The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,134
all the way from Canada to see him. Please don’t make me go back to my hotel. Please don’t make me wait.”
She returned to her computer. “He was scheduled to have brachytherapy this morning at nine. He could still be feeling the side effects.”
“I thought he was getting radiation therapy,” Ava said.
“Don’t be alarmed. Brachytherapy is just a specialized form of radiation therapy.”
“Just?”
The woman looked up at Ava. “I’m not trying to scare you.”
“I don’t know enough about this kind of thing.”
“No one really does until it’s necessary.”
Ava looked around the resource centre and said, “I feel so bad for all these people.”
The woman nodded. “Your grandfather may not be completely alert.”
“I need to see him. Even that would be enough.”
She looked back at her screen. “He’s in the patient ward on the seventh floor.”
“Can I go there?”
“I’ll have to clear it with the nursing station first.”
“Please.”
The woman pointed to a vacant chair by the wall. “You wait over there.”
Ava sat, her eyes fixed on the woman, who made one phone call, then quickly hung up and began to speak with the person who’d been in line behind Ava. She waited, trying not to stare at the other people in the resource centre, trying not to imagine why they were there.
After five minutes she began to steel herself to the idea of just leaving the area and taking the elevator to the seventh floor. Then the woman picked up the phone again, spoke rapidly to someone, and motioned to her. Ava walked back to the desk.
“Okay, you can go upstairs, but you need to check in with the nursing station.”
Ava exited the elevator on the seventh floor. An arrow on the wall directed her to the station. She walked down the hallway past open room doors, the only person not in some kind of uniform, feeling like a trespasser. The nursing station was bursting with activity; it took Ava a few minutes to get someone’s attention. When she did, the nurse said, “Why are you here?”
“I was sent here by Margarita from the resource centre downstairs. She spoke to someone here by phone and said it was okay for me to come. I’m Chow Tung’s granddaughter.”
“Wait a minute,” the nurse said.
She disappeared behind a wall in the middle of the station, and when she re-emerged, another nurse was with her. “You’re here to see Mr. Chow?”
“I am.”
The nurse was stout and grey-haired and had two red stripes on her uniform lapel. She looked Ava up and down. “This is unusual.”
“I know, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I’ve just flown in from Canada. I had no idea he was so ill until yesterday.”
The senior nurse came through a gate in the counter. “He’s down at the end of the ward. I’ll walk you there,” she said.
“How is he feeling?” Ava asked.
“He’s just had a round of therapy, so he’ll be feeling a bit beat-up, but other than that he’s an ideal patient. Never complains.”
“How many rounds has he had?”
“This was his fourth. The others were in the day-patient clinic.”
“Why is he staying in hospital this time?”
“I can’t discuss that. You’ll have to speak to him or his doctor.”
“I understand.”
The nurse stopped at a closed door. “This is his room.” She looked at her watch. “I’m going to give you ten minutes. Don’t make me come and get you, and check in with me before you leave.”
“I will.”
“And, Ms. Lee, don’t expect to be able to do this again.”
Ava nodded.
The nurse opened the door. Uncle lay on his back, his eyes closed. His face was pale and drawn; he had lines under his eyes and beside his mouth that seemed to have sprung from nowhere. His mouth was slightly open, the skin under his chin hanging loose. Ava gasped. She had never seen him look so old. She had never once imagined him to be so frail.
The nurse walked to the bed and checked the intravenous tube. As she did, he turned his head towards them and opened his eyes. When he saw Ava, he closed them again but didn’t move his head.
“He’s all yours,” the nurse said.
There was a chair in the corner of the room. Ava lifted it and carried it next to the bed. She sat and put her hand on top of his. She then lowered her head onto the bed, her eyes tightly shut. She invoked St. Jude in a whisper, and as she did she felt tears trickle from the corners