Mr. MN is a regular patient in our hospital. A 70 yr old hypertensive and a diabetic, he comes for regular checkup.
Every one abhors him.
Cos of his rudeness.

He picks up a fight with everyone. To the op counter clerk, to the doctors, to the sisters, to lab staff’ to the x-ray technician’ to the pharmacist.

Added to it he has patches of leucoderma all over his body and his snarling face.

Today morning I walked towards my room. And there stood Mr MN commenting rudely about doctors arriving late for duty. The fact that I was a bit late added to my irritation. I walked in head high as if I had not heard him.

The lady hospital attendant walked in looking fraught.
'Horrible man.' He was abusing you very badly.
Before I could reply. Before I could lay down my bag and take my steth out Mr. MN barged into the room muttering loudly about doctors coming late. He sat down on the chair.
I couldn’t trust my self to speak. I just placed my bag on my table and walked out.
To control myself or to teach him a lesson? I don’t know. Maybe both.

:))
I returned about five minutes later. He sat staring at me coldly.

‘Come sit here. I pointed on the stool besides me.’

‘ Oh ! You have only a stool for examining patients? ‘
He glared at me.
I pretended not to hear.

‘Hmm tell me your symptoms.’

‘I have pain abdomen and numbness both legs and feet.’

'Hmm any vomiting?'

‘No. I had told about my pain abdomen to the doc who had seen me last time. He gave me some stupid medicines. I have no relief.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Is your blood sugar under control..? Show me the results.’

He took out the report.

‘That’s the report. Who knows if anyone can trust the lab reports?’

It went on and on. Me asking questions softly and him being bitchy.

I asked him to remove his shirt and lie down on the couch so that I could examine his tummy. Then I examined both the legs in detail. Talking very pleasantly and softly.

Slowly the rudeness started to crumble. He started to wring his hands shyly while answering my questions. His voice became soft.


I came back and sat down.

‘You seem to have hyperacidity
Are you under any tension?’

‘Yes doc. He said quietly.’

He then talked for forty minutes non-stop. Yes he had a lot of tension in his life. His wife suffered from paranoid schizophrenia.
Since the past thirty years.
She doesn’t go out of the house. She is paranoid of every one. Doesn’t trust anyone. Even their grandchildren.

He talked and talked I listened.

Finally I advised the tabs he had to take and the diet he had to follow. In detail.

He quietly listened.

He got up to leave. Reached the door and turned back
He smiled at me.

‘I’m sorry doc. Sometimes I cant help my self. I behave rudely I know.’
‘I understand. Its cos of your family problems. I smiled back.’

The poor poor man.

I had been seeing him for the past several years. But I had not bothered to find out the kind of life he lived.
‘Treat the ‘person’ not the disease.’ I remembered reading somewhere.
So true.

I looked forwards to seeing Mr. MN the next time.