An appointment with Dr. Devil
It was a usual Friday morning when I visited this health-care-center for the first time; a single story complex with two to three rooms where a reputed doctor operated his clinic. I entered the clinic. A not so healthy compounder keeping track of the patients sat in a corner, scribbling something on a piece of paper. I approached him and in a rather feeble voice asked, “Excuse me. Can I have an appointment?” The compounder paid no attention. Perhaps the chaotic backdrop of crying babies, angry mothers and distressed patients had made it impossible for him to hear me out. I cleared my throat and with much more deliberation asked once again,” I want an appointment with the doctor.” Once again the compounder did not respond. Now I knew. He could hear me easily but was pretending to be busy. He continued scribbling while I waited patiently. He looked enormously engrossed. Had one not known better, he could easily have passed off as Einstein drafting the most important theory of the millennium. I craned my neck, reached over the desk and tried to take at look at the prized piece. Just before I could, his left hand swiftly moved and covered the paper. I succeeded in stealing a glimpse somehow. He was framing the order in which he would let the patients in! Some unlucky ones had been scratched out, others, possibly on the dint of crisp notes or perhaps powerful references, managed in. Trying to catch his attention yet again I waved my hand, “Excuse me,” I said. “You do hear me, don`t you?” After what seemed an eternity, he raised his head and looked up. He did not say a word but I could read it all printed in his eyes. “What are you shouting about?” his eyes said with burning conceit, “This is my backyard. Out here I am the king. I know you want to be heard. I know you may be late. But the king has his own priorities and for the next few moments, you do not fit among them.” He made me wait a few more moments before he finally closed the piece of paper, ever so slowly, and looked up at me again. “What do you want?” he rudely asked.
“An appointment with the doctor! What else do you offer?” I mockingly replied. He did not like the answer, as expected. How could he? He was the king out there. Me, just a petty slave. With an irritated look about himself he replied, “Where is the patient?”
“I just want an appointment,” I tried to explain.”The patient can come when at the time of the appointment.”
My explanations proved to be an alien logic. He removed his glasses and stood up. ”I am sorry but that is not the protocol. You have to bring the patient here. I will fix your appointment. You and the patient will wait in this very hall; right before my eyes, where I can see you. Your name will be called. You will go in. That is how it works here. If you do not like it, you may as well leave.”
He announced his verdict through a crisp, free flowing volley of words. I had seldom witnessed someone speak with such ease. It must have been crammed up I concluded. I turned my back and bid goodbye to the health-care-center. I was determined never to return back. However, as soon as I left, the importance of seeing the doctor once again overtook me. I shrugged off the frustration, decided to make a compromise, and sped off.
In an hour or so, I returned with the patient. The unhealthy looking compounder minding the health-care-center quietly acknowledged my return with a silent chuckle. “Here he comes back,” I could hear the sadist inside him ridiculing.” Where else could he go?”
I reached over and asked for an appointment once again. This time he readily scribbled my name down. I managed to catch a look and found our name right at the end, twenty ninth on the serial. I sat down, took a deep breath of stale air that was filling up the small room and resigned to the fact that I was supposed to be there for not less than a good two hours. It did not bother me much. What did was the fact that I was accompanying a patient who was forced to endure the same as well.
We waited and waited. The clock struck ten. The clock struck eleven. It kept on rolling and we kept on waiting. One by one the patients went in and one by one they left. Some happy with what they were told. Others just because they were finally leaving. We kept on waiting until just three patients remained. The clock had already registered twelve. The hustle and bustle of theFriday afternoon had already taken over when suddenly the unhealthy compounder went missing. On asking for his whereabouts an elderly man sitting near his empty chair, made a surprising declaration. ”The doctor has left!” he said.
The health-care-center was located in the doctor`s backyard and it appeared that he had sneaked out of the clinic and into his home. “The doctor has some guests to attend. Some very important ones,” the elderly man announced. “He will be back though. You all can wait.”
“Guests! That’s weird,” I thought. What were we then? Perhaps we were pests. At least that is what we were presumed to be. We always are. I was more concerned about the compounder at this point. Where had he disappeared? Perhaps sent buzzing to buy bakery for the guests!
“You all can wait!” the elderly man had said. He had been utterly confident about it. And to some extent he had been right. We indeed can wait. We are used to waiting. We are made to wait at every opportunity that people get. Inside idling busses where drivers wait endlessly for passengers. On unsung provision stores where shopkeepers refuse to get enough of talking on mobile phones; talking to I don’t know who. At government offices where babus need chai to work. In mindless traffic. Besides half dug drains. Below unfinished flyovers. Inside crowded stores. We are expected to wait . We wait. No wonder the elderly man had taken the liberty of assuming we could wait!
The doctor took his time. Five minutes became ten. Ten became fifteen. No sign of him. I did not want to waste another morning. I did my math and concluded that it was more beneficial to wait there and then rather than lose it, go out furious and be forced to come back the next day. We continued to wait.
After what seemed an eternity, the compounder returned. I had waited too long to keep my patience. Propped up by the memories of the treatment he had given me in the morning, I walked up to him and asked him in a stone cold voice, “Where is the doctor?” I noticed that the doctor had taken all of the compounder`s unhealthy ‘kingship’ with him. He no longer acted like a king. He no longer talked like it. All he tried was to evade my look. But how could I let him. It was his backyard after all and we were being treated like houseflies in there; houseflies that were forced to waste their precious time and at the same time pay for it.
I pressed closer and asked once again, this time even louder, “Where is the doctor?” He could evade me no longer. He sported a silly smile and replied, “The doctor will be back shortly. He had some guests to attend. Please be patient. It is quite normal. These kind of breaks are routine here.” His illogical reply made me furious. Although I knew, it was none of his fault, but just for the way he acted in the morning I decided to let him hear a few sentimental lines. I started, “But how can he leave his patients waiting. His guests may be important, I agree, but we have paid for an appointment. Paid, you know. We have booked him. The time he is spending with his guests, is not his at all. It is ours. He keeps us waiting? How cold is that? We pay for his time. He does not pay for ours.” I knew he could do nothing about it. So I did not press too hard, retreated to my sitting place and continued to wait.
A few more minutes passed. Then suddenly the compounder started hustling and busting again. I heard him whisper to the elderly man, “The doctor is back.” By now, the aura of a Friday afternoon had completely set in. Namaz was just around forty minutes away and the doctor still had to see two more patients before he could see us. We had been waiting since nine a.m. in the morning and again what bothered me most was the fact that even patients were not spared the ordeal.
It must not have been more than a couple of minutes before the next patient was called in. Another two minutes and finally our name was called. Although I was relieved that we were going in, it disturbed me that the last two patients had been given only a perfunctory two minutes of time.
We went in. As expected, the doctor in an extreme haste, did his thing. Asked some questions. Wrote down some drugs. And gestured a particular gesture. It meant; leave now. We held our ground though. I wanted to ask some more questions. I wanted to share some more apprehensions. I did. I asked he listened, half heartedly though. Quickly he wrote some more drugs and handed over the prescription without bothering to investigate any further. Till now I doubt whether he had diagnosed the problem correctly and yet had prescribed drugs for it, so easily, so quickly.
“You may leave now. Just see how these drugs do and see me again after a week,” he declared. I took the prescription and just under my breath said, “See you again? I must be a fool. Be assured I will never as much as walk your street again, let alone talk to your unhealthy compounder and ask for an unhealthy appointment.” We left the clinic. Unsatisfied with the treatment yes but ransacked with frustration and tired to bits as well.
For a few days I puzzled over that horrendous Friday morning. I did not know what to do. I knew we would need to see a doctor again. But who could we consult? Who could we trust? With our feelings, with our time, with our health! I was dejected . I always believed that their profession was the noblest profession out there. All because they dealt with humans. It was not just insentient hardware they fixed but men and women and children, with emotions and feelings. It lent their job enormous respect. It asked for huge responsibilities as well. However from what I had witnessed, the doctor had been ready to rake in the benefits but had cut a blind corner when the moment to shoulder his responsibility had come. No doubt I was dejected.
Just a few days later, something remarkable happened that reinstated my faith in doctors. Something plain and simple. Hassle free. A certain friend gave me a telephone number. It dialed to a reputed doctor`s clinic. By now I was ready to try once again. A man with a very gentle voice answered,” What can I do for you?”
“I want an appointment with the doctor,” I asked. ”What should I do?” I asked.
In a rather reassuring tone, the man replied, “Nothing more. You have already done what was required. Even as you were talking to me, I booked your appointment. The doctor will see you on Monday at 12:30 p.m. Will that be fine for you?” I could not trust my ears. There was nothing else to say. “Perfectly fine with me,” I replied. “We will see you on Monday then,” the man replied and hung the phone.
The following Monday, we dropped at his clinic, ahead of time. Our appointment was confirmed and we were shown a place to wait. Remarkably not many people were present. Telephonic appointments, I concluded. You do not need to wait for too long. Not many people get queued up. Great. It strengthened my hope that the consultation would go well. In a few moments, our name was called and we saw the doctor. He looked hassle free. He looked calm. He gave us ample time. He may well have given us the same prescription that the earlier one did, but just the fact that he cared, made us feel better, made us feel well treated.
He had made it happen. The telephonic appointment system worked great for us. As it did and still is for hundreds and thousands of patients all over the world. It is simple and elegant. You call up and ask for appointment. Your call carries ultimate weight. Even if a person personally visits the clinic and takes an appointment after you, he gets to see the doctor after you. The same holds true for all public. Excludes the need of visiting and waiting uselessly. Makes seeing a doctor ridiculously easy.
I wonder why then the system has not been embraced by more private doctors in Kashmir. Could it be because they are unaware of it? Or is it because they are too apathetic to the miseries they inflict on their patients? In any case, they are letting go of an option that can mean so much to so many. They are wasting a chance to ease the sufferings of those in trouble. Whether they wake up from their slumber and do the new or sleep in hibernation determined not to care, remains to be seen.
