his brings me to the end of today’s day. Seeing so many ‘patients’; one after the other, makes it very difficult to write a story about a single one. But then, the story must start from somewhere.
After a hectic OPD me and Saira return back to our ward. Both of us have our trendy shades on. Roaming around with someone as pleasant as her is a treat!
One look at my beds tells me that I have a new patient. There he is, thin, lean, lying on bed. Well, he looks stable, so why not take a few minutes break and then start writing his history.
A packet of chips, half a bottle of water and after the afternoon prayers, I am back at the bedside. Now, the patient is busy. He is having some fish curry. I ask him to continue his meal and ask his father for his history. I ask his father the necessary questions, meanwhile he nibbles his lunch away. After I am through with his father and he with his meal, I come to know that luckily I got better history extracted from his father as compared to him.
His name is Abdul, 22 years old. He has small eyes and large ears, probably to see less and listen more.
I ask him who does he think I am? He stares blankly. Then I give him examples that “I am: a doctor, teacher or a shop keeper?”, and he replies so matter-of-factly that you are a teacher!
Who says he has a low IQ?!?!
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