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The Doctor's Visit

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Barry Revill

“Good morning Eliza, my name is Dr Gillespie; I am here to talk to you.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Dr Gillespie.”

“Your first name?”

“Still Dr Gillespie to you Eliza.”

“Like that is it?”

“Yes, that is the way it is, I’m afraid. Now Eliza, I want you to tell me how you feel, what it is you are worried about. What is on your mind?”

“How many weeks have you got?”

“Yes, nurse did tell me you could have a bit of a sense of humour.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Eliza, I see from your chart that you are not eating well. Do you not like the food?”

“Is that what you call it? I had a dog once. Most of the time he would not have eaten what they dish up in here.”

“So you wish to make a formal complaint?”

“Forget it.”

“Do other patients worry you; do they disturb you, stopping you from sleeping?”

“So many questions, questions, questions, questions, don’t you ever shut up?”

“Now Eliza, you must behave, you must calm down. We are only trying to help you. To get you better, so you can, well, one day, go back into the wider community. To re-join your family, and, dare I say it, make a contribution to society.”

“Do you always talk such bullshit?”

“Now Eliza, that will not do at all.”

“I wonder whether you are really a doctor at all. Have you ever listened to your own words, listened to what you are actually saying to me? I’m here, you know, I’m a real person, I have feelings, you know. My bloody family put me in here, my bloody daughter, she done it, she done it. That’s what she did, put me in here.”

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