At Belleville in Barbados, Ruth finally awoke from her days of sleep. She slowly opened her eyes and frowned, feeling weak.
"Dad," she weakly called out. But no one came.
Sitting up, she placed her palm on her head. It was burning hot, and she felt really sick.
Opening the door, she walked out, slowly descending the stairs. But then—thud. She fell.
I was in the kitchen when I heard a thud. Rushing to the source of the noise, I saw Ruth lying motionless on the floor while drops of blood fell from her forehead.
"Uncle James!" I called out. Then he came. He quickly carried Ruth straight to the car, and we both left for the hospital.
The moment we reached the hospital, the doctor was shocked by her temperature—especially the heat from her head.
Uncle James and I sat in the narrow corridor waiting for the test results.
A moment later, the doctor came to us.
"Patient's relative?"
Uncle James nodded. "I'm her father."
The doctor then continued, "Your daughter has a severe cerebral hemorrhage. It's when a blood vessel in the brain bursts, and the bleeding puts pressure on the brain tissue. It's dangerous, and often caused by head trauma, high blood pressure, or—in rare cases—extreme emotional or physical stress."
"If I may ask," he added, "has the patient been having symptoms like weakness, headaches, or confusion?"
He handed over the list of symptoms to me, since Uncle James stood unmoving.
Uncle James stood still without speaking. He was shocked beyond words.
I was also shocked, but I couldn't deny the fact that I knew why Ruth had headaches, confusion, and weakness.
I knew it was all because of my father's attacks.
Not only was Ruth a victim of his schemes—she had now developed a cerebral hemorrhage.
I am so heartbroken. It seems Assey has succeeded in harming Ruth.
My eyes turned red from the urge to stop my tears from falling.
Assey had reached my bottom line.
Standing up, I asked the doctor, "What is there to do?"
"We have to do surgery to remove the blood clots caused by the bleeding. Even though the clots are in a very sensitive area of the brain, we'll try our best to take them out. But there's something you need to know…"
He paused. "The patient has only a 50 percent chance of survival. The pressure inside her skull is high, and time is critical."
"The good news is," he added, "there was a donation last month for patients suffering from cerebral hemorrhage. That will cover the cost of the operation. Give me a minute, I'll be back with the consent form."
The doctor left.
That's when I turned to Uncle James. He was crying so bitterly that I had to hug him to suppress the sobs.
"Hush, Uncle. Ruth will be fine."
All the tears I'd been holding back broke loose.
Uncle James looked so pitiful. Especially Ruth.
Slowly, Uncle James calmed down, and we heard footsteps.
The doctor came and handed over a form to Uncle James to fill.
It was his consent for the surgery to be performed.