The Boy from Beyond Saved His Mum
A little boy called me, pleading to save his dying mother. She was savedbut later, I found out the boy, Max, who rang me, had been buried a month earlier. Im a doctor. Over the years, Ive seen all sortsheartbreaking, joyful, downright bizarre. But one story stuck with me like glue, the strangest of them all.
This happened at the start of my career, back in the early 1980s. Fresh out of medical school, Id been assigned to a small-town clinic. I expected some crumbling, Dickensian hovel, but instead, I got a shiny new building. The staff welcomed me warmlyI was over the moon! The first week passed uneventfully, though patients kept me busy till late.
That Friday, I arrived early, hoping to tidy my paperwork in peace before the morning rush. The nurse, Emily, hadnt arrived yet. But just as I settled in, the phone rang.
I picked up to a boys bright voice: «Dr. James! My mums really poorly! Its 11 Oak Laneplease hurry!»
«Whats wrong with her?» I asked.
«Shes dying!» he whispered.
«Dying? From what? Call an ambulance!» I said, alarmed.
«No ones home but me. My sisters not back yet,» he mumbledthen the line went dead.
Ghostly rescues aside, I threw on my coat and dashed to the address. Fifteen minutes later, I was there. The door was ajar. «Hello? The doctors here!» No reply. Inside, a woman lay slumped across the bed, her face deathly pale beneath tangled brown hair. Her wrist was icy, but the pulse was faint. An empty pill bottle nearby spelled troublesuicide attempt. First-timer for me, but no time to panic. I called an ambulance, then did what I could until they arrived.
When the paramedics wheeled her out, nosy neighbours had gathered.
«Shes not gone, has she?» clucked an old woman.
«Shell pull through,» I said firmly.
The woman sighed. «Must be her Max calling her. Poor lad drowned. Been a month now.»
«But shes got two kidsa boy and girl?» I said.
The old lady shook her head. «Only ever had the one. Thats all.»
Waitwhat? Whod phoned me, then? And what sister? No time to dwellclinic hours loomed. Back at work, Emily gasped, «Dr. James! Whereve you been? I was worried sick!» I spilled the bizarre tale.
«I know that family,» she said sadly. «Lydias her name. Lovely woman. They waited years for Max, doted on him. And now this» Her voice wavered. Then she frowned. «But howd they ring you? Our phone lines not even connected yet.»
«What? But the phones right» I froze. Emily lifted the receiver. No cord.
So a dead boy called me on a dead line? Maybe *I* needed a doctor. Yet Id *spoken* to him.
That evening, I visited Lydia in hospital. Her husband gripped my hand. «Thank you, Doctor. You saved her.» Lydia, though, stared blankly out the window.
«How did you come to our house?» she murmured.
I told her about the call. A tear slid down her cheek. «Max saved me.»
I squeezed her hand. «Your boy wants you to live. Fight for him! He even mentioned a sister!»
She shook her head. «Doctors said I cant have more children.» She turned away, weeping.
I left, heart heavy, and didnt visit again. But I couldnt shake the story.
Five years later, mid-winter, a knock interrupted my clinic. In walked Lydia and her husbandradiant, grinning, a little girl clutching her skirt. «Doctor, meet our daughter, Lucy.» The child peeked shyly. Lydias eyes shone. «You saved me. Your wordsthey stuck. After I left hospital, we went to an orphanage. Lucy was waiting on the steps. Then a miracle.» She patted her rounded belly.
Years on, I still wonder: Whyd Max pick *me*? And how? Some mysteries even a doctor cant explain.
