This archive report was first published on 22 December 2019.
It was a typical Tuesday morning in May 1962, and I was busy operating at the Aga Khan Hospital in Nairobi. My wife, Marie, had dropped me off at the hospital in our VW beetle and was on her way to work at City Hall as the 'Inoculation Sister.'
As I began my first surgery of the day, a cholecystectomy, I received a message from Sister Duggal that my wife was on the phone and in a lot of pain. I replied that I would be with her as soon as I finished the case, but when I tried to call her back, she had already hung up.
My operating team and I were in a state of panic, and Sister Robinson suggested that I rush home to be with Marie. I borrowed a colleague's car and drove to our flat near Parklands Police Station, where I found Marie deathly white and fainted on the floor by the side of the bed.
With no medical history available, I examined her abdomen and concluded that she was bleeding internally, likely due to a gynaecological emergency. I carried her to the backseat of the car and drove to the hospital, defying all speed laws.
On arrival, I rushed to the Casualty and asked for a stretcher and porters to help me carry Marie to the operating theatre. There, with the help of Dr. Ramrakha, my anaesthetist, I drew blood from Marie's vein and sent it for grouping and crossmatching. I also set up a dextrose saline drip until blood arrived.
Meanwhile, I rang Mr. Ormerod, the senior gynaecologist, who was operating at the Princess Elizabeth Hospital. He replied that he would be with me as soon as he finished his case, but Marie's condition was deteriorating rapidly. I was faced with a difficult decision: either operate on her immediately or risk losing her.
With the encouragement of my team, I scrubbed to operate on Marie, but just as I was about to make an incision, Mr. Ormerod arrived and took over. We found a ruptured tubal pregnancy as the cause of the bleeding and performed the necessary surgery to save Marie's life.
It took two agonizing days for Marie to recover from the crisis, but I was relieved that she had turned the corner. This harrowing experience taught me that doctors and their families don't always exhibit the textbook picture, and I was grateful to have had the opportunity to save my wife's life.
