My appointment with the Doctor!

It was time for my next appointment with my Doctor. In fact I had been rehearsing my meeting with him for the last three days. My wife kept cautioning me about my tendency to indulge in light-hearted banter with the Doctor and miss out on the essential problems that kept me down from time to time. She also categorically refused to accompany me this time pointing out how she walked into his chamber with me in the pink of her health last time and walked out as a chronically ill patient. So realizing that it was going to be totally a one to one show this time, my nervousness was trying to breach its earlier record.

On the appointed day, I was there in the clinic 45 minutes ahead of my appointment. There were about dozen people with tell tale signs of something or other troubling them. All of them seemed anxious that whatever they were suffering from had a name so that the Doctor could easily treat them. They were obviously not ready for undergoing some fancy diagnostic tests to be told ultimately that there was nothing wrong with them. I also hate spending money on diagnostic tests unless the results pointed to a decent ailment which I can brag about in the club. When the receptionist called out my name to inform that I would be the next to see the Doctor, I stiffened a bit. I looked into the bag to make a cursory check of all the reports that I had brought.

The door of the Doctor’s chamber opened finally and an elderly lady walked out accompanied by a younger version of her. I moved in with a bright smile which I had been practicing since morning. The Doctor did not seem to notice it as he beckoned me to sit on a small metal stool for which most of the Doctors had a singular preference. I sat on it as gingerly as an elephant would sit in a circus. I took out my reports and spread them out on his table. He pushed them aside and asked me to tell him briefly what was troubling me. ‘It is about my left hand’, I told him. He knew that I had just started my narration and waited to hear more like an eager child listening to his bed time story. ‘I have a peculiar feeling of an insect crawling up and down my hand frequently’, I added. ‘Could it be a spider?’ asked the Doctor. Seeing that I was not too sure about the spider, he suggested a cockroach. A shudder passed through my massive frame when I heard that name and told him that I always kept a minimum distance of 500 meters from that loathsome insect.

‘That’s very interesting’ said the Doctor. He went on to add that the fear of cockroaches was the birth-right of women and was hardly noticed among men. According to the statistics available with him, I belonged to a meager 1% of the Indian male population that exhibited fear for cockroaches. This might require attention of a psychiatrist as it pointed out to a deeper malady. ‘You are suffering from katsaridaphobia and that’s not a good thing for a man’ he declared. My original complaint of insect crawling sensation in my left hand slowly receded into the background as the Doctor went on to explain the various ramifications of katsaridaphobia. He handed me a business card of a head-shrinker as P.G.Wodehouse would always refer to psychiatrists. ‘If you get this fear of cockroaches out of your system, 50% of your ailments will take care of themselves’ he assured me.

I collected my reports and moved out of his room as the next patient waiting at the door gave me a menacing look. Obviously our cockroach discussion inside might have taken a lot more time than the Doctor normally spent on each patient. The Receptionist collected Rs.400/- from me after a brief intercom talk with the Doctor. I dragged myself away from the clinic as I knew that the reception at home was going to be rather unpleasant. To tell you the truth, my encounters with my Doctor never left my wife tickled!

 

Dear Suryakala
That was a fast response! Thank you! Honestly my habit of rambling even with Doctors eventually sidetrack my original complaints and only after I come out I realise that we have not discussed a word about my real problem. Further I also earn the displeasure of my fellow patients for taking more time with the Doctor! If they come to know that I discussed cockroaches with him, they would kill me!
Sri

 

Dear Suryakala
That's the main problem with my Doctor who is also a rambler like me. If you will recall, he pushed aside all my reports and asked me to talk about my problem. He does not like papers spread in front of him. To tell you the truth, he prides himself with the cleanliness of his table! So we are forced to express our problems orally from our memory. But there is also an advantage in this system. We come to learn of a lot of new things from him. He is quite well informed even in matters relating to cockroaches. I do love my visits to him!
Sri

 

Dear Syamala
Your statement about your dad is a bit confusing. You say that he gets ready by 6 in the morning for an appointment at 10.30. but you have not told us if it is A.M. or P.M. My father in law would be restless from early morning to catch a train late night! He would be pacing the floor restlessly the whole day and worrying everyone around. All because he missed a train once and the scar of it never healed! In his case it was not a question of discipline but the fear of missing the train again. Further ageing had made him less athletic for attempting to board a moving train.

When I went to meet my Doctor to discuss the insect-crawling sensation in my hand, I was thinking of some lovable and harmless insects but he put me off completely by mentioning spiders and the loathsome cockroaches! That is how I got totally diverted. Coming to your doubt, I do assist my wife in driving away crawling cockroaches but when they take to wings, we all disappear into thin air. More than anything else, I hate the odour of a flying cockroach.
Sri