Game of Chance

What determines life or death?
Who should have that authority?

The closest by far are doctors, for in their hands, a patient places their complete trust - in hope that they will do everything they can in their best interest, to keep their family members safe for another day.

I bumped into one of my high school friends today at the tram stop. She looked lovely, and I called out her name, "You look lovely today, E! Are you going to work?"

"No," came the reply, "I'm going to a funeral."

"Oh, I'm sorry,' automatically, my hand reached out for her arm. I didn't press for more details, but after a while, she started to talk. The funeral was for a baby. Not a premature baby, like my initial thought, but a ten-day overdue baby.

Every second matters.
Every minute. Every hour. Every day.

How could they not have intervened earlier? Why was a caesarean not performed earlier so the overdue baby and her mother could be kept safe? That the expecting mother felt labour pains but 'did not bleed enough' so they did not intervene, but rather suggested natural delivery, which resulted in the baby suffocating from swallowing meconium. A mere two day old baby whose parents had to make a decision to turn off life support. What and why and how?

A mother carries a baby for ten months.

Before that, the egg must be fertilised at the right time of month. Then the fertilised egg must embed into the wall of the uterus and, miraculously, start to grow and grow and grow to become an embryo, a fetus, a baby. How many processes must be carried out at exactly the right timing? How many cells must divide and replicate without error so a baby can be born healthy? What are the chances? Life is so precious. How do we forget how precious it is? How do we forget how many things must align for a life to simply be? Why do we get so inundated with processes, laws, regulations, hierarchies and protocols?

"What flowers do you think are appropriate?"

I racked my brains for an answer, "White," then I elaborated. "Where I grew up, white is the colour. White roses." Then more memories appeared out of seemingly nowhere, "Carnations - when I was younger I remember, represented a mother's love. We wore carnations on our chest and gave them to our mums on Mother's day."

We stood to ask an elderly lady if she needed a seat.

"This week hasn't been the best. My dad had a heart attack a few days ago."
My heart.

"Is he okay? Are the doctors managing all the post-operative treatment well?" The questions came tumbling out. She assured me it was all well.

My stop was approaching. I grabbed hold of her arm and told her to please pass on my condolences.
"Their next babies will be healthier and stronger. I hope your dad recovers really quickly. My thoughts are with you." The most repeated phrase was the only sentence that came to mind. I held on until I couldn't anymore and dashed off the tram.

And what else could I say?

I bought roses. White and pink :)

Thank you for letting me know. My thoughts are with you, and I hope that wherever the baby is, that she is well, and that her siblings will grow to be safe, healthy and beautiful people.