Some days are always longer than others; some drag on, and yet some seem to be over in a heartbeat. With that heartbeat, it is not uncommon for many heartbeats to be lost in those days. Of all that I am tasked to do, and that my fellow colleagues are made to do, there are many things that we wish we never have to say. There are many things we wish we would never have to hear, let alone watch as they occur in front of our eyes. But, when these things happen, and I can’t do a damn thing about it but try, and try... yet, I fail. I fail those who put their trust in me, and the trust in the people around them. I failed them, their future. Hospitals are viewed as healing ports by many; and often what goes unseen the most is the amount of death that coats these white walls.
The second you start blaming yourself for ponies’ death, there is no coming back.
I remember that night like no other. A rather quiet night, a few broken bones and some stitches, but nothing major as far a I can remember. Times fly by us, until those trying moments break the walls and shatter our reality. I could see it in his eyes, and deep into his wifes. That pain, and anxiety flowing out through their tears. Her breath was sporadic, almost as if she was hyperventilating as she clutched her gut, holding it tight as she whispered to it softly. She had obviously been pregnant, but it was as soon as I saw her walk through the Emergency Room entrance that I had known something was severely out of order. Drip, after drop of blood onto the yellowed white tiles, following this pony as she ran in, accompanied by what I presume was her husband.
Mr. Smiles, was his name if I remember correctly. He stayed by her side as long as he could, before we eventually lined her onto a stretcher, the fear in her eyes penetrating our own as she reached back for Smiles, the tears flowing down her cheeks and onto the stretcher, a small pool of blood forming towards her feet.
I ran with her, holding onto the stretcher and my other hoof feeling her stomach to make a diagnosis before we reached the operating room. As I looked back towards the set of double doors that separated the general hospital from the restricted, I saw Mr. Smiles. He wasn’t alone, however, but rather accompanied by two security guards holding him back. That scream as he called to his wife, and the fear of loss that penetrated his deep blue eyes... it struck to my very soul that night. I could feel the chills run through me as his blood curdling screams faded behind me.
Surgeons, nurses, doctors, and myself. It wasn’t very long, but soon after she realized that Smiles was no longer at her side, she screamed and tossed about, trying to get back to him. there was nothing else that could be done beside just... sedating her. I tried to calm her, we tried to hold her down. But we just needed each and every pony to help save the child. And by Celestia’s name, as she looked over us that day - she knew we tried. And I knew deep down, in the back of my mind that it was my fault that all of this had happened to them.
Soon after I had cleaned the operating room, and washed the massive amounts of blood off of my scrubs, and the stretchers... and the walls... I carried a bundle out with me, wrapped completely with a few blood stains soaking through the sky blue hospital blanket.
There was so much blood...
After I had taken that bundle where it had needed to go, one of my fellow nurses brought Mr. Smiles to me; and I would have to break the news to him. It was in his eyes; the deepest worry I had ever seen from any pony that had been between these cold walls. And yet, he tried to believe that everything was okay. But now... Now, it was my turn to tell him the things that he had never wanted to hear. The very thing that would shake any father to their core, and destroy the strongest of men.
That day, we would be adding a new number to these walls. A number that should have never been added, had I done the right thing and not murdered that poor child... Others told me that it wasn’t my fault, and that it was unavoidable. But I know otherwise, and I know I could have saved that child.
She, the child, was far too young; the mother depressed to the deepest extend knowing her child would never make it to this world. I just wish I could have done more.
For me, it is far too late.
We often wonder why we are brought into this world, and why we are chosen to do what we do. At times, I wonder. I wonder about why my profession is what it is, yet I seem to kill everyone I touch at times. Death could be thanking me for doing his job, as I give him the life of pony after pony. And sadly, child after child. There is one number that I don’t remember, that of how many ponies I have saved. Seemingly in its own wake, there lies the number of those that died under my knife, and under the care of my own hoof. Who am I to be called a doctor, when death is what I bring to those who entrust me with life.
The moment you start blaming yourself for the death of others, you have lost the battle.
I may have lost the battle, but with this rope, I shall win the war and end this torment. To whom ever reads this, whenever it may be - let him know that I am ever so sorry for his loss...
But he may be happy to know that I am no longer of this world, and that I will watch over his young one.
