The sudden screaming caught the attention of people coming out of the nightclub and curious passersby and soon a sizable crowd had gathered around the tractor. I went in to wash my hands so I could prepare the death certificate. As I was telling Erdinç where he had to put the seal, he leaned over with a cigarette for me to light. No sooner had five minutes passed when a young man, who must have been a relative to the deceased, pressed through the crowd in a panic and stuck his head round the door to my office:

“Doctor, he’s alive, my brother’s alive … he’s breathing.”

For a moment I stood there frozen. Tossing our cigarettes, we all went out. Now I was no longer the compassionate doctor who had done everything he could before grieving with the dead man’s relatives, but a crap of a man who had failed, who didn’t know how to bring this man back to life. In a flash I understood all this from the look in their eyes. Grabbing my stethoscope again I walked quickly over to the tractor. I couldn’t help but wonder if the man had really come back to life. I jumped up onto the trailer. The man was still lying there in the same place, motionless. I leaned over him and listened. Around me was a deep silence and the expectation of a miracle. But no … There was no change in him, he was dead. But why did they say that he was breathing? Then I realized they had felt the mechanical release of air from his lungs, a result of the CPR. But then I thought I felt a strange fluttering in the man. As I felt for a pulse I must have pressed down so hard that I was detecting my own heartbeat, and I panicked. Had I overlooked something? What was I supposed to do now? If he really was alive was I late in taking the required steps? And if he was alive, what would his relatives do to me? These thoughts flashing through my mind like lightning, I jumped to a decision and told them to slowly bring the man into my examination room. The crowd immediately made room. The man was laid down on the makeshift operating table. His arms, legs and chest were all attached to a second-hand EKG. I switched it on. My heart pounding in my chest. Waiting for the machine to give a flat line, I prayed to myself: “Oh my God, let him be dead.”

And yes, the EKG gave a flat line. Oh I was so relieved. I waited a little longer. A wave of relief hit me as I watched the paper flowing out of the machine.

“Aha, look … Flat … No activity … Your brother has died. He’s now with God. What more can I do now?”