'I'll bet he's Chinese.' <br />you said smugly, <br />as we sat <br />like a pair of timid bookends <br />on the stiff chairs <br />of Outpatients. <br /> <br />Wrong. <br /> <br />He was tall - <br />and older than we expected <br />(he looked older than you, my love) <br />with a painful sort of uprightness - <br />arthritis perhaps? <br /> <br />He offered his hand. <br />He had musician's fingers. <br />'Rosenfeldt's my name. <br />I'm not your real surgeon <br />A 'stand-in' I suppose you'd call me.' <br /> <br />He looked faintly ill at ease <br />as if trekking in unfamiliar territory, <br />yet he gave us both <br />a cautious sort of confidence <br />borne, I suspect, <br />of years <br />of cardio-thoracic experience. <br /> <br />His voice was hesitant, <br />but his hands were sure <br />as he checked your pulses <br />and listened <br />intently <br />to your chest. <br /> <br />The ancient sphygmomanometer <br />had a tired face. <br /> <br />It seemed a long time <br />before he said: <br />'Blood pressure's up a bit. <br />Probably white coat syndrome, eh? ' <br /> <br />Then he unscrewed the cap <br />of a fountain pen. <br />and carefully <br />and thoughtfully <br />recorded his diagnosis. <br /> <br />'You're going to need an operation, I'm afraid. <br />Any questions? ' <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />To be continued....<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/jerry-s-journey-professor-rosenfeldt/
