“The administration sometimes misunderstands priorities. I need urgent help.”
“I read your file,” Leo interrupted sharply, ignoring the conversation.
“Your condition is very bad, Mr. Peterson. Why did it take you so long to come?”
Mark stuttered.
“You know, Doctor, I’m busy. I have a lot of projects, so my health has declined a bit.”
“But don’t worry. I’m tough. It’s just a small wound on my foot that won’t heal.”
“A small wound?” Leo repeated with sharp cynicism.
“The fourth and fifth toes on my left foot are necrotic—completely dead. They’re black, right?”
“And that smell. I can smell it all the way from here, even through the mask.”
Silence.
I imagined Mark’s face turning red with shame.
His sky-high pride was scratched.
“It’s… it’s because I haven’t changed the dressing since yesterday,” Mark apologized.
“Listen, doctor, the most important thing is that I need immediate intervention. Dialysis and foot surgery.”
“But there is a small technical issue with the administration regarding the deposit.”
“I heard that as director you have the authority to grant… let’s call it a special policy for priority patients.”
“Are you applying for financial aid?” Leo asked, getting straight to the point.
“No, Doctor. I’m borrowing this place,” Mark quickly corrected, too proud to admit his poverty.
“My assets are not liquid right now. My money is tied up in real estate investments.”
“So I just need your signature on this charity care form so I can start the procedures.”
“As soon as I get my money back, I’ll give it all back – in cash.”
Lie after lie.
I was tired of hearing this.
I closed the magazine I was holding in my hand.
This farce is over.
It’s time for me to take the stage.
“Real estate investments,” I said.
My voice cut through the room before I turned around.
“You mean that rented apartment by the river that floods every spring?”
The atmosphere froze.
“Who is that?” asked Mark, surprised.
Only then did he realize that there was someone else in the room besides the nurse.
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