World Cup: My Thoughts

imageWorld Cup: My Thoughts

The World Cup could quite rightly be regarded as the most popular international sporting activity. Unlike previous tournaments, I watched all the matches featured in the 20th World Cup. Like previous matches, people made predictions as to which teams were likely to play the finals, and most importantly, which team would win the coveted cup.

No one would have predicted that Spain, the then cup holder would be knocked out so soon or Italy and France would not qualify in the group stage. It was unthinkable that Brazil, that one would bet on winning the finals, suffered a humiliating 7-1defeat in the hands of Germany.

As I watched the matches, my thoughts were challenged in many ways. I watched as people danced, laughed and threw themselves on the floor when their teams scored. I also watched people crying, as if they were bereaved, when their teams lost. Of course, there had been incidents in previous matches that had caused anger or controversy. I remembered when England lost to Argentina through a goal that was thought to be scored by Diego Maradona’s hand. This was accepted as a genuine goal although many people believed the legend used his hand, dubbed ‘Hand of God‘ to score the goal.

Whilst the unexpected winners and losers might have surprised me, one thing I could not get out of my head was the incident where a player bit another on the shoulder. I cast my mind back decades ago when I was a kid playing on the village Primary School lawn or on the sandy beach. I could not remember a time when a kid bit another kid during matches. And yet a professional millionaire footballer with international fame allegedly did that in the 2014 World Cup.

I could not help asking myself, “Why is it that human beings have made ‘Winning’ a do or die phenomenon? Is it one of those unwritten natural characteristics of human beings?” I also asked myself, “Why is it that some teams are so good that they always do well and others play so poorly you could bet they would lose?” As I watched the matches, my thoughts took me back through previous tournaments. It was not by political strength, country size, military or economic strength that countries had won. Champions were not made by all these virtues but by the quality of the teams.

Winning is great and, of course, it’s rewarding for the players who have put great efforts into the matches. However, we must not forget that football is a game at the end of the day. What I really mean is that, first and foremost, it is to be enjoyed and there should be no grudge or malicious act. There is nothing wrong with a ‘Win, win’ attitude but winning by any means including malicious attack verbally or physically on fellow players is unprofessional. In my humble opinion, I do not believe that football is worth dying or killing for. Win if you can, but if you lose, at least you have entertained.

Germany and Argentina deservedly played the finals. I enjoyed the match as neither of them was my favourite team which was good as I was able to watch it with an unbiased mind, applauding as appropriate. In truth, either of the teams could have won, but by fate, it was Germany that, in the end, lifted the coveted trophy. Germany was arguably the best team in the tournament and the first European country to win in the American continent.

Winners come, winners go, but human attitude changes little. If there is anything to take home from the World Cup 2014, it will be remembered as one in which the odds were beaten. Brazil suffered a humiliating defeat on its own soil and a player recklessly bit another player. No team has the prerogative of being unbeatable. Who knows? May the next World Cup would be won by an underdog, perhaps one of the African or Asian countries that has never won. We shall see.

Clear your Clutter

imageClear your Clutter

I visited Martin in response to his wife’s telephone call. I had known the family for nearly twenty years. They seemed to be happy and all their children have graduated from the University. When Suzie rang me at 2 A.M I initially hesitated, and advised that I could talk to Martin after work the following day. My heart stopped when she warned with a shaky voice, “He would be gone by then.”
“Gone! What do you mean, ‘gone’?” I asked, thinking that they were going to split up. But would they split a thirty-year marriage? “He’s planned to do it. And I know, for sure, he will do it.” She sobbed.

“Can I have a word with him?” I asked, still thinking it was something to do with their marriage.

“He won’t talk to anyone. He’s been talking about hanging for the past few days. He’s got another letter. He says he can’t cope any more.” She replied, still sobbing.

“O.K. I’ll be on my way. Keep talking to him. Right?”

Martin had locked himself in their study. Suzie reported that he had not eaten or drunk all day. I cautiously knocked at the door and was glad that he had unlocked the door. The study was nothing but a tip with envelopes opened and unopened, papers rumpled and squeezed, littering everywhere. Unlike Dr Braver’s study with elegantly arranged books, papers and magazines, you would think Martin’s study was a public tip. He just kept to himself, refusing to talk. He sat on the floor in the midst of the heaps of papers, with his head in his hands, looking tired and disheveled. I stood at the door, trying to figure out how to deal with the threat to commit suicide. I needed to talk him out of it and find out how I could help. I was a trusted friend of the family. After all, that was why Suzie had called me. To talk to my friend.

“I’m completely fed up.” He finally broke the silence, and after shaking his head, added, “My life is in a mess. Real mess.”

Relieved that he had acknowledged my presence and had opened up, I walked cautiously and sat on the floor beside him. “Can we talk?” I asked, as I gently placed my hand on his shoulder.

Martin told me that he had been battling with financial problems for sometime. He was fed up with letters coming through his door everyday. He didn’t know how things had got that far despite the fact that he was a good man and a hard working person. He looked up briefly, shook his head and buried it again between his thighs. As far as he was concerned, he had tried “everything.” His life was in a mess and there was nothing left.

After an initial reluctance, Martin agreed to listen to me and for us to work together to see how we could solve the problems. I advised him that he must first clear his clutter. He didn’t quite get that. I repeated, “Martin, you must first clear your clutter.” I advised that he could not solve his problems by ignoring them. Problems cannot solve themselves. For a start, he must open all the letters, file whatever needed to be filed and bin anything else. He needed to contact his creditors and negotiate with them. He could not continue to ignore his bills. After a long talk, my friend promised me that he would take positive steps to address his debt problems.

I visited Martin two weeks later. He proudly took me to his study, and with a smile on his face, he said, “Thank you.” Martin had taken the bold step to contact his creditors and had decided to act and never ignore his problems.

Situations like Martin’s are very common. People allow problems to mount due to inactivity and procrastination. I have learnt from experience that problems don’t sole themselves. They need someone to solve them. A big problem breeds smaller ones, and if you provide the fertile ground, they would flourish and overwhelm you. My advice is: You’ve got to clear your clutter and start to take action. Try this and you avoid being in the same state as Martin was.

Bullies Are Wimps

imageBullies are wimps

I recently watched the video of a four-year old boy whose family’s cat rescued from being savaged by a dog. The little boy was riding his bike in front of their house when the unprovoked dog attacked him. The surveillance video showed the dog biting and attempting to drag the boy down the sidewalk. The cat saw the incident on their surveillance video in the living room. Within seconds, the cat leaped out of the house, jumped in front of the dog and chased it away.

The hero cat was not up to a quarter of the dog in size. In fact, based on size alone, the dog could quite easily throw its weight on it and crush it to death. And, of course, it could snap its neck between its powerful jaws. But the monstrous dog was gripped with fear. It couldn’t even bark. Instead, it ran as fast as it could.

One could analyse this event in several plausible ways. Could it be that the dog thought other members of the family were after it? Could it be a sense of guilt and it had to run away to save its face. Perhaps the dog was not as strong as it looked. I concur with the last plausible explanation as I believe the dog simply behaved in a typical way.

Typical way? Yes, I say, “Typical way.” This is typical of bullies. They shout and create fear. Look at gang leaders, for example. They often don’t carry weapons but are surrounded by tougher gang members. He controls them by shouting and intimidating them even though they are stronger than him.

The truth is, BULLIES ARE WIMPS. He may be larger than a mountain gorilla. That doesn’t mean he is strong. After all, the adder may be small but no one dares to step on its tail. The needle may be small but it’s not for the cock to swallow. Dr Chuks should have realised this the first time he met Dr Braver. See what happened when Dr Braver’s son had acute appendicitis and they suggested to him that Dr Bigfellow should do Oliver’s appendicectomy. He melted like a scoop of ice cream in the Sahara Desert. “Oh no. Not him,” Dr Braver replied, like a little child who has met his phobia. “My God. Look at those big hands! Those hands are too big to perform an appendicectomy on a tiny creature like Oliver. Gosh! He will slash him from chin to shin.”

There are bullies everywhere. And there are life situations that act as bullies as well. You may have a boss who is so intimidating that you can’t even find the courage to ask for a pay rise. May be you have been diagnosed with cancer or other serious medical conditions. Or you have a phobia that is robbing you of your quality of life. Don’t allow bullies to put you down. Stand up to them and you will discover the truth – they are not as tough as they look. They are wimps!

If you want to read more about the life of a wimp, CLICK

I Can’t Pronounce This

imageI Can’t Pronounce This

I don’t like visiting doctors. Not that I don’t like the medical profession. Of course, my own doctor is excellent in every way. She is caring and trustworthy. But maybe it’s just because I am a man. Men don’t like to complain about their health and so tend to delay going to see their doctors. Women, on the other hand, generally seek help early.

As expected, the waiting room was packed full with women and elderly people. I quietly went in, avoiding any eye contact and settled in one of the chairs at the far end of the room, hoping that I wouldn’t have to stay long before they called me in for my health check.

As I sat down, one nurse came to the door with a piece of paper in her hand. She looked at the paper and murmured something. All the people in the room turned their faces to my side. I didn’t know what to make of it. I felt uncomfortable, and almost asked the receptionist if there was something that I was supposed to do that I hadn’t done. I brought out my phone and started playing one of my favourite games. I just needed something to take my attention.

The nurse appeared again through the door. After clearing her throat, she scratched her head and murmured something again. This time I thought I heard, “Mr O … I can’t pronounce this.” She went back in as the people in the waiting room turned their faces to my side. Then the old woman who sat next to me, asked, “Is that you?” Not knowing what she meant, I replied, “Sorry?”

“Oh, I thought the nurse was calling you.” The old woman said.

“I didn’t hear her call my name.”

“I think she is finding it difficult to call your name.

I didn’t want to be rude to this woman. But I couldn’t help asking her, “How did you know that she can’t pronounce my name?”

“We don’t hear many names like that here.” She replied.

“Oh, I see.” I said.

Just then, the nurse appeared at the door, and after looking at the piece of paper in her hand, walked towards me. I pretended to be busy playing my game and avoided her eye contact.

“Mr, em, I can’t pronounce your name. You’re next.” She said, as she tapped my shoulder.

I looked up. Of course, my name is not “Mr I can’t pronounce your name.” Trying not to be rude to the nurse or create a scene, I politely informed her, “The name is Olusegun Popoola. All the alphabets are English, my dear.”

“Oh!” She said, but she never tried to master the pronunciation of my name.

As I followed this nurse into her room for my health check, I wondered how Dr Chukwuemeka Azuibike would have felt when Dr Braver asked him what his name meant in English.

If you want to make someone welcomed, call his name and if you can say a word or two in their language, the better. Try this and your client will not feel alienated.

If you want to befriend a people, learn to speak their language, call them by their names, respect their beliefs and values, understand and respect their differences and they will in return bestow their trust on you.

imageStick out your neck

The tortoise can quite rightly be described as an ugly animal. But there are many things about it that I admire. With a lifespan of 150-200 years, it is one of the longest living vertebrae, and certainly lives longer than humans. It is cunning, shrewd and a bit like Dr Braver.

There are so many African tales about the tortoise. One of the tales is about why the tortoise has no hair on its head. It is said, one day, the tortoise visited his in-laws. His mother in-law prepared a delicious meal consisting of yam pottage. The tortoise enjoyed the meal but instead of asking his in-law to give him some of it to take home, he decided to pilfer. He and his wife had got ready to leave but he told her he needed to use the loo before setting off. Whilst they were all waiting for him in front of the house, he sneaked to the kitchen, filled his hat with the hot pottage and put his pottage-filled hat back on his head. He returned to join his family and they set off on their return journey. As they were going, he could not bear the pain on his head. He had to confess to his wife what he had done. He took off his hat but it was too late, as the heat from the hot pottage had badly burnt his scalp leaving no single hair on his head. Since that day, the tortoise has remained bald.

What I really like about the tortoise is that it has to stick out its neck in order to move. Whenever I watch this reptile as it goes about its daily needs, it makes me aware of our life as humans. Life throws so many obstacles and challenges at us. The tortoise sometimes hides within its shell for protection. Like the tortoise, there are times when we have to retreat to do some thinking. We may even sometimes hide away from danger.

There will be times in your life when you will have to stick your neck out. There will be challenges but instead of hiding in a shell, you have to go and face them. Stand up to your challenges. That was exactly what Dr Chuks did to survive the almighty Dr Braver.

10 Habits of a Pathological Latecomer

image10 Habits of a Pathological Latecomer

You wonder why some people would never get to a meeting on time. They often miss their transport, miss hospital appointments and even arrive late for job interviews. They always turn late to events and never seem to bother about the consequence. They tend not to accept that they have a problem, thinking it is just them. Someone who is a habitual latecomer irrespective of the event can be defined as a Pathological Latecomer.

I have identified ten habits (there are probably more) that are common with a pathological latecomer. If you often arrive late at important events it may be wise to do a self-check to see if you have the following characteristics:

Late Sleeper

As the saying goes, ‘Early to bed, early to rise.’ People who are pathologically late have the habit of sleeping late and waking late. Of course, some people have set their biological time to work best in the early hours of the night and get their tasks accomplished and still wake up early enough not to be late for work. Pathological latecomers can’t do that.

2. Hates the alarm

It is normal for people to set the alarm clock to wake them up early enough to get ready and not be late to work. Occasionally, you are so tired that you wish to continue with your sleep. Pathological latecomers won’t ever use the alarm, believing that ‘their body knows when to wake up.’ They don’t like being woken up.

3. No sense of time

They tend to underestimate time needed to accomplish a task. Even though he knows the accurate distance to his work place and the travelling time, the pathological latecomer leaves home at a time much shorter than it would normally take, all things being normal, believing he would ‘make it.’ When doing tasks, he is fond of statements like, ‘Oh it will only take me three minutes,’ for a task that will perhaps take at least twenty minutes.

4. Asks someone for time when he has his own wristwatch

Have you wondered why someone would have his wristwatch on and still asks you, ‘What is the time now?’ This is because the pathological latecomer hates time. Although he has asked about time he really doesn’t want to know.

5. Gets angry when reminded he is getting late.

Tell him, ‘Hurry up, we are getting late,’ and he gets angry. That’s a typical pathological latecomer.

6. Does not like to be the first to arrive

Typically, he feels uneasy to be the first person at an event. He likes to arrive ‘just in time’ when everyone is in ‘full swing.’ When he arrives he likes to be noticed.

7. Full of excuses for his lateness

The latecomer always finds something to blame for his lateness. Today, it’s the traffic. Tomorrow it’s the weather. There’s always an excuse.

8. Unable to prioritise

This is a common cause of lateness. Always has one more thing to do: one more phone call to make, one more email to reply to, or one more load of laundry to put away before leaving.

9. Finds it hard to choose what to wear

The pathological latecomer can’t make up his mind about what to wear. He tries this, tries that and changes his mind at the last minute.

10. Disorganised lifestyle

His house is disorganised, having a lot to deal with: wife can’t find her phone, daughter can’t find her music book, or wife has to re-style her hair, so he’s late. He often misplaces his keys, wallet, phone, etc. Not only is it hard for him to organise himself but he also has to help other family members to get organised.

Super Power Clash

bm_python_crocodileSuper Power Clash

When I was a kid growing up in Africa I saw dogs fighting dogs for a bone, and cats mewing at each other for a share of a hunted mouse. It was commonplace to watch two bulls showing their masculinity in front of a potential cow to bear their offsprings. Cockerel fight was an everyday occurrence. I often wondered what the clash between a lion and a tiger would be or that of a rhinoceros and a hippo. I imagined what it would look like when a python and a crocodile clashed.

Recently, I watched a Sky TV documentary on the Animal Planet channel about the clash between a python and a crocodile. I subsequently watched the video on Yahoo! Videos. The snake went into the water and preyed on the crocodile. At one point they both looked tired, I thought they would call it a day and go their own ways. But I was wrong. These monstrous reptiles resumed their fight for survival. In the end, after the gruesome five-hour ordeal, the snake showed its supremacy and made a meal of the crocodile.

Although this episode fulfilled my childhood fantasy, it also aroused another imagination. What would happen if two super powers clash in this era of nuclear technology? Something to think about.

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dbfrontDR WORKAHOLIC

Dr Braver stood up and faced his wife. And pointing his fingers at her face, he roared, “Don’t you ever call me mad, stupid woman!” Mrs Braver stepped backward and shouted venomously, “You know what you are? An idiot. That’s what you are, Dr workaholic.” “There’s nothing wrong with being a good doctor. I do my job dedicatedly, caring for my patients. And if that in your dictionary is ‘workaholic‘ that’s your problem.” “Maybe it’s my problem but other dedicated doctors have time for their family.” “Of course, I have time for my family. What d’you mean I don’t have time for my family?” “Nonsense! Nonsense upon nonsense,” Jezzie snapped as she stepped forward, her face almost touching her husband’s. Dr Braver lowered his voice and reassured Mrs Braver, “You know I care about you lot. I care so much,” he said, as he gently touched his wife’s shoulder. Mrs Braver stepped backwards and turned her face away as she said, “If you care about your family then you would not ignore the message I left that your son has been taken ill.” Dr Braver shouted almost ripping his vocal cords. “No. That can’t be true. I had no such message. You know I will never ignore your call.” “No I don’t. At least not when you are at work.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Jezzie. I may be dedicated to my job. Or perhaps eccentric at times. But that does not mean that I don’t care about my family.” “Don’t tell me you care about the family,” Jezzie snapped, “Of course you don’t.” Then the couple stared accusingly at each other in an uncomfortable tranquility. The argument had been going on for over twenty minutes. Unknown to them, Oliver had sneaked out of the living room in search of peace. Of course, he was used to this kind of argument. When his parents had an argument, neither of them would pipe low for the other. He sat on the floor of his room and Lionheart lay down sympathetically beside him. BUY FROM AMAZON

THE DOG AND ITS MASTER

dbfrontThe Dog And Its Master

 Dr Braver pulled into his drive as the large gate flung open. He whistled sonorously as the gate slowly closed behind him. It was already dark.

“Darling I’m home,” he announced, as he slammed the door of his black Buick.

Jezzie turned her back on the window, ignoring her husband. Dr Braver tiptoed towards the window and tapped gently. Jezzie turned momentarily and simply nodded as she carried on with her telephone conversation.

Lionheart pushed itself through the ajar kitchen door and wagged its tail enthusiastically as Dr Braver stroked the well groomed back of the 6-stone boxer dog passionately. At that moment, the dog and its master seemed to be in their own world, completely detached from everyone. Dr Braver knelt down and gazed affectionately into the sparkling eyes of his companion and muttered sarcastically, “At least someone knows that I am someone.”

A few minutes later, the moment began to fade between the two outcasts. Dr Braver, now allowed his gaze to fall through the window.  His wife, still on the phone, was gesticulating madly but Dr Braver couldn’t tell from these actions how far the conversation had progressed. The barrier between husband and wife resulted in an unnatural silence on both sides.

Jezzie glanced out of the window, seemingly bored of the phone conversation, looking for an escape route. However, the couple’s eyes met unexpectedly and were locked in a cold embrace where each saw deep into each other’s soul.

Suddenly, Jezzie rolled her eyeballs through the slits between the thick layers of the variegated eye shadow. And with a swift flick of her hair, her head was turned away from the window again.

Dr Braver knew that trouble was waiting for him inside.

Nonchalantly, he strolled through the now fully open front door and closed it gently behind him. At that moment Jezzie said, as she hung up the phone, “l’ll talk to you later.”

Jezzie replaced the phone and braced herself up as she stood facing her husband. Her eyes were now almost tearing her eyelids apart with lancinating ferocity. Husband and wife were now watching each other, like tiger and lion, both capable of inflicting terrible wounds on each other and yet, neither would challenge the other.

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The Heartsink Patient

dbfrontThe Heartsink Patient

As I sat in my consulting room waiting for the nurse to fetch notes from Dr Braver’s room, I heard a light tap on my door but no one entered when I said, “Come in.” I walked to the door and as I opened, the auxiliary nurse had been struggling to open the door with one hand whilst the other hand supported the huge sets of notes to her chest. I helped her with the door as I wondered why, after a long period when I virtually did nothing, I now had to see so many patients within the remaining period and the clinic would be ending shortly.

Dr Braver has had to leave. I think it might be his wife that phoned him as he seemed to be in a hurry when he left. You know what he’s like when Mrs Braver phones. Sounded like he was taking her to the hair dresser.”

“So, he wants me to see all of these this morning? Tough.”

“Yes. He said you should make sure you see all the patients and phone him with every case that you saw.” The auxiliary nurse said, as she carefully placed the notes on the floor close to my desk.

“This must be a joke!” I exclaimed, “Never mind. Hopefully he would return to the clinic.”

“I doubt very much.” She said, as she prepared to call the first of the patients into my consulting room.

My heart sank as the auxiliary nurse ushered in the patient. I had seen her before and I felt like telling her to rebook on another day to see the boss himself. She was a patient that never smiled. She looked thinner than she did the last time that I saw her and the look on her face today was that of the devil just woken. But that wasn’t the reason why my heart sank. The first time I saw her was on the ward when she was admitted for investigation of her abdominal pain. Dr Braver had recommended an exploratory laparotomy to her. But she declined. That did not surprise me after reading her case history. The first operation that she had was laparoscopic appendicectomy, the removal of the appendix through the keyhole method. Prior to having the operation, she had been complaining of pain in the lower part of her tummy. Dr Braver told her that she had a grumbling appendix and that her pain would settle after he had removed the appendix. She suffered an injury to her large bowel which resulted in having a colostomy. On her insistence, Dr Braver took her back to theatre to rejoin the bowels after three weeks. The joined bowels broke down and Dr Braver yet again took her back to theatre to have the colostomy restored. The restored stoma broke down and she had to undergo further surgery. After four weeks Dr Braver had planned to close her colostomy but she developed a deep vein thrombosis. Now her legs were permanently swollen. She was still complaining of abdominal pain. She was as thin as bone and smoked like a chimney.

“Oh he is not here today!” she said, as she settled down in the chair in front of me.

“Im sorry, Dr Braver has had to go to attend to an emergency,” I said, seeing the disappointment on her face. Normally, patient like her would be seen by the consultant as they usually were too complex for the junior doctor and were not satisfied.

“How come no one had told me?” She shouted. And after coughing several times, her chest still rattling, she said, “And I have sat down there for two hours waiting to see the consultant!”

“I am sorry.” I said, with empathy.

I didn’t know what else to say. She was right. Someone should have told her she was not going to see Dr Braver. At least, it would have been up to her to decide if she would like to see me. It made me wonder how many patients waiting out there were hoping to see the consultant.

“Not your fault, I guess,” she said, as she stared uncomfortably into my eyes.

“So how can I help you today?” I asked, unsure of her reason for her attendance. According to Dr Braver’s last letter to her GP, he had discharged her from his clinic. But she was now back and I could not find her new referral letter. It was probably in Dr Braver’s folder. He usually kept such letters in a special folder.

“You can’t help me. Look at the mess he had made on my tummy.” She got up and lifted her shirt to show me several scars on her abdomen.

“I see.” I said.

But I didn’t think that was the reason she had come back to see him. I waited expectantly to hear what more she was going to say.

“My pain has got worse. It’s tummy pain day in day out. I can’t eat. Look at me. I am now a walking skeleton.” She said, tears streaming out of her deep orbits.

“You said you can’t eat. What happens when you try to eat?” I asked.

“I have a good appetite but I daren’t put anything in my mouth.” She replied.

“Why?” I asked and screwed my eye.

“You are asking me, why? Have you not been listening. Or are you too telling me I am mad?” She shouted.

“Who said you were mad?” I asked softly.

Him. The God himself. Luckily he is not here today. I would have shown him that I am truly a mad woman.”

“That sounds serious.” I cleared my throat and paused to regain my composure. “What about if I  asked you to tell me more about how eating affects your stomach pain?”

She coughed again and almost choked as she replied, “When the food gets to my stomach I start with severe pain and this can go on for several hours. I am sweaty and feeling faint. The pain is so severe. It’s murder. I just can’t face food any more. Sometimes I thought it was better to die than live like this, because this is no life.”

After further questioning, I suspected that this woman had Mesenteric angina caused by some narrowing in the arteries of the bowels. This condition is common in long term heavy cigarette smokers. Patients with this condition have severe pain in their abdomen after eating. This is because, after eating, there is not enough blood flow to the bowels due to the narrowing of the arteries. I told her to lie down on the examination couch. And when I placed the bell of my stethoscope on the top part of her abdomen, I heard a loud bruit. I became more convinced of my diagnosis, but still needed to confirm it.

I wasn’t sure if that was the problem with this woman. But I thought it would be prudent to rule it out. Nevertheless, I was careful not to raise her hope, knowing that Dr Braver could disagree with me, particularly, since that would make him feel less knowledgeable should that be the diagnosis. And of course, he could override my decision.

“So, what are you going to do?” She asked, now almost pleading.

“I am just thinking. I’m not sure. I just wondered if we should rule out a condition that can sometimes cause this kind of pain. But that would mean having to undergo further tests.”

“I don’t care what tests you do as long as you find out what the problem is. Nothing can be worse than the pain I have been having.” Her face became less narrow, showing a glimpse of hope.

“Okay then. I just need to nip to the X-ray department to chat with the radiologist.” I said.

The woman needed to have a special scan to diagnose the problem. I had to do this before Dr Braver got to know. I knew I was taking a risk. If the scan turned out to be negative it would be real trouble. But if the diagnosis was confirmed it would be a relief for everyone although he would still criticise me for taking the liberty to organise an MRI scan without first discussing with him.

In the twinkle of an eye I had arrived in the X-ray department. I was glad that Dr Grayson was the duty radiologist. Unlike his colleagues, he was approachable and knew a great deal of clinical medicine. Having initially trained as a surgeon before becoming a radiologist, he was always very helpful when surgeons needed radiological input. Dr Grayson agreed with my suspicion. Fortunately, there was a cancellation and he was willing to perform the procedure that afternoon if the patient was prepared.

I raced back to the OPD, relieved that I was able to organise an MRI Angiogram within a few minutes, something that would normally take several weeks to arrange.

“You will be having your scan this afternoon madam.” I said, with a beam of smile.

“Oh thank you, doctor. Thank you. You are God sent.” She jumped up. Suddenly, her strength returned from nowhere. And for the first time after many months, she smiled as she hoped to see a way out of her predicament.

“I am not promising. And I’m not even sure if we will find anything. But I believe it’s worth a try.”

“As I said, I will try anything.” She said.

“Now, you better go and get yourself ready before Dr Grayson changes his mind.”

“Thank you again, Doctor.” She said, as she shut the door behind her.

Just before I called the next patient, there was a tap on the door. I thought the woman had come back to decline the MRI scan.

“What have you done to that woman?” Sister Bamforth asked, as she pushed through the door.

“Which woman?” I puzzled.

“The patient that you’ve sent to the X-ray department. She was singing your praises as the nurse took her to the department.”

“Oh God. I hope I have not raised her hope too highly.”

“I don’t think it mattered to her. And I don’t think anyone can stop her either.” She said.

“Oh well, I wish her good luck.” I said, trying to stop the discussion going further. I really didn’t have time for further gossips.

“You know the problem you have now got, doctor?”

“What?” I asked.

“The patients are now changing their mind. Many of them were trying to rebook their appointment. But they are now waiting to see you. That means, a long clinic.” She replied.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” I tried to draw the discussion to an end.

“Sure.” She said, as she swiftly walked out of the room.

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