Tuesday The Twelfth

Tuesday.

The balcony and waiting area upstairs at the Federal Staff Hospital is crowded with patients. The woman gets called into the consulting room minutes before me. A little girl, not more than three years old tugs on the lapel of her maxi dress. The woman is pregnant; she manages to walk straight with the longest tummy I have seen around. You could see her pregnancy is term, or almost. Her face and lips are swollen too, common with term mothers-to-be. The nurse calls my name. I follow her into the same consulting room as the woman. Three doctors are consulting on different tables. The doctor seated opposite the OBGYN attending to the woman motions for me to seat opposite her. I do. My doctor is looking down on my file, reading my records. 
The woman from earlier is crying now, her daughter follows.
‘Our counselling days are Wednesdays. You will have to come with your husband so he gets tested too. Some of the retro viral drugs are free. You will need more tests too…’ I hear her consulting doctor say. The woman’s crying gets louder. 
‘You are upsetting your child’ the nurse scolds her. 
What is your complaint? My doctor asks me, jolting me back from my reverie. I don’t have any anymore. Suddenly, the headache I had and the cramps that kept waking me intermittently throughout the night doesn't quite compare to what is making the woman cry. I want to get up from my chair and hold her and cry with her. 
Is there no other private consulting room that woman can be seen? I ask my doctor. 
Is that your medical complaint? The doctor responds. I am fine, I tell her. Then call in …….. She tells me, gesturing for me to leave. I try to get up, but my calf buckles, I sit back on the chair…The woman is still crying. Her unborn child may be born HIV positive. Her husband does not know, possibly, that he may be positive as well. I wonder how she would tell him how their lives just changed in a day. Tomorrow is Wednesday. Their counselling day…