Madam, Im someone important, I havent got all day to wait about like you!
And what followed left him embarrassed before everyone.
The hospital corridor, as I remember it, held the scent of antiseptic and weariness, hanging heavy in the air.
On a cold, hard chair sat a woman, dressed plainly, clutching her bag to her chest as if she were holding onto both hope and dread in one embrace.
It was still early that morning.
Since seven oclock shed been there, her gaze fixed hopefully on the doctors door. She had come from far off, nearly 120 miles from her village. She made no complaints. She said not a word. She simply waited.
There were others about her: a man with a bandaged hand, a young woman with sleepless eyes red-rimmed, a mother with a child sleeping across her shoulder. Most sat in a hush, sharing the same silent prayer: Lord, grant us grace.
It was at that moment a man appeared at the far end of the hall.
He must have been seventy-five, a distinguished gentleman, his cane polished, his coat tailored of the finest material, a smart hat set on his head. He walked with the confidence of one long accustomed to doors being opened for him.
He spoke not a word.
He looked at no soul.
He strode past, as though the corridor were but a narrow inconvenience standing between him and his desires.
He reached the door to the doctors office.
He reached for the handle, ready to enter.
That was when the woman stood, slowly, with no fire nor spectacle, just the quiet dignity of someone who possessed little, but whose decency stood tall.
Sir its my turn. Ive been waiting since seven this morning. Ive come from 120 miles away.
The old man turned, as if only then realising he wasnt alone in the hall. He offered her a quick, frosty smile.
Madam, I am someone of stature. I havent time to dally about like you!
And with a sharper edge to his voice, he added,
When you reach my age having truly achieved something in life, youll know times far too precious to waste in queues.
She stood still, her pride wounded not for the lost place in line, but for the humiliation, like cold rain on bare skin.
The hall was heavy with silence.
The hush didnt last long.
Suddenly, the doctors door swung open.
The doctor, in his fifties, emerged, white coat creased, eyes tired from the long night. He regarded the scene before him.
Whats the trouble here?
The old man stepped forward, steadfast.
Doctor, Im here for my appointment. Kindly see me straightaway. I have no time to wait.
The doctor looked at him for a few seconds, then turned to the woman.
Youre the lady whos been waiting since seven?
She nodded.
Yes Ive come a long way this morning
The doctor exhaled deeply and then turned back to the old gentleman, voice calm and steady but cutting deeper than any reprimand.
Sir I do know you.
The old man paused, a hint of pride sharpening his stance.
The doctor continued:
You were my teacher, all those years ago.
The corridor froze.
The old man smiled, satisfied, as though his standing had just been confirmed, as though all was right and natural.
Yet the doctor did not smile in return.
I remember one lesson in particular, one you repeated year after year. Youd say:
The worth of a person isnt shown by their fine clothes, their position, or how loudly they speak but by the respect they show those who have no voice.
The old man blinked rapidly, unsure of himself now, his steady cane trembling ever so slightly.
The doctor stepped closer, no malice in his voiceonly stinging truth.
Today you were not someone special.
Today, you were merely a man who forgot to be a good man.
The old mans face flushed. His jaw tightened. Around the hall, no one spoke, but every gaze was judge and jury.
The doctor opened the door to his office and declared in a voice for all to hear,
The lady will come in now. Its her turn.
The woman entered, wet-eyed but head held high.
The old man slunk to a seat by the wall. He sat, and he waited.
For the first time in an age, he comprehended that to truly be someone was not to stride over others, but to walk with them, side by side.
When at last it was his turn, he entered quietly.
And before he could voice his complaints or ailments, he said only,
Doctor Im sorry for earlier.
The doctors face softened, his smile gentle.
It is never too late to behave with decency, sir.
A persons true value is not in the volume of their words, but in the goodness of their conduct.
You may be someone to the world and yet remain small in the eyes of kindness.
And the humble, the patient, the quietby their dignity, they stand tall.
Tell me this: what might you have done in the womans shoes? Or the doctors?
And if this story stirred even a small warmth in your heart, pass it along
Someone, somewhere, may need a tender reminder to simply be human.
