The air was so humid one could almost feel that they were swimming through it. The heat was especially strong and sweat-inducing that day, but that sweat would go nowhere thanks to the humidity. The nonexistent wind was of no consolation, either.

"At least it's not raining today!" Martin said cheerfully.

"It's monsoon season. Give it a couple hours."

"Don't be such a pessimist, Nadira!" he replied. "Though I'll confess, you're probably right..."

Martin had been in India long enough to know that summers there meant rain - and lots of it. There were times when it rained so heavily, he was certain the drops were larger than himself! Of course, that was hardly a rare occurrence for someone who stood just under an inch tall. He did not want to ever be caught out in the open away from shelter whenever the clouds started to downpour.

He had also learned that the days when the sun was shining were especially busy at the clinic. People would take advantage of the clear weather to visit him with hopes that they could find remedies for whatever ailed them. On any given day, he would attend to people with fevers and allergies, broken bones, itchy rashes, and stomach aches - any medical problem, even...libido issues, on occasion. People of all ages would make the walk to the modest brick building on the outskirts of town, seeking out the Helper.

Martin had been a medical missionary for over a year now and had gained quite the reputation. The early days had been a little difficult, especially as funding was still waiting to clear. At first, he met in a little canvas tent on a farmer's property, attending to one patient at a time. Nadira had been one of his first patients. Now, she was a valuable assistant and translator.

"What was it that first brought you to my tent, again?" Martin reminisced.

"A bee sting," she answered as she went through the inventory of medical supplies. Everything was well stocked and in order.

"Ah yes. A nasty sting, too. A little bit of an infection, but nothing a little bit of antibiotics couldn't treat."

Nadira smiled and continued counting. Though some of the work around the clinic could be tedious, she had learned a lot about medicine from Martin. She was not a certified nurse, but had been trained in all manner of first aid. A young woman just shy of twenty years old, she had been unsure of what to do with her life, but now was greatly interested in continuing her education and becoming a nurse. In the meantime, she helped Martin with patients, doing things that would be easier for a human to do than a Helper, like administering shots and wrapping bandages. Though his Hindi was improving, she also translated and helped relay information, especially to those who had trouble hearing his little voice.

Before long, the bells on the front door jangled, indicating that their first patient was here.

"Good morning! Come on in," Nadira called as she made her way to the foyer.

After taking down some information and filling out the required forms, she led the woman back to Martin's office. She was a woman in her mid-30s, dressed in a traditional sari of beautiful colors that stood out well against her dark brown skin and raven black hair. She wore a face of uneasiness and distress.

"This is Mrs. Banerjee. She owns a fabric stand in the market."

"Namaste! What is ailing you today?" Martin asked. He was standing at his little desk, which stood atop a human-sized table.

Her accent was thick and while he could mostly understand, it was fortunate that Nadira came in with assistance: "She says that she has had a fever and a headache for a couple of days, but has started having difficulty swallowing, as well."

"Hmm..." Martin responded, thinking on the possibilities. "Have a seat, Mrs. Banerjee. Nadira, could you give me a lift?"

Martin wished that he had some of the more high-tech equipment his Helper colleagues had access to in more urban areas. However, part of his mission was to go to areas that could not afford such facilities. It was very rewarding and purposeful, but it did mean that he had to make do with whatever was available. Instead of a platform apparatus, he had Nadira's hand.

When it appeared before him, Martin hopped onto the soft, light-brown surface of Nadira's palm. She carried him over to the patient, where he directed her to take him near her neck.

"Great, stop right here," he instructed. He reached out and touched the side of the woman's neck, pressing down on several areas. Her skin was covered in perspiration, likely from the fever (and from the outside heat).

"Just as I thought: swollen lymph nodes. There's only one way to confirm my suspicions. Mrs. Banerjee, could you please open your mouth as wide as you can?"

Nadira lifted him a little higher as the patient complied. With her other hand, Nadira made use of a tongue depressor, giving Martin a good, unobstructed view of the patient's mouth. He peered in and shined his flashlight directly at the back of her throat. It was very red, much more than the normal pink. Her tonsils were very large and inflamed, dwarfing the uvula that stood between them.

"Yep, confirmed. Mrs. Banerjee, you have strep throat," said Martin.

The woman closed her mouth as Nadira explained to her what she was suffering from. She appeared to be concerned, but Martin calmed her fears.

"I'm going to prescribe you some penicillin. It's a fast working antibiotic. Take a couple of those pills every day for the next week and you'll be back in good health in no time!"

"Thank you, Dr. Martin!" she said in English as best as she could, gratefully bowing with her hands together.

"Not a problem. Just get plenty of rest at home, avoiding contact with others for the day. We don't want that spreading around!"

By the time Mrs. Banerjee was on her way, the next patient was already entering. This one had a scheduled appointment, so there was no surprise when she came in.

"Namaste, Kavya! Please enter and have a seat!"

Nadira helped support Kavya as she walked into the room; she was heavily pregnant. A large belly protruded from the waist of the young woman. She was no more than five feet tall, so it appeared especially enormous.

Martin looked at his charts. "The baby is coming very soon, isn't it? I can't believe you're already in your eighth month! It seems like just the other day you were coming in her complaining of nausea..."

The appointment was a routine prenatal exam, one of many that she had been coming in for in the last few months, but in the weeks leading up the delivery, they would become a weekly visit. This was her first child and so she had been especially nervous at first, but every visit to Martin helped her fears to be alleviated, as it was clear that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Nadira took her measurements, including her weight and blood pressure, then helped her to sit down on the examining table.

"Have you been feeling the baby move a lot recently?" Martin asked.

"Oh, all the time!" she said smiling. "He is a kicker."

"He? You know without an ultrasound here, we can't really confirm that."

"Oh, I'm fairly certain it is a boy," she said. "I don't know why, but I just have a...feeling."

"Okay, I just don't want you to be surprised if it turns out to be a girl," he replied with an air of caution.

"If it is a girl, I will love her dearly. It does not matter in the end."

"Great! Let's see how 'he's' doing, shall we?"

Kavya reclined on the table and lifted her shirt, exposing her round belly. From Martin's perspective, it was a massive dome many times his own height. He mused that she could cover it in snow and he could ski down it (though he did not dare speak this out loud). Nadira set him down on the soon-to-be mother's stomach, where Martin began his examination.

Her navel had started to protrude in the last week, which was a good sign. He walked around the top of the mound, stooping down to feel it from time to time. He then lay prostrate on the stomach, his ear against her warm flesh. Martin could hear a few things going on from within Kavya's body. Most prominent was the sound of the digestion occurring from within her bowels, which had been very busy lately as she was eating for two.

"Any strange food cravings lately?" he asked.

The ground below him jiggled as she chuckled. "Not really. Well, actually...I usually hate pickles. But lately, I can't stop eating them!"

Martin smiled. "We'll get you a whole jar of them before your next visit."

He continued listening. In the distance, he could hear Kavya's heart beating away, sending its pulse throughout her body. However, there was another similar sound. It was softer, but just as regular and it beat just off tempo with hers.

"Kayva, you might want to listen to this. Nadira, can you set up the stethoscope?"

Nadira placed a stethoscope on Kavya's stomach near to where Martin was laying. Once she had found the right position and heard for herself, she helped Kayva sit up and listen. In a moment, her eyes welled up with tears of joy and she covered her mouth with her hand, overwhelmed with emotion. Very softly, Kavya could hear her infant's heart beating alongside her own.

As Martin looked on with contentment, he felt a tremor from below him - from within Kayva's body. It was the baby. It seemed like it knew that it was being talked about and wanted to join in the excitement. Martin could feel it moving around in Kayva's womb. She smiled, as she could feel it very well and was amused at Martin's face.

However, very unexpectedly, the baby kicked with a vigorous force. It impacted the flesh right below where Martin was resting and it knocked him so hard, he flew several inches into the air! Kavya gasped and Nadira rushed to grab Martin before he fell, but he when he landed, he tumbled down from the top of Kavya's stomach. He rolled head over heels until he crashed into the folds of her shirt at the base of her belly, resting between the lesser mounds of her breasts. Nadira quickly and carefully snatched him up.

"Martin, are you okay?" Both women were looking upon him with concern.

A little dazed, he stood up in Nadira's palm and said, "I'm fine, but I'll tell you this: Boy or girl...sign this child up for sports! We have an athlete!"

The rest of the morning and early afternoon was filled with routine appointments and check-ups. Many people were coming in with allergy problems and they were sent off with some antihistamines. Some came for vaccines, especially against malaria, which would be widespread soon with the mosquitos out in full force. Perhaps the most peculiar was when a mother brought her little boy in because he had stuck a pebble in his ear; Martin was able to extract it manually with a good shove.

Most of the patients were women and children. It is an unfortunate truth that in places such as India, women and children do not receive adequate health care, especially among the lower classes where gender inequality and patriarchy are more prevalent. Martin treated them all for very little charge, often for free. In return, many would provide clothing and food for him, though he required very little. One chicken could feed him for a month! He normally declined, but he had come to enjoy a good helping of warm naan bread.

Some time in the mid-afternoon, the business in the clinic was interrupted by the sound of a commotion outside. A young boy burst into through the doors, breathing very heavily.

"Helper Martin! Helper Martin!" he cried out frantically.

"What's going on? Is there an emergency?"

"It's my big sister! She's on the ground and not moving!"

"Quickly, boy, tell me where she is!"

The boy's home was about a half mile away. He had run the entire way there, but had worn himself out. Martin had him rest on one of the benches while he went to attend to his sister. The journey would have taken him far too long by himself.

"Nadira, you're going to have to carry me there."

Without saying a word, she swept him up and ran out the door. With all deliberate speed, Nadira ran down the dusty path to the other side of the village. In one hand, she carried a bag of medical supplies and in the other, she clasped Martin, being careful not to squeeze him too tight, but also making sure he did not accidentally slip out.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the address the boy had given them. The door had been left wide open, so the rushed right in. Just as had been described, a young woman lay spread out on the kitchen floor under the table. She was perhaps not much older than 18. It was possible that she was the main caretaker for her siblings, especially as there were no other adults in the house.

"Take me to her!"

Martin leapt from Nadira's palm and landed on the girl's body. Rushing to her chest, he placed an ear to her heart.

"Her heart is beating...slowly," he said. "But she's not breathing. Something must blocking her airway."

Martin quickly jumped up and ran up to her neck. Taking a great leap, her grabbed on to the girl's chin and lifted himself up to her face. Her mouth was slightly open, adding to his suspicions. They were confirmed when he shone his flashlight down into the dark, wet chasm. At the back of the girl's throat, he could just make out an object lodged within.

"What's wrong?" Nadira asked with great concern.

"She's choking, that's what. It's been a few minutes already and we really don't have much time left," he said. "Do you know the Heimlich maneuver?"

"The what?"

"The Heimlich maneuver! Do you know it?" he shouted sharply.

"No! I don't think so..."

"It's okay. I'll teach you soon, but I don't have time to show you right now. We need to clear this blockage immediately."

Many thoughts entered into Martin's head, but time was running out. As a Helper, he was called to do whatever it took to help a human. This was especially true of saving one's life.

"Drastic measures..." he muttered under his breath.

In a second, Nadira watched Martin disappear between the parted lips. He slid along the young woman's tongue until he stopped himself by bracing against her palate. Nadira came to assistance by retrieving a tongue depressor stick from the medical bag, inserting it into the mouth to give Martin more room to work. Carefully descending further, Martin discovered the root of the problem: a dried fig. The round fruit was not much bigger than he, but it had been lodged in the poor girl's throat.

Choking occurs when instead of going down the esophagus, food attempts to go down the trachea (the "windpipe") but gets caught, blocking the airway. Normally when food is swallowed, the epiglottis, a thin piece of cartilage, acts as a door to the trachea and closes downward, preventing choking from happening. However, if a person swallows too fast or is laughing too hard, the food can get stuck between the epiglottis and the trachea and cannot be coughed out. The obstruction must be clear very soon or the oxygen deprivation can lead to death.

Very carefully, Martin lowered himself headfirst further into the woman's throat, slipping beyond her uvula. With her laying down instead of sitting up, he would have to do this upside-down, but at least he would not have to be working the fig out against gravity. Still resting on the back of her tongue, he reached down into her throat and placed his hands on the fig. He grabbed a handful of it firmly and tried to pull it out, but it was to no avail. He was not in the right position, nor did he have enough arm strength. Its surface was also too slippery with accumulated saliva.

Taking a deep breath of the humid air, Martin knew he was running out of options--and so was the girl. He was going to have to try harder if he wanted to save her life. Despite the uneasy feeling of doing so, he dropped further into her throat. He was no longer on her tongue, but was now kneeling on her pharynx, the part of the throat that can be seen beyond the uvula. Martin could now grab the fig with both hands, rocking it back and forth and shoving it with all of his might. He stood up, lifting the epiglottis with his back. This proved to be very effective and he was able to roll the fig out of the trachea and free up the airway. With a heroic shove, he pushed it down into her esophagus where it rightly belonged.

In doing so, however, he lost his footing on the slippery floor. The epiglottis shutting on top of him and if he did not move soon, his body would be replacing the fig and she would be would choking on him! Darting away, he managed to escape being shoved down her windpipe, but instead ended up following the fig down her esophagus!

"Oh hell no!" Martin exclaimed.

He was committed to his cause, but he was not willing to end up in an eighteen-year-old Indian girl's stomach for it. Fortunately, with her head being against the floor instead of being upright, he did not have gravity pushing him down into her gullet. Though the muscles were contracting around him and trying to send him down further, he resisted and struggled his way back up. He was determined not to end up with the fig. Eventually, he was able to grasp onto one of her back molars and pull himself completely out of the throat and back into her mouth.

"Nadira, get me out of here!" he called out as loud as he can.

"Grab on to the end of the tongue depressor!" she said, then pulled him out of the mouth.

Relieved to finally be back in the open air, Martin collapsed onto Nadira's palm. He was physically exhausted. He rested there and recouped for several seconds as Nadira watched on.

"How is the girl?" he asked.

"She's breathing again. She's still asleep, but thanks to your efforts, I think she will be fine. You saved her life."

Martin smiled and sat up, wiping the sweat off his brow. "I'm just glad I could help. That's what I do, isn't it? I'm a Helper."

"And thank Vishnu for that."