There he was walking along the corridor. He raised his eyebrow when he met my eyes but nothing too excited. Nothing too deliberate. He looks empty. Blank.
His body was hugged by a clean old navy blue robe. Around his neck lies a string of rosary -big enough to catch my visual acuity more than 6 feet away. There was this frown he wears -making him a lot older than he aged. His left hand was feeling for the texture of the wall while the other was running through the beads of rosary. Slowly dragging himself towards his bed -I think he tought I knew. And that he thought I was trying to put a brave front -for his sake.
He is a patient -like a lot of many other patients. Infact, like many other humans. He wanted to know but he is afraid of what he needs to know, wants to know and the quantity of how much he knows. He wanted to hope for better yet afraid of the worst. He wanted to prepare for the worst yet afraid it might take away the hope. He wanted to pray so much -without implying he is praying with hope. He wanted to thank God so much -without implying he is overjoyed. He wanted to tell God that it's okay, that he will love Him anyways -but also he was thinking if God can make a change of heart and gives him a second chance.
When the light is off -he wanted to cry, cry, just cry...
And although no one would have seen, no one would have known -he dare not. As he is a man. And he is tired playing "God, what if..."
The result of the scan was a page long. It is not wise to read between lines. This defines my patient's prognosis. Duration of life -days/months/years- on stake. I read it not once, not twice but three times. I 5MCC'd (5 Minutes Clinical Consult) few words I am not familiar with. The art of precision and accuracy needs the luxury of time and research. Especially when I am doing it by myself -I better do it right.
I was at the end of his bed but he was nowhere to be seen. Double-checking if I was on the right bed, I looked through my patient's list again. Movement captured the corner of my eye and I turned to the right. There he was standing 3 metres away from me and gave me the 'are you going to tell me now' look. He was so silent yet he conveyed 1001 words to me. I slowly pulled over the curtains and the first sentence he said was 'Can we wait for my wife doctor? I think she wants to know'.
But due to the new EWTD (European Working Time Directive), I was under pressure to tick my lists of numerous jobs. Being empathy is one thing but being efficient is far superior -so I have learned.
"Johnny (not real name)" I said "the result is in".
I pulled myself together into a professional mode. Affirmation and compassion -in one single monotonous voice. You want to say so much with so little emotion, you want to show concern with so little attachment.
"It shows localised tumour without any distant metastases. We think you are a good candidate for surgery".
His right hand rubbing his chest. He looked as if he skipped a heart beat and a breath of life. 'No metastases'. He kept repeating that words and broke into tears. He reached for my little hand, kissed it and said "Girl, I will always pray for you". I just stood there. My feet glued to the floor. Silent. Instead of spending the remaining few seconds to enjoy the good news with him, I was trying hard to convince myself not to cry.
I left that day with a smile. And the silent tale of a kiss!! =))
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