She crosses the room full of some 30 odd couples, and drags her feet to the farthest of the bench. Sitting on the cold and hard chair, she wonders why doctors have the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture, in their lounge. These are so uninviting and so cold. She reflects that all these people have one thing in common- a shared dream; they have each other with them. But to her dismay, she doesn’t… She sees one or two furtive glances, hears whispers and tries to be indifferent, but she fails.
“ ‘Ibi’, you there……….I guess the doc would answer that…….. I believe today is not such a bad day after all. The sky is clear, the air is crisp and strangely sweet… but why is it sweet!...…. Is it a sign to let me know that you are finally here?........ There hasn’t been much to do in your absence… no booboos to kiss away… no friends to discuss… no swimming or piano lessons… no soccer matches to cheer…”
She warms me but her stance is a bit disturbing. She tries to be invisible, she tries to melt away in oblivion, but people can’t help but notice her. They can’t help: seeing her plight, her nervousness, her being alone and knowingly or unknowingly they make her shift in her seat. This is one perspective while the other holds true as I believe. They can’t help but notice: her confidence, her maturity, her level headedness, the way she conducts herself. This mindless subterfuge… seems to have a mind of its own.
She hears her name being called. She gets up and walks to the counter. The woman asks her to follow and she does. She’s told to get dressed in a generic mass produced blue paper gown. She gets dressed and then is told to lie down on the worktable. Lying down on the cold table she postulates on her theory of Doctors & the Uncomfortable pieces of seating fixtures.
“ ‘Ibi’, it seems your volition will outlive my own… The decision that you’ve contributed to makes no sense to me at all…” She sees the doctor enter. A few exchanges later, her body convulses, and she gears up for what has to follow. With her legs wide apart, and a probe inside her, she struggles with her breath. “… everything’s going to be ok… just don’t give up on me… let her tell me you’re here… let her”
She looks to and fro, doctor and the blip on the screen, anticipating a response. “I am prescribing some injections, you take them once daily for three days… and come and see me on the fourth day.” She nods her approval and gets dressed. She takes it as a positive sign of my arrival and heads towards the pharmacy. She buys her medicines and then walks towards the nurse’s bay.
“You’re back… she smiles …good news… she smiles again but her eyes tell a different story …Don’t worry your God will take care, How may I help you?" She hands over the doctor’s prescription and the meds to her. She’s taken to the administer room. She lies down on her side, with fists clenched and eyes tight shut…. She’s phobic of needles. How badly she wants somebody to be with her and hold her hand.
And there goes the first one, right in the small of her back. A tear rolls down her eyes…
She puts up a brave picture but her cold sweaty hands give her away. And there goes another one.
She gets up, thanks the nurse and walks out of the building. The visit wasn’t as hopeful as she wanted to be… but still she waits for another three days.