A Boy from Beyond Saved His Mum
A little boy called me, begging me to save his dying mum. She was savedbut later, I found out the boy, Max, whod phoned me had been buried a month earlier. Im a doctor. Over the years, Ive seen all sortsheartbreaking, joyful, downright odd cases. But this one? Unforgettable.
This happened early in my career, back in the 1980s. Fresh out of medical school, Id been assigned to a small-town clinic. I expected a crumbling dump, but it was brand-new, and the staff were lovely. Bliss! The first week was uneventfulif you count seeing patients till midnight uneventful. That Friday, I arrived early to sort paperwork before the chaos. The nurse, Sarah, wasnt in yet.
Then the phone rang.
A boys voice, bright and urgent: *»Dr. James! My mums really ill! Elm Street, number 11. Please hurry!»*
*»Whats wrong with her?»* I asked.
*»Shes dying!»* he whispered.
*»Dying? How? Call an ambulance!»*
*»Theres no one home but me. My sisters not back yet.»* The line went dead.
I grabbed my coat and bolted. Fifteen minutes later, I pushed open the unlocked door. *»Anyone here?»* Silence. Inside, a woman lay half-off the bed, ghostly pale under tangled hair. Her wrist was icy, but*there*a faint pulse. An empty pill bottle rolled on the floor. Suicide attempt. Id never dealt with one before. Every second counted. I dialled 999 from the landline, then stabilised her best I could.
The ambulance arrived quickly. To spare her the psych ward (they didnt fuss over suicide cases back then), I fibbed: *»She misjudged her medication, panicked, and called me.»* As they carried her out, nosy neighbours clustered around.
*»Doctor, is she dead?»* an old woman asked.
*»Shell recover,»* I said firmly.
The woman sighed. *»Its her Max calling her, I reckon. Her boy drowned. Buried him a month ago.»*
*»But she has other childrena boy and girl,»* I said.
*»No, just the one.»*
Wait*what?* Whod phoned me? And what sister? No time to ponder. The clinic opened in five minutes.
Sarah gasped when I rushed in. *»Dr. James! Whereve you been? I was worried!»* I spilled the bizarre tale.
*»I know that family,»* she said softly. *»Lydialovely woman. She and her husband couldnt have children for years. When Max came along, they doted on him. Whyd they lose their only child?»* Her voice wobbled. Then she frowned. *»But howd they call you? The clinics phone line isnt connected yet.»*
*»What? Its right there»* I pointed. Sarah lifted the receiver. No cord.
So a dead boy rang a dead phone? Was *I* the one needing a doctor? Yet Id *spoken* to him.
Later, I visited Lydia in hospital. Her husband gripped my hand. *»Thank you, Doctor. Without you, my Lydia would be gone.»* Lydia herself 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 son wants you to live. Otherwise, he wouldnt have called me! Fight for his memory! He even mentioned a sistermaybe theres hope?»*
She shook her head. *»The doctors said I cant have children now.»* She turned away, crying. I left, heart heavy.
Five years later, during a snowy winter clinic day, the door creaked open. There stood Lydiaradiant, grinning, one hand resting on her rounded belly, the other holding a little girls hand. *»Doctor, meet our daughter, Emily.»* The girl hid behind Lydias skirt.
*»If not for you,»* Lydia said, eyes shining, *»I wouldnt be this happy. Your words stayed with me. After I recovered, we went to an orphanage. Emily was on the steps, like shed been waiting. Thats when I knew why Max didnt let me die. And then»* She patted her stomach. *»…a miracle.»*
Years have passed, but I still wonder: Why me? Why did a boy from beyond pick *me* to help?
