A Boy from Beyond Saved His Mother
A little boy rang me, begging me to save his dying mother. She was savedbut it turned out the boy, Max, who called me had been buried a month earlier…
Im a doctor. Over the years, Ive seen all kinds of casessome sad, some joyful, some downright strange. But one story, perhaps the most extraordinary, has stayed with me.
This happened early in my career, in the 1980s. Fresh out of medical school, I was assigned to a rural clinic. I expected a rundown building but found a brand-new facility. The staff welcomed me warmly. I was over the moon!
The first week passed without incident, though patients kept me busy late into the night. One Friday, I arrived early to sort through paperwork before my shift. The nurse, Mary, hadnt arrived yet. Just as I settled in, the phone rang.
I picked up and heard a boys voice: Dr. James! My mums really ill! Hill Street, number 11. Please hurry!
Whats wrong with her? I asked.
Shes dying! he whispered.
Dying? What happened? Call an ambulance!
No ones home but me. My sisters not back yet, he murmured before the line went dead.
I grabbed my coat and rushed to the address. The door was ajar. Hello? The doctors here! No answer. Inside, I found a woman sprawled across the bed, her face pale and hidden beneath tangled dark hair. Her skin was icy, but a faint pulse flickered. An empty pill bottle lay nearbyshed taken a lethal dose. Suicide cases were new to me, but time was critical. I called an ambulance from the bedside phone and did what I could until they arrived.
When the medics wheeled her out, neighbours crowded around.
Will she make it? an old woman asked.
Shell recover, I said firmly.
The woman sighed. Must be her Max calling her. Her boy drowned. Been nearly a month since the funeral.
But she has other childrena boy and a girl, I said.
She shook her head. Only ever had the one.
That was odd. Who called me? And who was the sister the boy mentioned?
Back at the clinic, Mary gasped. Dr. James! Whereve you been? I was worried! I told her the strange tale.
I know that family, she said sadly. Lydia, the mothersuch a kind soul. She and her husband waited years for a child. When Max came, they adored him. Why must good people suffer so? Her voice wavered. Then she frowned. But how did they call you? Our clinics phone line isnt even connected yet.
What? I stared at the phonethen noticed it had no cord.
Had a dead boy really called me on a disconnected line? The rest of the day, I couldnt stop thinking about it. After work, I visited Lydia in hospital.
Her husband gripped my hand. Thank you, Doctor. Without you, shed be gone. Lydia, though, gazed blankly out the window.
How did you know to come? she asked flatly.
I told her about the call. A tear rolled down her cheek. Max saved me.
I squeezed her hand. Your son wants you to live. Otherwise, he wouldnt have called! Hold onfor him. He even mentioned a sister waiting for you.
She shook her head. The doctors say I cant have children now. She turned away, weeping.
I left, my own eyes stinging. I never visited again, sensing my presence pained her. But the story haunted me.
Five years later, during a routine shift, Lydia and her husband walked in. She glowed, one hand resting on her rounded belly, the other holding a little girl.
Meet our daughter, Emma, she said, beaming. The girl peeked shyly from behind her skirt. If not for you, I wouldnt be this happy. Your words stayed with me. After I recovered, we went to an orphanage. Emma was on the steps, as if waiting. Thenthis miracle. She touched her stomach.
Years have passed, but I still wonder: Why did Max choose me? Perhaps love reaches farther than we know, and hope lingers where we least expect it.
