At the Heart Hospital, I sat with my mother in the waiting room, surrounded by women whose hearts ached.
I felt their pain though I did not know details of their conditions. I was fascinated by their patience and I praised the smile that never left their faces even though their “dynamos” were in pain.
My thoughts kept wandering and I entered the chambers of their hearts to find the source of their pain. During every visit, the cardiologist was keen to educate me on the human heart, confirming that it has more than four chambers.
I always thought that the human heart only had four chambers — two superior atria and two inferior ventricles.
While trying to explain to me functions of the heart and how it pumps blood through the body, the cardiologist said hearts differed from one another. I never knew that.
All the information made me wonder about the hearts of the patients in the waiting room. They were similar in structure and functions, but not alike, even their pain was different.
I realised then that hearts were like lands, some might be clothed with spring, some might suffer drought or desertification.
A brief conversation happened between me and patients though I was cautious lest I should get snubbed as my question might interfere in their private lives. But I was curious to know all about their heart conditions and wanted to help whomever I could.
They were keen and willing to tell me about their conditions, as their pain was common but symptoms and syndromes were different.
Their conditions varied. Some suffered from Superior Vena Cava Obstruction, while others from heart failure, valvular heart disease and premature ventricular contraction.
For the record, I never knew that the human heart had an electrical conduction system. When I asked the cardiologist, he said, “Didn’t I tell you that the human heart have chambers? These chambers need oxygen, aeration and electricity as well.”
The doctor kept educating me on the human heart until I became aware that it was more like a whole land, however, I could not reach its borders, so I envied the cardiologist and mourned my medical illiteracy.
A young woman sitting at the end of the room caught my attention. Based on my humble knowledge I guessed that she might have coronary artery disease, as she was young.
She seemed to me like she was dying, because she appeared very withdrawn and sad. I asked her if she had tachycardia (when the heart rate exceeds the normal range of beating). I remembered that a normal heart pulse is 70 beats per minute — recalling what I had learned during my school days.
“How many beats above 70?” I asked frugally.
She flippantly looked at me. I trembled as I noticed that she could not breathe due to the pain in her heart or the pressure she felt, so I thought she might have bradycardia.
This made me think that maybe this is harder and tougher, but soon my thoughts were interrupted by the waiter calling, “Tea, coffee, water…”
This service at the new Heart Hospital revives hearts, even if patients do not want anything.
All patients asked for tea, coffee, Nescafé, some only water. The young woman did not even turn her head to the waiter.
I took a cup of coffee with milk to fight my sleepiness. I found it a good opportunity to ask about the caffeine effect on their hearts, and if the doctor had prevented them from consuming it during day, night or for ever.
The coffee freshened me up though the waiter had added more sugar that I had wanted. It increased my energy and I continued passing my time with patients while the nurse was calling for them in order.
Everyone was smiling. I experienced vivacity in the room that was filled with hope and satisfaction with what Allah decided for us and with our beloved Qatar that dedicated a whole hospital for a human organ.
When I looked at my mother, I found that despite of her pain, she was happy with test results and the safety of the device implanted in her heart.
After each visit to the hospital, my mother thanks Allah for His grace and prays for His Highness the Emir, may Allah protect him, as he has played a vital role in reviving aching hearts by dedicating this hospital, whose progress took so long.
My mother kept on praying and the patients said “Amen”.
They prayed for Allah to dedicate a hospital for them to give life to their bones while they were disintegrated.
My eyes kept glued to a girl at the end of the room. Her hand was on her heart as if it was squeezing it or her. She caught my attention because she was the only one who was not smiling, despite being beautiful.
After she got out of the room after being examined by one of the finest cardiologists in the country, I offered to help her by taking her prescription so that I could go to the pharmacy to get medicine for her, as she seemed exhausted and was accompanied by a maid only.
“I don’t have a prescription, hospitals in London, Paris, the US, Saudi Arabia and Qatar have failed,” she said.
I felt embarrassed as I thought that I might have interfered with her life once more. My eyes wandered at this giant edifice dedicated to heart patients and their pain, with all of its modern equipment, advanced medicine, skilled and experienced doctors and the effort Qatar put in to establish it.
My tears spilled while I ached as medicines were unable to treat grieving hearts wounded by “love”.
