Wednesday, 6th March
The hospital corridor smelt sharply of bleach and that stale weariness that clings to old linoleum floors. I sat on a hard plastic chair, gripping my well-worn handbag against my chest, as though inside I cradled both hope and anxiety. It was barely half-seven in the morning, but Id been here since just after six. The empty grey streets of Norwich had still been thick with mist when I left homeover 120 miles away. Complaining didnt cross my mind. I just sat, waiting, eyes fixed on the doctors door.
There were a few others about: a man with a bandaged hand, a young woman whose red eyes betrayed a sleepless night, a mother gently patting her dozing childs back. We were all silent, wearing the same tired expressionPlease, let everything be alright…
Then he appeared down the corridor. An elderly gentleman, probably mid-seventies, dressed like a character from a page of Tatlerimmaculately pressed coat, polished walking stick, a tweed hat sitting precisely on his head. He strode confidently, the kind of man who expects people will simply step aside.
He didnt ask who was next. Didnt glance at any of us. He headed straight for the consulting room door, as if the rest of us were merely scenery. Reaching out, he seized the handle.
I stood up quietly. I wasnt angry, nor did I make a scene. Just the dignity of someone who hasnt much but knows whats right.
Excuse me, sir, I said gently. Its my turn. Ive been here since just after sixcame all the way from Ipswich.
He finally looked at me as though only now realising there were other people in the world. A fleeting, cold smile.
Madam, Im someone who matters. I dont have time to queue the way you do for these things!
And sharper still: Once you reach my age and have made something of yourself, youll see lifes too short for lining up.
His words didnt sting because Id lost my place in the queue. It was the humiliationbeing spoken down to as though I was invisible.
The hush in the corridor deepened. Then the consulting room door burst open. Out stepped the doctora man in his fifties, coat slightly crumpled, eyes lined with exhaustion.
Whats all this? he asked.
The old man asserted himself immediately. Doctor, Ive come for my appointment. Please see me nowI cannot wait.
The doctor paused, then turned to me. Are you the lady whos been here since first thing?
I nodded, swallowing. Yes. Ive come from Ipswichover two hours away.
He sighed, deeply, not unkindly. Then he faced the old man, and the warmth drained from his voice, replaced by something steely.
Sir… I know you.
For a moment, the old man stiffened, almost puffed up with pride. The doctor continued, measured and clear:
You taught me when I was at school, sir.
There was silence. The old man offered a quick, self-satisfied smile, almost expecting applause.
The doctor didnt smile back. You always told us, year after year: A persons worth is never in their title or their clothes, or how loud they shoutbut in how they treat those who cant defend themselves.
The old man blinked hard. He suddenly seemed a little less steady.
The doctor stepped forward, not unkindly but honest: Today, sir, you werent someone. Today you forgot what it means to be a decent human being.
The flush crept up the old mans cheeks. His jaw clenched. All around, silencebut every pair of eyes said enough.
The doctor turned to open the consulting room door. Maam, its your turn. Please come in.
I stepped through on trembling legs, eyes wet, but holding my head high.
The old man eased down onto a chair by the wall, wordless. He waited. For the first time in a long time, I think he understoodbeing someone isnt about walking over others, but about how you treat them along the way.
When at last it was his turn, he came in. Before saying a word about his ailments, he murmured quietly, Doctor… Im sorry about before.
The doctor smiled, warm and genuine.
Its never too late to do the right thing, sir. Its not how loudly you shout, but how kindly you act that shows your true worth. You can be someone in the worlds eyes and yet small before common decency. And the plainest person, humble and quiet, can have greatness just through their dignity.
If I were ever in the womans shoesor in the doctorswhich would I be? And you?
Perhaps if someone needs this reminder today, theyll read these words and remember how to be truly human at heart.
