**Diary Entry**
Ive been a doctor for years now, seen all sortstragic, joyful, downright odd. But one case from my early days still haunts me. It was the 1980s, fresh out of medical school, assigned to a small clinic in a quiet village. The place was surprisingly modern, the staff welcoming. Id barely settled in when something extraordinary happened.
One Friday, I arrived early to sort paperwork. The nurse, Margaret, hadnt arrived yet. Then the phone ranga boys voice, urgent.
“Dr. Edward! My mums dying! Elm Street, number 11. Please hurry!”
“Whats wrong with her?” I asked.
“Shes dying!” His voice cracked. “Call an ambulance!”
“No ones home but me. My sisters not back yet,” he whispered before the line went dead.
I rushed over. The door was ajar. Inside, a woman lay sprawled across the bed, deathly pale, an empty pill bottle nearby. Her pulse was faint. I called an ambulance, then stabilised her best I could. When the paramedics arrived, I liedsaid shed misjudged her medicationto spare her the stigma.
Neighbours gathered as she was carried out. One old woman muttered, “Must be her Tommy calling her. Drowned last month, poor lad.”
I frowned. “But she has two children. The boy mentioned a sister.”
“No, doctor. Only Tommy.”
At the clinic, Margaret gasped when I told her. “Thats Lydia, poor soul. Married late, doted on their boy. Losing him crushed them.” Then she frowned. “But our phone wasnt even connected yet.”
I stared at the receiverno cord.
Later, at the hospital, Lydia was stable but hollow-eyed. Her husband gripped my hand. “You saved her.”
Lydias voice was flat. “How did you know to come?”
I told her about the call. A tear slid down her cheek. “Tommy saved me.”
I squeezed her hand. “He wants you to live. He even mentioned a sister.”
She shook her head. “Doctors say I cant have more children.”
I left, heart heavy.
Five years later, Lydia returnedradiant, holding a little girl, her belly round with another. “This is Emily. She was waiting for us at the orphanage.” She smiled. “Tommy knew Id need her.”
Even now, I wonder: why me? Some things defy reason. But perhaps our duty isnt to understandjust to show up when called.
**Lesson:** The unseen tugs at us for reasons we may never grasp. Answer anyway.
