A Boy from Beyond Saved His Mother
A small boy called me, pleading to save his dying mother. She was saved, but later, I discovered the boy, Max, who had phoned me, had been buried a month earlier. Im a doctor. Over the years, Ive seen all sorts of casessad, joyful, peculiar. But one, perhaps the most astonishing, has stayed with me.
This happened early in my career, in the 1980s. Fresh out of medical school, I was assigned to a village clinic. I expected a rundown shack, but found a brand-new facility. The staff welcomed me warmly. I was thrilled. The first week passed without incident, though patients kept me busy till late.
One Friday, I arrived early to tidy my paperwork before consultations began. The nurse, Margaret, hadnt arrived yet. As I settled in, the telephone rang.
I picked up and heard a bright, boyish voice: *”Dr. Edward! My mums ill! Elm Street, number 11. Please come quick!”*
*”Whats wrong?”* I asked.
*”Shes dying!”* he whispered.
*”How? Call an ambulance!”*
*”Theres no one home but me. My sister isnt back yet,”* he murmured before the line went dead.
I threw on my coat and rushed to the address. The door was ajar. *”Anyone here?”* No answer. Inside, a woman lay slumped across the bed, her face pale beneath tangled dark hair. Her wrist was icy, but a faint pulse fluttered. An empty pill bottle rolled on the flooran overdose. Id never dealt with suicide before. Time was slipping. I dialled 999 from the bedside phone.
The paramedics arrived swiftly. To spare her involuntary commitment, I claimed shed misjudged her medication and called for help. As they carried her out, neighbours clustered around.
*”Will she pull through?”* an old woman asked.
*”Shell recover,”* I said firmly.
The woman sighed. *”Must be her Max calling her. Poor lad drowned. Buried a month ago.”*
*”But she has two childrena boy and girl,”* I said.
*”No, love. Only ever had the one.”*
Who had phoned me? Who was this sister the boy mentioned? I hurried backclinic hours were starting.
Margaret gasped. *”Dr. Edward! Whereve you been?”* I recounted the bizarre morning.
*”I know that family,”* she said softly. *”Lydias a kind soul. They waited years for Maxdoted on him. Whyd they lose their only child?”* Her voice wavered. Then she frowned. *”But how did they ring you? Our clinics phone isnt even wired yet.”*
*”What?”* I stared at the receiver. Only then did I noticeno cord.
Had a dead boy called me on a dead line? Was I losing my mind? Yet Id spoken to him.
That evening, I visited Lydia in hospital. Her husband gripped my hand. *”Thank you, Doctor. You saved her.”* Lydia gazed blankly out the window.
*”How did you find us?”* she asked flatly.
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. He even spoke of a sistermaybe theres hope?”*
She shook her head. *”The doctors said I cant have children now.”*
I left, heart heavy. I never visited againit seemed to pain her.
Five winters later, a knock interrupted my clinic. There stood Lydia, radiant, her husband beside her. One hand cradled her swelling belly; the other held a shy five-year-old girl.
*”Meet our daughter, Emily,”* Lydia beamed. *”After I recovered, your words stayed with me. We went to an orphanage. Emily was waiting on the stepslike Max knew. Then another miracle.”* She touched her stomach.
Years have passed, but I still wonder: Why did that boy choose me?
