“His life is at the tip of your pen.”
Leo sat down across from me again.
He leaned forward.
“What should I do, Mom? Send him away? Reject him?”
“I could have had security throw him out onto the street right now – just like he threw us out.”
I shook my head.
“That’s too easy, son. If we throw him out now, he’ll feel like a victim.”
“He won’t realize who we are. He won’t feel real pain.”
“Then let him in,” I said coldly. “Let him come into the office. Let him have hope.”
“Let him think a kind doctor will help him. Give him the best hope possible—and then throw him off your back with all your might.”
Leo was silent for a moment, analyzing the situation.
Slowly a gentle smile appeared on his face.
It wasn’t a friendly smile from a doctor.
It was the smile of a son ready to demand justice.
“I understand,” Leo said.
“I will not approve his application for financial assistance through the administration. I will call him here. I will investigate him myself.”
“Exactly,” I agreed.
“He doesn’t know you’re a doctor here. He doesn’t know your full name in the system.”
“All he knows is that he needs the approval of the branch manager.”
“Let him tremble with fear of the diagnosis. Let him feel small.”
Leo nodded.
“I’ll explain to him how serious his condition is. I’ll tell him that without expensive treatment, he’ll die a slow, painful death.”
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