Category: anesthesiologist

Carabinieri – Fancy Dress

~ 7seasonsago ~ 5 Comments

article CA light was on in the living room which was why Dr. Zain Uddin Khan found himself peering in through the pocket doors that separated it from the dining room on his way to a fancy dress party. He and two friends were going as a sort of Italian three musketeers in fancy dress Carabinieri uniforms.  He had worn this costume once before  and had been delighted to find out that it offended people as at first glance it was mistaken for a Nazi uniform.  Not that he was sympathetic to the detestable Nazi dogma but he occasionally enjoyed putting people on edge.  It was satisfying to sporadically turn the tables.

As a Muslim doctor who worked tirelessly for the community, there was a constant expectation that he take the higher ground in the face of relentless insensitivity and sometimes downright discrimination. The costume represented a sort of social rebellion.  It called people out on their ignorance and highlighted the ultimate outcome of ignorance.

As he peered into the unusually illuminated room, he saw the culprit curled up on the couch. It was his son home from his adventures as a street urchin.  The fog had swept in to chill the evening and so Zain tucked his son Kyle in with the luxurious sitting room throw – placed neatly in the room for just such an occasion.  He stopped to admire his son in that warm paternal way known only to fathers which starts with a tingle in the head and scalp and moves slowly down the spine.

He wished he would stop this street performing nonsense and go back to school, but he understood why he did not. In his last year of high school a hysterical girl had overheard a chance statement by a momentarily frustrated Kyle said with the drama and exaggeration of youth.  “I’m going to blow this place up”.

Apparently this had been enough to activate the powers of Home Land Security and as Kyle had recently turned 18 they had apprehended him and incarcerated him and then proceeded to raid Dr. Khan’s house. Thank God years of being detained at customs for hours on end when returning to his country from foreign lands was a routine experience he had accustomed himself to.  It had trained him to remain calm through the whole humiliating crisis.   While the best lawyers that money could provide had sorted the authorities out within the week, the damage had been done.

In interviews from now on, how was he to honestly answer the question “have you ever been arrested”? Was he to tell the truth and say “Yes, I was mistakenly taken for a terrorist once but the charges were dropped and my record expunged”.  While this statement was certainly a conversation starter, it wasn’t the sort of thing that put you at the top of any desirable list.  Was his son to learn to lie?  What was his moral obligation?

Zain still hoped that his son would find himself. His mother might have found a way to fix it, he thought assuredly.  While her death had allowed him to live a life and explore a part of himself he probably wouldn’t have, he missed her acutely right now.

Street Performer – Keep on rockin’ in the free world

~ 7seasonsago ~ Leave a comment

IMG_0097When you don’t want to work for wages and you don’t own your own business, options for making money are few and far between – Kyle thought. It was difficult to be free. With no car, he couldn’t be an Uber/Lyft driver and with no spare room to rent he couldn’t participate in Air B&B. Thank God he had this old banjo and a good singing voice.

Kyle counted up the money in his Deering case and added it to the rest in the hidden recesses of his jacket. Pocket money, it helped pay for dance lessons, haircuts, the gym… – all the extras in life. His anesthesiologist father reluctantly kept him in food and shelter. What daddy didn’t provide (in an effort to encourage him to go to college) was extra cash he thought as he patted his hidden take.

When you worked in tourist areas you learned never to leave too much money in whatever collection container you might have in front of you. He had also learned never to keep it in his wallet – the real one in danger of pick pockets nor the fake one with an old ID, an expired credit card, and twenty dollars to be surrendered to muggers.

He boarded the bus and sat with his feet firmly planted on the ground. He was embarrassed by the holes in his sneakers inspired by impromptu pirouettes on cement. These creative outbursts had worn sweet little circles in the soles of his shoes.

Irritatingly enough he had just purchased a new pair of boots rather recently. Well, not exactly purchased. But they were new, he thought coincidently spying an identical pair on the feet of a man directly in front of him. (You never looked anyone in the eye on the bus if you could help it. Kyle always kept his eyes firmly on peoples feet).

They had been a replacement for a pair of Timberland hiking boots he had purchased and then split the soles off the upper. He had frequently abused the boots balancing on his toes at bus shelters while waiting on public transit. They had been expensive (for him) and trendy and the experience had made him just mad enough to walk himself down to Nordstrom’s and demand a new pair. They should have lasted a lot longer than they did. Maybe they hadn’t been designed for point-work but Nordstrom’s didn’t need to know that. He would certainly refrain from practicing such dance moves in good shoes in the future.

The clerk had looked at him in disbelief when he had presented them to him. It was a look of “oh my God, what have you been doing to these poor shoes”. However, he had agreed that they should have lasted longer and then exchanged them for a new pair after approval from a manager.

Then unexpectedly, his trendy replaced Timberland boots had gone missing. Sure, they had almost immediately thrown a shoelace grommet, but to Kyle this had seemed like the price you would be expected to pay for the shenanigans he had gone through to get them. It was karma. It had never even occurred to him to demand another replacement. They had thrown a grommet, just like the ones in front of him. They must all have the same defect he pondered missing his shoes. It probably wouldn’t even matter if he had exchanged them. They would probably all throw the same eyelet. He wondered what the odds were that his shoes would have the same defect as the one in front of him.

They almost looked identical to the pair that had gone missing – certainly they were the same size. Kyle looked up suddenly to see if the shoes were on anyone he recognized. He met the eyes of a stranger in midst of a blush and a guilty look. Kyle couldn’t place this man’s face anywhere.

The man abruptly got up and pulled the cord that announced he would get off at the next stop. Kyle kept staring at him and the man kept avoiding his gaze. Kyle had no idea what to do. The city had conditioned him to prepare for pick-pockets and muggers, but he was in no way prepared to come face to face with someone wearing his missing shoes.

After the man got off, Kyle wondered – even if the man had stolen his shoes somehow – what he could have done to get them back. And if he had stolen them, how on earth had he managed to do it, and where, and when? Was this guy some trick of his fathers and he had taken them as a trophy? Had he accidentally left them at the gym or dance school and this guy had taken them? He often changed his shoes to clogs or sandals after a workout as he hated shoving his swollen feet into tight boots.

Another twist of karma Kyle decided giving in to the fact that no amount of speculation would bring those boots back. He leaned back is his seat placing his earbuds back in. He would take comfort in having a rich father. Today’s work had afforded him another month of classes and perhaps another pair of shoes. Boots or no boots, was still free from getting a real job or going to school. Maybe this time he would purchase shoes that were cheaper… and something he could slip on.

Keep on walking in a free world, he hummed silently to himself changing the lyrics. Kyle was; after all, the star of the musical fantasies he lived in, the chanteuse of his cabaret, and the diva of his one man show.

Doctors – The Doctor will see you now

~ 7seasonsago ~ Leave a comment

IMG_9653Ryan walked into the office of the anesthesiologist, Dr. Kahn, still high from securing a date with Taura. He was a great believer in kismet. Seeing her twice in 24 hours had convinced him to seize the moment. He had asked her to go to coffee with him when they saw each other again at the register of the flower shop after just running into each other over forget-me-nots.

He still remembered the first time he had seen her. It was at a club that Thomas had taken him to. They were in the disco section and “Got to be Real” was booming through the speaker system. She was dancing on a box in a mini-dress. The hem of her skirt was coming undone on the same side that one of her thigh high boots was being held together by a safety pin. With the thump of the music urging her on and the spotlights crisscrossing through the dancers (as if looking for her), at that moment, she was the most glamourous thing he had seen in real life. Thomas had noticed the same undoing-s and had remarked “poor thing, she’s falling apart”. “Hot”, Ryan had agreed.

As the nightclub had been a gay one, he had assumed she was a transsexual or at least a drag queen (she had been too hot to be a girl) and he had been sad for days after – wishing she weren’t a boy. A few days later he had run into her again at a coffee shop and was standing behind her as she gave her order. He had been relieved that there was nothing manly about her voice. It had come out pure glorious female.

She had seemed surprised at first when he asked her to coffee at the register of the flower shop. As a soap opera star he was used to that. It was harder than you would think for him to get a date with a quality woman. Then he remembered that the last person she had seen him with was Marie at the flamenco competition. Whom, he remembered with amusement had not even had the slightest inkling of his celebrity and had treated him like a side kick instead of the romantic lead he actually was… all evening long.

“Oh,” he said quickly with a little embarrassment “if you are worried about that woman from last night, that was just a friend of Thomas’ that stopped by unannounced. There’s nothing happening there.” He explained with the help of some hand gestures.

“Oh,” she countered “Where’s Thomas?” she asked.

“He took a gig and will be gone for a few months.”

“You must be… sad?” she asked with curiosity that seemed odd but that he couldn’t quite place.

“Not really, he’s a great friend, but it’s nice to have a place to myself. I have a roommate in Los Angeles as well – that’s where I work you know.” Taura had declined coffee but had given him her number inquiring whether he enjoyed croissants or not. She had heard of a new bakery where the croissants were supposed to be their signature bake.

“I have plans this weekend, but I’m free Monday.” Coincidentally, so was he. He didn’t have to be back in LA until Wednesday.

Ryan felt like he was skipping all the way to Dr. Khan’s office. Dr. Khan and Thomas had dated briefly but long enough for Ryan and him to become friends. Ryan played a Doctor on TV and Dr. Khan was one. He was always giving Ryan advice on how to realistically portray surgery. That’s why he was here today. He had some questions.

When the receptionist came to get him, he wanted to confess that he had a bad case of love and needed to stay in bed all weekend, but it seemed inappropriate.

“The Doctor will see you now” she said.