After The Honeymoon

14. Drifting Apart

Madiha

We doctors are the worst when it comes to taking care of our own health. And we make every excuse under the sun to not visit a doctor for an annual checkup. 

- We're too busy

- We know our own bodies

- If there was something seriously wrong with us, we would know it

- We already know everything the doctor will tell us, heck we too went to medical school

And on and on it goes. Especially, when you are young and relatively healthy. And feel invincible, not any different than many other young adults out there. Even though we doctors should know better. 

"Alright, I'll make a deal with you," I told Omar on the phone as I lay in bed. "You make an appointment to get checked out, and I will make one for myself too."

"But I already went to the doctor," he whined, his voice muffled like it always was when he was speaking through the protective gear he wore in his BSL3 lab. 

"And when exactly did you go?"

"When I started residency."

 "Peeing in a cup and getting a TB test at employee health more than two years ago is not the same as a regular check-up."

Thus went our conversation that day till I eventually convinced him to make that appointment otherwise I refused to visit him in Chicago. "Meanie," he muttered. 

"Meanies make the best wives, didn't you know?"

He laughed, "Well, in that case you are the meanest of all meanies."

That playful banter might not have seemed much to an outsider, but we both knew that every second and every word of that conversation mattered. Who knew when we'd be able to spare time from our busy schedules to chat freely like this again. Lately, he had been putting in extra hours at Dr. Sanders' lab, while I took on additional shifts to cover Moin's upcoming college semester fees.

I often wondered, how we had gotten to that point. Yet, here we were, grappling to carve out time for a simple phone conversation.

"Madi, the timer just went off," he said softly. "I have to go."

I sighed. "Ok. I should get some sleep too."

"I'll come kiss you in your dreams," he chuckled. 

"You better. I love you."

"Love you too."

The phone went silent. I was too exhausted to even dream that night. 

*******

If I was a hypocrite, I would be spending the little amount of my free time in a spa. But I wasn't. So here I was sitting in the doctor's office waiting for that awkward moment when she would come in, recognize me as a fellow colleague and then ask me about my sex life, before examining me for any signs of breast, cervix or ovarian cancers or other abnormalities by accessing parts of me that only Omar had access to on a regular basis. 

I was still psyching myself up when a young woman not too much older than me opened the door and walked in while rubbing alcohol foam on her hands. 

"Hi! I am Dr Vikram. Are you Madiha Omar?" she smiled, looked at my chart, then squinted her eyes at me. "And why is that name so familiar?"

And so, it began. 

I managed to chuckle, "Yes, I am Madiha. I am also the first year Infectious Diseases fellow. I think we may have spoken on the phone last week about a patient with shingles and COVID."