Sunday, 14 September 2014

The Radiographer and His Daughter

“So, is that your husband sitting in the waiting room?”
“Yep, we’ve been married four and a half years now.”
“Long time. Where is he from?”
“India, originally.”
“So are you Indian too?”
“No, I’m Pakistani.” 
“My daughter wants to get married to a Turkish guy. We are Egyptian. I don’t know what to do. What’s it like being married to someone from a different country? How do you manage? I don’t know what to do. She’s my eldest. Everyone marries Egyptians in our family. I don’t know what do!”

The Radiographer poked the needle in me again, exasperated. I flinched and clenched my teeth as he tried again to find a vein. Not an easy task in my case; apparently I have very difficult veins to find – either that, or the staff at UCLH are just not very good at finding them. ‘Calm down, man!’ I thought to myself, ‘I know you’d rather be poking sharp things in your daughter right now, but spare me, please!’ I quietly cried inside.

Once again, I found myself in a position I did not want to be in. Maybe I have one of those faces, but for some reason, most doctors and nurses I come across seem to think I am the person to spill their life stories to. Now, don’t peg me for a sucker, I know pity-talk when I hear it – and no, they don’t talk to me out of pity. Doctors and nurses come across thousands of patients, and to them, I’m just another name on a list. So I put it down to my baby face – in particular, the baby cheeks which refused to go away even after I reached and left puberty.

And so he tried again, whilst I explained to him just how similar Faisal’s and mine’s family backgrounds were. Clearly he wasn’t too happy with the explanation I gave, and poked another needle in me – this time, without the ‘sharp scratch’ warning. This one finally drew blood, and the rest of the CT prep was done in silence. When he’d finally finished, I gathered my things and scurried off back to my seat.

‘Darn you and your chubby cheeks, Naaila,’ I thought, not for the first time.

Lessons of the day:
- When someone is in a position to poke sharp things in you, tell them what they want to hear. Just trust me on this one.