Failing the test

This was an elective procedure and had therefore been planned well in advance. I knew the drill. Just having my daughter-in-law accompany me for two days at the hospital would require major rescheduling on both the home and work fronts. She would have to apply for leave and ensure that the household help came in earlier on both days and didn’t decide to take a day off herself. The kitchen would have to be well stocked. Dishes cooked and labelled. Tiffins planned in advance. Taking a break from the shackles of routine was no easy task.

After a long day spent undergoing various check-ups and tests, I was lying in the hospital bed, all set for my hysterectomy. Early the next morning, a nursing assistant came to shave the surgical field—my belly and below. By 8:00 a.m., I was fully prepped and ready, dressed in a freshly starched green gown and waiting to be wheeled into the operating theatre. Mine was supposed to be the first case of the day, but somehow, even by 8:15 a.m., no one had come to take me there.

At 8:20 a.m., a young trainee doctor rushed into the room with an anxious, almost wild look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to reschedule your surgery for tomorrow.”

I couldn’t believe it.

Keeping my voice steady, I asked, “Is there something wrong? Was something missed during my pre-anaesthetic check-up?”

He shifted uncomfortably and mumbled, “No, no, everything is perfectly fine.”

I felt a little dizzy thinking of all the arrangements that had been made just for this day. As my daughter-in-law rushed out to the balcony—where the signal was better—to call home and try to rearrange everything, I continued questioning the young doctor. “Why was it postponed?”

He was sweating profusely now. “Madam is on leave today.”

“Oh! What happened?”

“She called in this morning and said she was availing her period leave.”

I smiled understandingly. “Oh, how wonderful that lady doctors can avail such benefits. I could never do so in my heyday.”

My smile seemed to make the young trainee nervous. He looked at me suspiciously. “Are you not angry?”

“No. But why do you ask?”

He frowned and stared at his feet. “The last time we had to postpone a case, the patient became so angry that she threatened to burn down the East Wing of the hospital. And the patient before that swore to drag us to court for hiring lady doctors when we knew such allowances had to be made.”

I shook my head with a clucking noise. “How can people be so insensitive?”

He continued looking at me strangely. “In fact, no patient has ever been as understanding as you are about a last-minute postponement of surgery due to period leave.”

I waved a hand generously.

He continued.“…so much so… that we feel you may be too good to be true.”

I raised an eyebrow and smiled. “So tell me, young man, how do I prove that I am for real?”

He hesitated before replying. “There is only one proven way.”

Now I was curious. “And what is that?”

His eyes shifted toward the mirror near the washbasin.

“It’s a time-tested method. If your reflection appears in the mirror, you are real. Otherwise, you’re not.”

Being a 1990s movie buff myself, I was well aware of this trick, so I obliged by stepping beside my bed in full view of the mirror. We both stared at the reflection. His sneaking suspicion was spot on. The understanding and sympathetic person who genuinely believes a woman is entitled to period leave doesn’t exist.

For in the reflection, there was only one of us.

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