Pee aur jee

Now that the entire waiting room of patients and their relatives at The Apollo Clinic on a certain evening know about mom’s UTI, it stands to reason that you should be similarly apprised of the situation.

“No need for appointment, ma’am. You can walk in,” said the receptionist over the phone.

Mom was suitably impressed. “No appointment?” she thought, thinking back to her other life where it was usually next to impossible to see a doctor the same day. “So, you think you might be pregnant? Let’s see now, Dr. Very-Busy has no openings until spring. Would you like to call back?”

Mom was equally thrilled when the receptionist didn’t ask her the nature of the problem. “Doctor-patient confidentiality,” she presumed, comparing it to schedulers in more developed countries. “You say you’re passing white stools? Hmmm, that’s odd. Too much white chocolate, hon’?”

“Maybe that’s why desis speak highly of medical care in India,” thought mom, as she walked into the clinic. As she waited her turn, mom filled out a registration form, frowning when she came to the religion question. “None of your business,” she wanted to write, leaving the spot blank. For some reason, the practice wasn’t concerned as much about her blood group as it was about her religion.

When her turn arrived, mom was surprised to see that there was no nurse escorting patients inside. The doctor sat in a consulting room, while a woman with orange flowers in her hair and tinkling bells on her feet entered and exited the room at will, which would have unnerved mom had she been lying naked on the examination table with her feet resting on stirrups.

As the kindly doctor examined her fully clothed form and asked the relevant questions, mom tried not to leap up from the examination table, where she found remnants of the last patient’s hair entwined in dry jasmine flowers. Obviously the grey cotton sheet that covered the table was changed as often as the slipcover on her sofa back home.

“You can collect the urine sample container from the receptionist now and drop off a sample tomorrow,” said the doctor, writing a prescription. “The lab’s closed for the day.”

“You’re giving me a prescription even before my results come in?” asked mom, wondering what the logic was.

“Yes,” said the doctor simply. “We’ll adjust the medication based on the results.”

Mom thought it best not to pursue the matter on a full bladder and walked toward the front desk.

“OK, madam,” the male receptionist was nodding into the telephone. “One urine sample container aa? No problem.”

Turning to an orderly at the far end of the room, he called out, “Thambi, get one urine sample container for madam!” just as mom reached the reception to pay.

“What?”

“Urine sample box ya!” he repeated, raising his voice in case anybody in the waiting room hadn’t heard. “Hurry up! Madam is waiting.”

Pretending to be very busy examining her sandals, mom thought back to a similar scene that had played out at home an hour ago.

“Amma, we’ll be right back. We have some work,” she had said, trying to usher dad quickly out the door.

“But it’s already dark,” her mother-in-law had said, an unasked question hanging in the air.

“Er … yes. We’ll be right back.”

“It can’t wait until tomorrow?”

Not wishing to appear rude, mom had to admit that she was going to the clinic nearby.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“Nothing. It’s just a UTI.”

“Oh, OK,” said grandma, along with her sister who was within earshot. “Drink lots of water and go see Dr. Very-Nice who is our family doctor.”

As they turned to leave, father-in-law wanted to know where they were going.

“Clinic aa? Why?”

Leaving grandma to explain, the humans bumped into dad’s uncle and his wife, making their way up the stairs for a visit.

“They’re in a hurry,” called out grandma. “They need to go the doctor.”

“Why? Everything OK?”

"Aaaaargh! Can this get any worse?" thought mom, running out the front gate.

When the cursed container finally made its way to the reception, mom walked over to the pharmacy. As one of the three men present filled her prescription, she noted that none of the medication came with directions other than the doctor’s illegible scrawl.

“When do I take this?” she asked, holding out a bottle.

“You have burning sensation when you urinate?” asked the pharmacist.

Mom nodded, suddenly aware of the other customers in the store.

“Take this twice a day for three days. You must be itching also," continued the man. "Take this antibiotic twice a day for three days. Any more questions?”

Mom collected her things and left the building, glad of the darkness outside as she made her way toward dad, who preferred to wait in the humidity with his hands in his pockets.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

“Madam, madam, one minute!” an urgent voice called out behind her as they started walking home.

Mom turned to see the security guard running toward her.

Handing her a packet he said, "You forgot your urine sample container.”