Frau Heinrich

‘Wake up, Arthur’, Mrs. Heinrich cooed at her husband as a little dribble fell from his mouth which could be mistaken for any of the other wrinkles on his pale, sad face. Startled, he coughed and gagged, sitting up in his wheelchair as straight up as his scoliosis would allow him.

“Und wie geht’s dir?”

I ask him gently, with as much kindness as I can muster.

He stares blankly, incomprehensively, studying my face desperately for clues to understand what was being asked of him.

“Come on darling, the nice doctor is asking how you are feeling today. Let’s give her an answer shall we? Are you well? Yes?”

With herculean effort, his face clouded with sweat, from the depths of his belly he uses all his energy to say “J…Jaaaaaaa”.

“Sehr gut darling!” his wife congratulates him at his monumental effort and then allows him to drift back into his stupor. We then go back to discussing the extent of his encephalitis – which I believe to be the misdiagnosis of some ancient doctor who would not have bothered to go over his symptoms before deciding his fate. As my mind wanders, trying to come up with a new differential diagnosis, I see Mrs Heinrich offering me an extremely detailed explanation of how many times her husband wakes up during the night. They’ve suspected Parkinson’s, cancer and whatnot. But it looks like nothing more than dementia to me. How am I going to say this nicely to this – “…do you think that is not alright doctor?” Mrs Heinrich stares at me with concern. Her pretty eyes are tired from all the sadness and effort she has had to endure, but they tell me she’s not giving up. I’m impressed with her, and yet I feel terrible for her unfortunate situation. Being stuck like this for the rest of your life – trying to be positive for two people – and at this age!

“No Frau Heinlich. There is no new reason to worry. It is too soon for me to offer a diagnosis, but let us discuss his speech.”

“Oh that’s no problem. I suppose he’s being a lazy brat now,” she adds, batting at his shoulder, “But he has no problem saying ich liebe dich five times a day”, her pleasant smile is interrupted by a gurgle that turns into a cry of anguish, as her husband bursts into tears. “Go back to sleep darling, let me do the talking for now ok?” she says, kindly”. She turns back to my surprised face and continues to describe his food intake in excruciating detail.

***

I’m on my way out, two patients later. And I briefly see her struggling at the reception. She has to handle her husband’s mood, his wheelchair, all her things – it’s too much for a human being, I think to myself as I send a nurse to help her. Poor lady. She’s so strong.

But internally I wished I’d never have to suffer her fate. Medicine can only make you so strong. Finally, we are all human.

***

Robert is not really interested in my heart-wrenching story about this couple.

“Why must you always bring your cases home? I know it’s depressing, but you knew what you were getting into when you took medicine didn’t you? – Look I know it’s sad, but all I’m saying is there’s nothing more you can do! You’re already helping them more than anyone else can at this point. Just forget about it ok? Anyway, what’s for dinner? It’s your turn to cook.”

***

The next week is not spectacularly different. Which is surprising because I get to perform surgery on an aneurism patient – something I know my peers are extremely jealous of me for. Ordinarily I would have been over the moon about it. I might have even rubbed it in their faces – take that you jerks. I know you talk about me when I’m not around. I know the stories you’ve spread about me sleeping with the surgery resident. Well who’s fucked now? Ha!

But a deep sense of sorrow has overtaken my pettiness. I can’t get Frau Heinrich out of my mind. I keep picturing those eyes, filled with hope and joy – and love for her husband. How does she fake it? I wonder. What an immense sense of responsibility this woman must have. Would Robert do this for me? I laugh out loud in the elevator at this thought triggering some giggles amongst some young medical students. He’d leave me in a second. But me? Would I do this for him?

“Dr. Sharma you’re here is your schedule for today – I had to add some patients because Dr. Lachmann is on leave again” – a piece of paper is shoved in my face, interrupting my risky train of thought as I exit the elevator.

“Um.. thanks Laura. You can start sending them at once.”

“Dr. Sharma actually I was wonderi – “

“Not now Laura I’ll discuss your issue with you later”, I feel guilty for snapping. But I know she just wants to ask me for yet another set of prescriptions for some in law or distant relative who has some godforsaken malady. I simply don’t have the time to deal with her nonsense. She scurries away, head down.

A whole day of seeing restless leg syndrome goes by and I am beginning to question why I chose medicine when suddenly my door opens tentatively and a shy Mrs. Heinrich asks me politely whether she can come in.

“Of course!” I rush to hold the door open as she struggles to wheel her shell of a husband into the room. I am appalled as she speaks to him lovingly, cooing like a teenager “We are entering the doctor’s office my love. See how pretty she is. Yes, now someone’s not so sleepy anymore are they?” She laughs jovially as she tells me how he would only speak to the female physiotherapist during his first onset of symptoms. We chat as though we are in a café, discussing her husband as though he is completely fine and the empty feeling begins to fill me once again. I feel so devastated for this woman. So compassionate. Her life is so sad and she’s doing everything she can to hold herself together.

The feeling follows me as I switch off the lights and leave an hour later. But there she is, struggling by the reception again, with her papers, her husband and her life.

 This time the sorrow has nearly reached my throat and so I briskly walk over to her to ask why on earth they are still here.

“Oh I think today was a busy day so they might’ve forgotten to call our number for the forms – or maybe my ears are not as adept as they once were huh Arthur?” she laughs “Your wife is old and deaf Arthur, you won’t leave her for a young blonde now will you?” She tickles his ear as she gathers up her purse and begins to put his feet on the pedals of the chair.

“Oh no! Please allow me. Wait right here I’ll just be a second”

I sprint to the reception and give Laura a good understanding of what a worthless excuse for a human being she is. Running back to the elderly couple, I apologise profusely for the wait – they live three hours away from Berlin. I wonder whether I should order them a taxi. It would cost over 50 euros but I can more than afford it since I got this position. I’m so lost in thought that I realise that I miss seeing Mrs Heinrich hobble over to the reception and hand Laura a 5euro bill and a little handkerchief to wipe her tears. I look down at my phone pretending not to notice.

“Mrs. Heinrich I really do apologise for the wait, please allow me to order you a taxi…” I start but am cut off

“Oh you are a sweetheart dear but we have taken a little place in Berlin for times like these. This is not the worse thing to happen to us” she laughs, “and Arthur here has no regrets I’m sure”, she bends down and caresses his heaving cheek as we approach the elevator, “Arthur, look the pretty Sri Lankan came back for you! – ah you are from Sri Lanka if I am not wrong?”

“India, but close enough”

“Ah pardon me. You look very similar to our Sri Lankan friend. Incidentally we are meeting her for drinks in an hour. Haha, yes –“ she laughs at my not-so-subtle surprise, “Arthur and I have always loved going out. We have visited all the hip and happening places in Berlin. Oh there’s this one Italian place that is our favourite. In fact, we try a new restaurant every week…” she goes on onto a long monologue during out 27 floor elevator ride about how they live to the fullest. But I am sceptical. It’s not possible. She’s pretending. Is there any way that they are actually … could it really be that she isn’t pretending? Impossible!

“… I would ask you to join us tonight, we are quite a fun pair. But I know you doctors have busy lives so I will not impose”, she smiles.

I want to say yes. I want to join them. I want to make them happy. Contribute and make her sad life better for a few hours- “Maybe not today. But thank you. I have to fill in the monthly paperwork but maybe next time”, I lie.

“Of course, I understand dear”, the elevator doors open, “Goodbye dear, have a nice night and get some rest. You look like you need it!”

There’s a storm inside me. Something just does not add up. How can she be so happy? I mean, there’s no way she could be faking this. But then why am I overcome with that empty feeling once again? Why did I lie? If I truly felt bad for her, I should have gone with them… and that’s when it hit me.

I wasn’t sorrowful for her. I was sorrowful for me.