The evening sun cast long shadows across the waiting room of my clinic, painting a picture of mundane routine. I pushed open the heavy glass door, weary from the day, only to be greeted by a peculiar sight - a disparate crew of half a dozen patients, restless and anxious. Amidst them stood a middle-aged man, his hairline retreating as if in retreat from his escalating anxiety.
He clutched a file so thick it could have doubled as a weapon in a paper battle. His wife hovered by his side, wearing an expression that said, "We're in this together, for better or for medical bills." Their faces were a canvas of worry, and I could practically hear the suspenseful background music playing as they approached me.
"I need to see you urgently, Doctor," the man pleaded, his eyes darting around the room as if he were being pursued by invisible health horrors. I surveyed the other patients, who were quick to nod in agreement when I asked if they could wait a little longer. Their willingness hinted at the suspense building in the room.
The patient and his wife shuffled into my office, the man's desperation almost tangible. He thrust the massive file toward me like it was a treasure map to the Fountain of Youth. "Doctor, I'm seriously ill! Please check these reports. Everything is abnormal!" he exclaimed, his voice quivering with fear!
I eagerly opened the file, wondering how could the report be so bad! To my surprise, it was a saga of bizarre tests, a veritable soap opera of medical mysteries.
But it wasn't your run-of-the-mill pathology report. Oh no, this was something else entirely! It was a carnival of tests rarely seen in the world of medicine - levels of micronutrients, trace minerals that sounded more like alien elements than anything human, including chromium, selenium, molybdenum, and who knows what else! One report even mentioned hair root follicle analysis, while another displayed a colorful graph depicting a startlingly low sperm count. There were nearly 60 pages of this incomprehensible mumbo-jumbo!
Confused and a bit amused, I glanced at the patient and asked where he had gotten these tests done.
"Doctor, this healthcare company set up camp in our society," he explained with wide eyes, as if he'd just divulged a government secret. "They brought a computer and a printer, attached all these wires to my body, and voila, the computer analyzed my blood and gave me this report!"
My eyebrows arched in disbelief as I imagined a scene reminiscent of a B-grade sci-fi movie. "You know what, Doctor?" he continued, lowering his voice for dramatic effect, "In those fancy hospitals, this test costs around 20,000 bucks! But we got a discount—only 2,000!"
My emotions oscillated between amusement and pity. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The patient had fallen prey to a gang of medical charlatans, and it was my duty to break the news gently.
"I think you've been cheated," I said, trying to sound as compassionate as possible. "You should consider going to the police."
"But, Doctor!" he protested, his voice filled with hope against all odds. "I am a police constable, and I live in the police quarters. This report can't be wrong. All the policemen in our quarters got the test done!"
I was at a loss for words! The quacks had triumphed, and they'd managed to outwit the cops this time. I couldn't help but shake my head in amazement.
In the end, it was a humble reminder that even those sworn to protect and serve could fall victim to the absurdities of life. Spare a thought for ordinary people, indeed...
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Wait....
That's not the end of the story... The patient walked out of the clinic after being reassured by me that nothing was wrong with him. He had barely crossed the street when he turned around and hurriedly rushed back to me. I was hoping it was to thank me for my services. But apparently he had forgotten something...
"Doctor, can I have my file back please? The report is precious. I paid 2000 rupees for it!"
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- Dr. Vishal Marwah
(This is a TRUE story and not a work of fiction).
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