Facts and Fig­ure – Metro IVF Centre

Woman's Era - - Short Story -

• Low Cost IVF • Fo­cus suc­cess in 1st at­tempt. • Highly ex­pe­ri­enced and trained med­i­cal pro­fes­sion­als de­liv­er­ing ex­cel­lent suc­cess rates. • Women de­liv­ered a baby af­ter 10 years of mar­riage which is noth­ing less than a miracle, as she had a bad med­i­cal his­tory which in­cludes ab­dom­i­nal tu­ber­cu­lo­sis. • Women un­der­went IVF treat­ment and af­ter 15 years of mar­riage and end­less treat­ments she de­liv­ered healthy twins in Metro IVF centre. • Many suc­cess­ful IUI pro­ce­dures


Facts Fig­ures

woman in the last row, “what did you find from Mr X’s re­ports?”

The in­tern stut­tered in a crackly voice. “Noth­ing, sir. All val­ues were fine.”

The next was Rad­hika’s turn. “Sugar and thy­roid val­ues are nor­mal, sir.”

s more and more in­terns spoke of the nor­mal re­ports, the pos­i­tive an­swers about the pa­tient’s health be­gan to give doc­tor Badri neg­a­tive vibes. He turned to the white board in hes­i­ta­tion and scrib­bled, “Is there one per­son who found any­thing ab­nor­mal?”

One of the in­terns stood up. “Sir, sir,” his voice was no longer than a whis­per.

“Oh, for good­ness, sake, speak out loud and clear,” growled Dr Badri in a gruff husky tenor.

“The pa­tient had a high level of eosinophils and lym­pho­cytes, it spells out an al­ler­gic re­ac­tion,” the voice of the in­tern grad­u­ally grew louder as he ap­proached the end of the sen­tence. Dr Badri clapped his hands once and then drew them towards his chest.

“Ex­cel­lent find­ing. Next we need to find out what ex­actly was he al­ler­gic to. For this we would need to find out his name and get ac­cess to his pre­vi­ous re­ports. We should be able to do that when the po­lice give us a lead. Then we can put his name in the med­i­cal data­base and col­lab­o­rate with other hos­pi­tals across Delhi and treat him real quick.”

Rad­hika’s face lit up. She pulled out her phone and texted Ravi, “Our first case with Mr X almost solved. I won’t have to skip the spa to­day.”

“Bravo, bravo,” replied Ravi.

It has been two days and the po­lice say that there are no com­plaints of any missing per­son with the iden­ti­fi­ca­tions given by us,” sighed Dr Badri.

“But, sir, we have given him all sorts of stim­uli to rule out most of the ba­sic al­ler­gens,” replied an in­tern in a heavy voice.

“But that doesn’t help much. There is some­thing spe­cific, some­thing in his home or some­thing which only peo­ple in his fam­ily might be fac­ing; and Mr X has most likely faced the symp­tom be­fore and taken treat­ment for it as the body can­not be­come like the all of a sud­den. The al­lergy has, how­ever, ag­gra­vated over the years from what I see. Only if he wakes up and tells us…”

A hospi­tal staff knocked on the door, “Sir, the HOD wants to meet you re­gard­ing ro­ta­tion of the stu­dents.”

“I’ll be back in a jiffy,” said Dr Badri as he left the room. Rad­hika stared at her phone hope­lessly. Her fin­gers did the rest.

“Ravi, you know I feel an un­known con­nec­tion with Mr X who I spoke about last night. He prob­a­bly bears some un­canny re­sem­blance to some­one I know. I wish he re­cov­ers.”

She could see the words “Ravi typ­ing” on her What­sapp chat mes­sage header.

Dr Badri walked in with a bland ex­pres­sion. “Since the clin­ics needed some in­terns on the ba­sis of our ro­ta­tion pol­icy, I have de­cided that the fol­low­ing stu­dents will be vis­it­ing Sa­gar Clinic from to­mor­row for one week. Rad­hika ... Anamika ... Alex…”

“Looks like you’ll be work­ing on X,” Rad­hika typed in. “I’ll be swap­ping with you at Sa­gar Clinic from to­mor­row.”

“Aye, aye,” popped up on her screen.

ad­hika kept glar­ing her last mes­sage to Ravi. “How is Mr X do­ing? Did you find any­thing con­clu­sive?”

There had been no re­sponse from him. Though the news of Mr X’s demise had reached her through the grapevine. Was he an­gry with her? Was he play­ing hard to get? Did he find a new girl­friend dur­ing his time away from her at the hospi­tal?

The ques­tions that clouded her mind had be­gun to in­vade her san­ity.

She willed her­self to not check her phone to see if he had replied. It had been about three days now. She hated that she was con­stantly check­ing his 'last seen at' sta­tus and yes, he had logged in just five min­utes ago. Yet she couldn't stop her­self. This sink­ing feel­ing to find ab­so­lutely no com­mu­ni­ca­tion from him was be­com­ing un­bear­able, almost tor­tur­ous.

And then, just as she sat down in her chair, her phone vi­brated. With her heart thud­ding in her ear, she un­locked her phone and stared at the screen. Fi­nally! It was his mes­sage.

But when she opened it and read it, she nearly stopped breath­ing. She didn't know if he was jok­ing or not. What was this?

“Mr X’s name was Mr Subra­maniyam, and he died be­cause of you.”

ad­hika gulped down her saliva as she scrolled down.

“I re­alised that he stayed in your apart­ment only when I found a pic­ture of him in your cor­ri­dor in his mo­bile. I re­mem­bered the cor­ri­dor you showed me when you were fu­ri­ous about the garbage prob­lem. It was too late. I couldn’t help him. His stroke was be­cause of an al­ler­gen named crompo­tonins for which he had been treated be­fore; and I got ac­cess to his med­i­cal his­tory as soon as I found his name. Do you know the ic­ing on the cake? He stayed in G- 102, the apart­ment ad­ja­cent to yours. The poor man was a wid­ower and his son stays abroad.

“Shame on the fact that peo­ple never know their neigh­bours in the city! I loathe the re­la­tion­ship that peo­ple like you have with their neigh­bours!” We

She willed her­self to not check her phone to see if he had replied. It had been about three days now. She hated that she was con­stantly check­ing his ' last seen at' sta­tus and yes, he had logged in just five min­utes ago. Yet she couldn't stop her­self.

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