Flashback
Part Four
By Pebbles
Pebbles@ukgateway.net
Rated NC-17 for language and sexual content.
I have no idea how long I have been in the ICU. Whilst I am completely linked up by
tubes and wires to God knows what medical machinery there is no pattern to the day, like
meal times to judge the passage of time by. With my eyes covered by bandages I cannot tell
night from day and I have only the different voices of the staff who attend me to provide
variety.
There is constant activity. People talk over me – sometimes about me but very
often they are sharing gossip or bitching about colleagues. But above all there is a
complete aura of calm and efficiency. It is nothing like the hospital at Zenica
We arrive at the hospital at Zenica by eleven in the morning, it being only a short
drive from our overnight camp. It is an industrial town dominated by the steelworks but it’s
setting in a beautiful valley by the river Bosnia tempers its harshness. The hospital
itself is of just average size but it has become the centre of relief activity for many
aid organisations. The traffic around the hospital is horrendous and it takes ages for us
to find where we are supposed to park.
Every building around the hospital is full to overflowing with the refugees who flock
here from all directions. The atmosphere is one of barely organised chaos. And everywhere
there are children who look lost and forlorn, their faces thin and hollow eyed.
I have spent a sleepless night worrying about Dugi but Zarko has assured me that his
vitals are fine and, in contrast, he has had a very restful night with apparently no
nightmares. I try to persuade Dugi to come into the hospital to be checked over properly
but he shakes his head vehemently and walks off to help with the unloading of our
supplies. I stare at his back as he strides away.
Frustrated, after the progress I thought we had made yesterday I decide to join Elaine
and Mrs Barton on ‘the tour’. We have been invited by the chief of staff
Nicholaus Tomic to see round the hospital. We are of course interested in the work they
are doing but to be honest the possibility of getting a decent hot shower is even more of
a draw.
“Did you know that in 1991, before the outbreak of hostilities, there were only
thirty three certified emergency specialists in Bosnia?” Nicholaus is now well into
his lecture and nods at us – obviously not expecting a reply to this revelation.
“So, during the summer of 1993, the International Medical Corps initiated training
for physicians and nurses in trauma resuscitation and emergency care. And in January 1994,
the first hospital-based Emergency Department in the Balkans was opened here in Zenica
Hospital.”
There is no doubt that they are becoming victims of their own success as the number of
patients flocking through their doors threatens to overwhelm them. Mrs Barton is very
excited by it all and full of questions about the kind of supplies that they need.
Later, over lunch in the canteen I tell Nicholaus about Dugi and how he was injured and
that he won’t come into the hospital to be checked over. He reassures me that, as his
Glasgow Coma score has been OK from the outset it is unlikely that there will be any
serious repercussions. He does however warn me to watch out for any dizziness, blurred
vision, nausea or mood-swings, as they would indicate possible inter-cranial bleeding. I
write all of this down so that I won’t forget.
“Why is that?” I ask, in my innocence.
“So,” having caught my attention he continues “your friend - he is most
likely suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. You need to get him some help.”
He smiles at me encouragingly, his eyes full of compassion.
“Yes, of course. What do you suggest?”
“Well, our resources here are fully stretched just trying to deal with physical
injuries. I would suggest taking him abroad – if you can. There are some good
facilities in Italy. I can give you the address of a hospital in Bologna. Its program is
highly recommended.” He pats my arm and I can’t help thinking what a good man he
is – to hang on to his humanity when surrounded by such horror.
Later, as I am leaving the hospital to find Elaine, Nicholaus calls after me.
“Sarah!”
I turn and wait for him to catch up with me.
“Be careful. I’m no psychiatrist but three and a half years is a long time to
be in such a state. He is a time-bomb, just waiting to go off.” He squeezes my
shoulder and I nod.
“I’ll be careful.”
When I return to the vehicles they are completely unloaded of their supplies and Zarko
and Dugi are nowhere to be seen. I wander around for a while before finally finding them
in the compound of the Orphanage. Zarko is telling a story and quite a crowd has gathered
to listen. It must be a story that they are familiar with as several of the children are
calling out responses. It also involves a lot of actions – Zarko makes quite a sight
on his hands and knees growling like a dog!
Dugi sits nearby on a log bench. Small children surround him and one has climbed on his
lap. There is a far away look in his eyes as he rests his chin on the top of the small boy’s
head. I watch from a distance. When the story is over and Zarko gets up to leave he
is mobbed by the children who obviously want more. I see Dugi give the little boy a tight
hug before putting him down. A single tear escapes from his eye and runs down his cheek
before he sweeps it away with the back of his hand.
As they walk towards the gate Dugi catches my eye and I know that he realises I have
seen him weep. He goes to walk right past me but I impulsively take hold of his hand. He
turns to look down at me - his eyes are almost black with emotion. “I’m so
sorry.” I squeeze his hand tight. “I wish I could take away your pain.” I
realise that my words are woefully inadequate. What do I know about his pain? - Except
that it has taken him over and almost extinguished him.
He lifts my hand to his cheek where the tears have dried and nods almost imperceptibly.
Then as suddenly he drops my hand, turns away abruptly and strides off. I bury my face in
my hands – I feel so out of my depth.
“What’s the matter my pretty one?” It is Zarko’s friendly
voice. When I don’t answer he places one of his arms around my shoulder. “Don’t
be upset. You are doing so well with him. Why, he is eating more and sleeping better than
I have ever known. You are doing very well.” He grins at me and his warmth is hard to
resist.
“I just want him to be better but I don’t know how.” A sigh escapes my
lips. “He needs professional help Zarko. We need to get him out of this war zone.”
“I know, I know.” Zarko sighs too. “I think now he might be ready to
accept help. And it is you who have broken down the first barriers.” As we walk
together he tells me of his plan to take Dugi back to the Adriatic coast with him directly
after this mission. “I believe he comes from that area. One day I found him with a
crumpled old postcard of Primosten – it’s a little town not far from Sibenik. He
had been keeping it in his pocket a long time. It is a clue – I think.”
“Dr Tomic said there was a good program for people who have suffered like Dugi in
Italy. He gave me details of the hospital and a letter of referral. Do you think we could
take him there?”
Zarko thinks for a while. “Yes! This is a great idea – we shall all go to
Italy!” He makes it sound like a holiday and, despite myself I find myself grinning.
He musses my hair like he would a child. “That’s better. I like to see your
pretty smile!”
“Sarah, it’s a really bad idea. I should have known you’d get all
emotional and irrational.” She chucks the dirty nappy to one side angrily ”I
guess it’s my fault for bringing you.”
I bite back the angry response that first comes to mind. I hate being patronised
especially by my older sister but I don’t want to give her any further ammunition as
to my emotional state. I take a few deep breaths. “It might not be the most
rational response to – to all this. But it’s something that I can do to help one
person. I’d like to see it through.”
“Bullshit!” Elaine explodes. “You think that just because he lets you
hold his hand you’re fucking Florence Nightingale!” She roughly shoves Sophie’s
legs back into her sleepsuit.
“Quite honestly I don’t care what you think! I’m not asking you to come
with us – just tell Mum and Dad I’ll be back in a few weeks. I’ll phone
from Italy.” I walk off before I say anymore. I reach in my pocket for a cigarette
and, finding a quiet spot under a tree sit down with my back against it.
The ritual of lighting up already starts to calm my nerves and I try and justify my
stance to myself. I only met him three – no two - days ago and I know almost nothing
about him. He could be a murderer for all I know – sent half-mad by his own actions.
But my instincts tell me otherwise and his actions – saving Zarko from the fire for
example – are not those of a cold-blooded killer. The way he responds to Sophie and
the children here at Zenica – well I’m sure that he has children of his own. Or
did have.
I hope I am not making a huge mistake. Nicholaus warned me to be careful and I’m
well aware that I am going out on a limb. It’s just I feel like I have made a
connection and, if I turn my back now I would be slamming the door shut and Dugi might
never escape from his personal hell. Or am I just being melodramatic? I have no special
talents – he could be ready to open up to any friendly person. Don’t kid
yourself Sarah – I tell myself - you have nothing special to offer.
I do as I am told and although I feel like I am going to heave it is a huge relief when
it is gone. I take a small sip of the water that is held to my lips and then lie back and
rest.
But there is no chance of that. After a light lunch of some non-descript soup and some
Jello – which thankfully I manage to keep down, Dr DeRaad arrives. He is a
psychiatrist and his presence only strengthens my resolve. They are the scum of the earth
and there is no way I am breaking my silence to talk to him!
End of part 4