Madam, I am somebody! I havent got time to wait around like you do!
What happened next left him humbled before everyone.
The hospital corridor was heavy with the smell of disinfectant and fatigue. On a hard plastic chair sat a woman, plainly dressed, clutching her handbag tightly, as though she were holding on to both hope and fear inside it. It was still early.
Shed been here since 7 oclock in the morning, her tired eyes fixed on the consultation room door. She had travelled a long way nearly 120 miles from her village. She made no fuss, asked for nothing, and simply waited.
A few others were scattered about her: a man with a gauze-wrapped hand, a young woman with red-rimmed eyes from lack of sleep, a mother with a sleeping child draped on her shoulder. None spoke. They all wore the same expression that quietly pleaded, Please let things turn out alright…
And then he appeared, coming down the corridor.
He was an elderly gentleman, perhaps 75, dressed immaculately. A tailored overcoat, a glimmering cane, a stylish hat his attire spoke of wealth and habit. He walked with the assured air of someone used to people making way for him. He didnt ask. He didnt look at anyone.
Without hesitation, he strode up to the door as if the corridor was a mere inconvenience between him and what he wanted. He reached for the door handle, his every movement as deliberate as clockwork.
That was when the woman gently stood up. Not angry, nor confrontational just with the dignity of someone who owned little but cherished self-respect.
Sir, please… Its my turn. Ive been waiting since seven this morning. Ive come all the way from the countryside.
The old man turned to her, as if just then noticing other people existed in the corridor.
He gave a quick, cold smile.
Madam, I am somebody! I dont have time to wait about like you do!
And, in an even sharper tone, he added,
When youre my age and youve accomplished something with your life, you learn that times too precious to spend queuing.
The woman did not move. His words fell over her like a lead weight. It wasnt losing her spot in the queue that stung it was the humiliation, plain and simple.
An uneasy silence hung over the corridor.
But it didnt last for long.
The consulting room door flew open.
The doctor, a man in his fifties, with a slightly crumpled white coat and tired eyes, emerged and eyed the little crowd.
Whats going on here?
The elderly man confidently stepped forward.
Doctor, Im here for my appointment. Kindly see me straight away I cant be waiting.
The doctor studied him in silence for a moment, then looked at the woman.
Are you the lady whos been here since seven?
She nodded, quietly.
Yes Ive come nearly 120 miles
The doctor sighed, then turned back to the old man, his calm tone sharper than any raised voice.
Sir I recognise you.
The old man straightened, a flicker of pride crossing his face.
The doctor continued: You were my teacher in secondary school.
A hush swept the corridor.
The old man smiled, as if hed just received confirmation that he was indeed important.
But the doctor didnt return his smile.
I remember very clearly a lesson you repeated to us year after year.
He spoke deliberately:
A persons worth isnt shown by their clothes, their title, or how forcefully they speak but by how much respect they show to those who cant defend themselves.
The old man blinked rapidly.
His grip tightened on his cane.
The doctor took a step closer and said, neither unkindly nor angrily, but with honest firmness:
Today you werent somebody. Today you were just a man who forgot to be humane.
The old man flushed. His jaw clenched.
Around them, no one said a word, but every watching gaze carried its own judgement.
The doctor opened the consultation room door and said aloud, for all to hear:
The lady will go in now. Its her turn.
The woman entered, tears brimming, but head held high.
The old man quietly moved aside to the wall. He sat down. He waited.
For the first time in a very long while he understood that being somebody doesnt mean climbing over others, but rather not trampling them beneath your feet.
When his turn finally came, he stepped inside.
Before saying what brought him to the hospital, he managed only:
Doctor Im sorry for earlier.
The doctor smiled, warmly.
Its never too late to be a decent person, sir. True worth isnt measured by how loudly we insist on it, but by how kindly we treat others. You can be somebody in the worlds eyes, yet small when it comes to decency. The reverse is also true: you can be quiet, modest, and simple and yet immense in dignity.
What would you have done if you were the woman? Or the doctor?
If this story has touched you, share it.
Perhaps the very person who most needs to remember what it means to be decent will read it today.
