The Patient by Mohamed Khadra Page A

very hopeful.’ Jacob was smiling at the patient and her husband.
    â€˜Thank you, doctor. Thank you so much, to you and the whole team. You’ve been so wonderful. Thank you,’ said the woman. The couple were overwhelmed with gratitude. They had received a get-out-of-jail-free card. The fundamental happiness at being released from an almost-certain death sentence brings with it an afterglow of altered perception of the whole hospital system, and this couple were visibly going through these emotions now:cancer cured; the miracle of modern medicine; the nurses were lovely; the hospital was magical; it’s amazing what they can do these days. This woman had indeed been cured by the system, and she may well have received great treatment, so it was heartening to stand by as Jacob gave her the good news. Unfortunately, I knew that her positive experience of the health system was not universal.

7
    Jonathan got himself to work early and answered his messages. All the while, he was looking up at the clock. At 9.01, he rang the urologist’s rooms, which he had established were located not too far from his office.
    â€˜Our opening hours are eight-thirty to five o’clock, Monday to Friday. If you have an emergency, then please go to your nearest …’ The voice changed from a recording to a real person, a young woman. ‘Hello? Hello? How can I help you?’
    â€˜Hi, I need to make an appointment,’ said Jonathan.
    â€˜Can you hold for a moment?’ the receptionist said and was gone before Jonathan could say, ‘Well, I’m in a bit of a hurry.’ He was left listening to Big Ben-type chimes: four notes played in a variety of sequences, over and over again. Jonathan heard several renditions, and each time he got more agitated, more upset.
    â€˜Hello, have you been attended to?’ It was a different voice this time.
    â€˜No. I’m trying to make an appointment. I have blood –’
    â€˜Just hold the line. Shouldn’t be much longer.’ Big Ben played its tune again. Several minutes passed.
    â€˜Hello. Were you waiting to make an appointment?’ The first receptionist was back.
    â€˜Yes, please .’ Jonathan sounded exasperated.
    â€˜When would you like to see the doctor?’ she said.
    Jonathan consulted his diary. ‘Look, I have a spot between three and four this afternoon. I also have an opportunity around six this evening. Any of those times suit?’
    There was silence. The girl tittered. Jonathan was confused.
    â€˜I meant do you prefer a morning appointment or an afternoon appointment? The first available slot is in three months’ time. I can give you mornings or afternoons from then on.’
    The girl waited.
    â€˜Are you serious? Surely I can get an appointment sooner. It’s pretty urgent. I’ve had blood –’
    â€˜What do you want to do? I have other patients waiting,’ she said.
    â€˜Well, what choice do I have? I’ll take the earliest available afternoon slot, I suppose, but it’s not exactly … well …’
    â€˜Not a problem. I’ll post you an appointment card with the details. Please bring with you all the X-rays, blood-test results and any other tests you’ve had. Make sure you also bring the referral. There will be a charge of a hundred and fifty dollars, payable on the day. Thank you.’
    It was well rehearsed. Jonathan hung up the phone with resignation. The rest of the day, he dodged comments from his colleagues.
    â€˜Are you OK, mate?’
    â€˜You look fine.’
    â€˜I’m sure this is nothing.’
    â€˜A friend of mine had blood in his urine – turned out to be nothing more than an infection. These days, they can cure anything.’
    With each reassurance, Jonathan became more worried. He rang his wife. ‘Trace, the specialist can’t see me for three months.’
    â€˜Oh, babes, that’s crazy. I thought going private