lay ahead—shadows where I yearned for clarity, ache in lieu of joy, and emptiness when all I craved was her.

As I entered the hospital that day, she was already in the ICU, standing behind a glass partition. Just like the one I stood behind when I worked in my BSL3 lab. Her figure, facing away from me, was immediately recognizable—the neatly pulled-back ponytail, the confident posture. Yet, within that enclosure, so many others surrounded her too. 

Interns, residents, fellows, attendings, even a man wearing glasses with a computer in hand, and an older gentleman dressed in impeccable black trousers and a crisp blue shirt. They all crowded around her, each vying for her attention, seeking something from her, urging her to lend them a hand.

I looked around to see where the opening of that glass enclosure was, but I couldn't find it. I walked up and down around the glass wall but there was no door, or decontamination hatch. How was I supposed to get in there? I wondered. How did everyone else get in there? 

Raising my eyes, I found the throng of people had swelled, obscuring her from my view. A sinking feeling gripped my heart, beads of sweat formed on my forehead. There was no intercom, or speaker through which I could call her. Instead, I knocked loudly on the glass wall.

"Madi...Madi...let me in. Please...I am supposed to be there with you," I called out to her.

She didn't turn around, she didn't even spare a glance towards me. I could hear the noise inside the glass enclosure, I could even make out her sweet but commanding voice. Yet, she remained engrossed in all those around her, talking to them, laughing with them.

I knocked louder. I cried out on the top of my lungs, "Madi, turn around. I am outside, please let me in."

Suddenly everyone else disappeared, like a scene from a movie where the world fades away, leaving only her in the empty hallway. She turned around slowly, her beautiful eyes, framed by those long eyelashes looked at me. I couldn't see her face under her mask, but I could tell she was smiling at me. She held my gaze for a few seconds before looking down at a patient's chart that had COVID POSITIVE written on it in bold letters.

That's when I realized there were holes in her N95. Large, gaping holes that were expanding quickly, and were now in her gown and gloves and her white coat.

I frantically banged my fist on the glass wall, yelling "Madi, stop. Your protective gear is compromised."

She didn't respond, she didn't even look up at me again. She just turned towards the patient's room, opened the door and entered the black void. And then she was gone.

I screamed after her till my voice was hoarse.

"Madi, don't go in there, you'll get COVID."

"Madi, please, please listen to me."