Doctors are lifesavers!

The slight chink in the door allowed him to peep in. What he saw froze him in his tracks…. He could neither speak nor swallow. In all his 30 years of practice he  had only heard of such stuff or read… or seen in movies. Willing himself into action, he slid behind the thick drapes as the miscreant charged towards the door, smugly wiping the blade of the knife in his hand.

Tiptoeing out of the room, he didn’t even bother to shut the door or turn to look if someone was there. Overconfident murderer!

Doc slowly came out from behind the curtains and rushed to the bedside of the old lady, Mrs. Wilson. As soon as he grabbed her wrist, she opened her eyes. He shrieked, “Aaaahhh!” and leapt up in the air. She could barely speak; her speech was muddled but indicated she wanted water. After having a few sips from the glass on her nightstand, she sat up with the help of the doctor.

“How come you are here doc?”

“ I was passing by and thought I would check on you.”

“ Not too good. I had that horrible dream again…. My nephew tried to kill me. But this time he held a knife!”

“Oh! Did you take your medicine?”

“ Yes, I did. In fact, my nurse Denise is very particular. She is more punctual than the cuckoo in my clock.”

“Let me check your pulse and BP.”

After fussing over her for a while he engaged her in conversation about this, that, and what not, hoping to have a word with Denise. She soon emerged with a tea tray and the medicines prescribed.

“Hello doc! Imagine seeing you here today, now!” Not a falter in her step, not any sign of surprise.

“Hello Denise! How is Mrs. Wilson doing?” “All well! In fact, I am sure she will be up and about soon, running around the garden and all her favourite charities,” she said beaming like a mother hen.

“OK then I will run on. Do let me know if she needs me.”

Driving away from the imposing circular driveway doc found his hands were shaking. There was something fishy, he knew it, he felt it deep in his guts, but what? he couldn’t put his finger on it. Sipping cognac after dinner, he was chatting with his charming wife- an elegant lady, who was much admired by all- when a thought emerged from the depths of his subconscious, leaping onto the conscious plane while it took him by storm.

Doctor Morpheus was busy the whole week looking after patients, the hospital, and his staff. In fact, he had quite forgotten the nasty experience till he received an urgent summons from Denise.

He drove as fast as he could dare, muttering under his breath, “I knew it, I knew it….” Barely did the car stall to a halt when he leapt out, definitely watching James Bond was a help. He rushed straight to Mrs. Wilson’s room expecting her to be lying on the huge four poster bed …. with a knife sticking out of her.

But there she was, seated in her fancy wing chair, glasses on the bridge of her nose, sipping her afternoon tea as she perused a book in her hands. Stunned and a little happy to see her alive he stammered, “Hel… hell… hello Mrs. Wilson! You look fine! Denise said it was urgent!”

“Did she? Never mind! Hello doc!”

“ How are you Ma’am? No more dreams, I hope. And where’s your nephew?”

“I feel tickety boo!” smiled the sexagenarian benevolently. “ My nephew came down to visit me yesterday and will be staying with me a while. Let me introduce him to you. Peter…”

On cue entered a tall well-built man, quite handsome in a rustic way, with a twinkle in his eye. “Peter meet Doctor Morpheus; he has been responsible for my well being and the fact that I am ticking still.”

Morpheus seemed frozen before he made the right noises and actions. He kept seeing the man wiping the knife, walking towards the door. Peter shook hands firmly and informed the doc he would stay on for a few days to take care of his aunt, as she was all the kin he had left. Denise walked in with tea, and faltered just that tad bit, she could recover from in a jiffy.

“Hello Pete…I mean Doc! You must be glad to see Madam is much better now that her nephew is here.” “But why did you call me urgently?”                                                                                                                            “Madam asked me to… remember Ma’am?”                                                                                                                “Did I? I must have!”

On the pretext of checking the patient, he shooed everyone out of the room. “Your life is in danger. Can you tell me if you have made a will? Who have you named your beneficiary?”

“Of course, Doc! I have named you as my beneficiary!”

“What???” shouted Morpheus as he nearly fell down.

“Does Peter know it?”

“Of course! He happened to pop in as I was instructing my Lawyer.”

“Why is he not the beneficiary?”

“I owe my life to you…. I am leaving something for him too, he always accused me of being stingy! He will see how magnanimous I can be.”

Wiping the sweat off his face, the doctor picked up a cup of tea. Playing with the interesting pill box he  picked it up and flipped its lid. There was something different about the pills. Why had they been removed from their cover?

 “Be careful Mrs Wilson,” he said as he slipped the pillbox in his pocket unobtrusively.

“I have lived a long and fruitful life doc. I am ready to leave the world, but I don’t want any more of those horrible dreams. The new medicines you have prescribed help me sleep well and are making me strong too.”

Next morning the Police Inspector came to the imposing house and arrested Peter while he still lay in bed with Denise tucked beside him.

“Your game is up Handsome!” said Officer Proven as he slipped the handcuffs over Peter’s wrists.

Mrs. Wilson received the news with shock and  hastily summoned Doc.

Peter was in cahoots with Denise, promising her a large sum of money. She was taken in by his looks, charm, and glib talk. He had then started doctoring Mrs. Wilson’s medicine. Once she passed away, the doctor who inherited her large fortune would be found guilty because of the doctored medicines and the motive for murder. Being the only kin, the estate would then rightfully come to him.

But the doctor who had taken the Hippocratic oath and was genuinely fond of his patients would not allow such nefarious plans to fructify. Poor Peter didn’t know that.

Without splitting hairs, he solved the mystery for Mrs. Wilson.

“Is it any wonder that Doctors are revered and loved?” she asked.