Day 24

“We do not have the facilities here to remove the bullet.” The male nurse in charge of the small health center the Masai warriors took me to told me after carefully examining David. He was a short plump nurse with a round and extremely oily face.

“Where can we get them?”

“The nearest hospital is about 100 kilometers from here.”

“He won’t make it.”

“Correct. And even if we were to try, the only available transport there is here only twice a week. It’s due tomorrow morning.”

“What do you do in the case of an emergency?” I asked panic rising in me.

He shrugged his shoulders. “This is Africa.”

I knew what he meant. In the case of an emergency the unlucky person just died. For years I had taken easy access to the best medical facilities in the world for granted. Now when I required it the most, I was in the middle of the bush in Africa and it was unavailable.

But I was not going to let David die on me as I watched. I had to do something, anything, to give him a fighting chance.

I carefully lifted the dressing the nurse had just placed on the wound and examined him myself for the first time. The nurse stared at me puzzled, wondering what I was going to do next. Actually I didn’t know myself yet, but desperate situations called for desperate solutions.

“Do you know exactly where the bullet is lodged?”

“Below the heart. From the slow bleeding, it can’t have seriously injured any vital organs. But then one can never be sure.”

“We’re going to remove the bullet.”

“What? I would not advice that,” the nurse said visible sweat showing on his forehead.

“Why?”

“Dangers of serious infection, and more important if the bullet has injured a vital organ, removing it without having a way of dealing with the heavy bleeding will kill him instantly.”

“Do you have a better idea?” I was shocked at how calm my voice sounded.

“I will not take responsibility for whatever happens.”

“Where do I sign, to get you off the hook?”

His hand was visibly shaking when we commenced the operation about 10 minutes later.

“Remember that I warned you against doing this,” he said yet again.

“I’ll remember that rather than just watching him die, we tried to do something.”

I resisted asking him whether he had ever done this sort of thing before. I was afraid that I was not going to be able to handle his answer to that question.

It appeared that the bullet was lodged too deep into the body to be reached. The nurse prodded a few times, each time I wouldn’t avoid wincing, and after a while it seemed to loosen a little. It was difficult to tell with all the bleeding that was going on. The bleeding greatly increased when the bullet was close to the surface.

The nurse suddenly stopped. He wiped sweat from his forehead and when he was through, his handkerchief was visibly soaking wet.

“I can’t go on, madam.”

“Why?”

“He’s bleeding too much. You know what that means.”

“What does it mean?”

“That the bullet must have damaged a vital organ. He’ll bleed to death if we remove it.”

“No. Just remove it. H-he’s bleeding a lot anyway.” I shouted at him.

He reluctantly continued to pull and prod at the bullet. When he finally yanked it out, David’s chest was literally flooded with his own blood. The nurse quickly disinfected the wound and tried to bandage it the best way he knew how.

I was now well aware that David’s chances of survival were extremely low, if not nil. I had no medical training but even I knew that he had lost far too much blood. He would not make it to the hospital when the vehicle turned up the following day to start a 100-kilometer journey through some of the worst roads I had ever seen.

Had I killed him? Why had I not taken the doctor’s advice and just waited. Maybe he would have had a better chance of surviving. In my desperation I had made a fatal mistake against medical advice.

I had already lost a million dollars. And now it looked like I was going to lose the only thing I had left? The man I loved so dearly and yet the man I had never made love to?

How was I going to live with myself after David’s death? How would I face life? I sunk my face into my hands in despair and quietly cried. I cried for David but most of all I cried for my miserable existence and myself. The only man who would have changed everything was now dying on me.
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One place that I would have loved to write this blog novel from is Orlando in Florida. This is by far the most popular holiday destination in the United States. The focus on family living has spurred residential development over the years on the edge of downtown called Baldwin Park, a traditional neighborhood with architecture reminiscent of the pre-1940's era in Central Florida. I'd have loved to do most of this blog novel from an Orlando Rental Home packed with tourists in the neighborhood. I'm told there is no way I would have avoided Buyers Broker of Florida, a unique exclusive Buyer Agency Office, in my real estate arrangements.