(Nosocomephobia means fear of hospitals, something that I, and this fictional character who I am about to write about has.)
An earthquake within the nerves of Jamal troubled his grasp on the phone. The silenced wails of his heart gave way to the receiver on the other end of the phone call.
A sigh waffled through the atmosphere, “I’ll see what we can do, sir.” And with that the voice inside the device cuts off with a hasty buzz, leaving the man alone with his queries.
With purpose, he runs to his truck, fumbling while trying to lock his front door and using his car key to start it up remotely so he could just hop in and arrive at the nearby hospital in Getesburg where his cousin is residing, but everything was put in vain as emotions started to sink in. Looking at the night sky above him, his wails grew louder. “Oh Lord, why? Why must you do this to my cousin and I? Why couldn’t she arrive here at my home without getting into an accident?”
He grips the leathered steering wheel harder and tighter as flashbacks on the details of a mangled car appeared on the news, the officers at the scene reporting the incident by using the same call he was on with Daina, his cousin before disaster, and the horrid screaming before hearing a loud crash through his phone. “I pray that she’s well, I pray that she’s alive. Please Lord, don’t do this to me.” And like that, Jamal reverses out of his driveway and onto the path towards the building he fears the most as his mind loops everything that has happened like a broken record.
Without any trouble he arrived and parked in a hurry, dashing towards the receptionist.
Explaining his situation and waiting for an answer to know if his cousin is well, he was told to go to room 477. And with a quick thank you he navigated his way around the building with the instructions from the lady. Unfortunately his speed wasn’t fast enough to beat time as minutes turned into an hour and an hour turned into five within the waiting room of the ICU area. Yet again the stings of his tears begins to swell whilst he folds his hands once more.
Lord please make her be alright, if she won’t recover in a few days, I beg that you may keep her alive if it is of your will…
Sniffing one last time he was finally called by a man with a clipboard in hand. “Are you the relative to Daina Jones?” He asked. “Yes, yes I am.” Jamal answered. And with that he starts biting on his tongue begging that his prayer is answered. “Well, I am here to say that…” And right there everything went blurry as tears stream from his face. Saying his thanks to the doctor and to God.
He ran, no, he took the maddest dash towards the room of despair that has now became a room of testimonies that abodes the person he’s been crying out for. Crying out to God for. And now he finds peace and thankfulness to hold her hand and hear her whisper something in person from her lips and not digitally. The words “God is good, Philippians 4:6-7.”
“Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”
Now I’m sure the theme of this story, with a fortunately happy ending is the message we’re all familiar with (well I hope) which is that prayers can be and will be answered. God would never do something that wouldn’t be prosperous in the future, even if it looks as if it won’t be for the better in the present! But this doesn’t mean God would do all that we ask for. He still knows what He will accept and what He would not. The same with what trials and tribulations He would make Satan have access to do, which I’m sure Job have had first-hand experience with!
So, all-in-all, keep praying. Always pray and give thanks even if what you expected or wanted didn’t come to light. Be sure to check out the last part of this story! It is in Daina’s POV and it also includes what comes after this ending of part 1, so stay tuned!