Living like that little woman who wrapped thick cloth around her body to conceal her pregnancy or like that man searching for blood on the sheets of a young newlywed couple and not in their hearts and with politics playing on the hopelessness of our young who have nothing left to give save their bodies and in our hypocrisy-laden system that deprives us of our minds that might have instilled the notion of “forward-thinking democracy” to our neighbors, we delight in a deadly drunkenness as we watch it all grow instead of cutting out the roots of the problems.

21 The Country Doctor

21

The Country Doctor

Me

I had finished my year in the town where I had been sent to serve out my temporary civil service duties and now it still wasn’t clear how much longer I would be staying. I rented the empty tractor garage just next to the Central Restaurant and turned it into an examination room. A makeshift stretcher, a medicine cabinet and a Formica table—it was all I had. The Mayor who swings by for a glass of tea thinks the matter of my new “post” is no longer on my mind. He is rather pleased. He was going to send over his son, Serkan, a police chief, and says to me, “he can hang around with you and learn a thing or two.”

It is lunchtime at the weekend. Anxiously I look down at the döner over rice the director of housing deeds has insisted on treating me. I figure he is planning to ask me to write a report for his sister-in-law. I had only taken my first fews bites when I noticed someone planted on the threshold of the open door. He was a big, sturdy man. Squinting at me as if he was trying to place me. Without moving at all he says with innocent audacity:

“Doctor Ercan, is that you?”

“Yes,” I said, looking up from my food. He came inside, took a few steps over to the table and stopped.

“I’ve got tuberculosis, doctor …”

For some time we looked each other in the eye. I had learned that in situations like these I should let myself be myself instead of trying to normalize the conversation. Feigning sheer indifference, I said:

“How do you know?” And I leaned back a little in my chair. He took another step toward the table.

“Because I am spitting up blood, man. Blood comes right out of my mouth. I’ve got tuberculosis.” He stopped for a moment then went on:

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Hold on a minute … We can figure this out right now.”

Signaling for Serkan to shut the door, I got up out of my seat.