Her First Patient · Second Shift · Pulse Beat

It was a boy of seven with a fever, on a Tuesday, in the paediatric ward. He had been brought in at dawn by his mother, a thin woman in a faded sari, who stood at the foot of the bed twisting a…

It was a boy of seven with a fever, on a Tuesday, in the paediatric ward.

He had been brought in at dawn by his mother, a thin woman in a faded sari, who stood at the foot of the bed twisting a handkerchief. The registrar was in theatre. The intern was at lunch. Fatima, a third-year student with six weeks of clinical experience, was alone with a feverish child and a terrified mother.

She took his temperature. She checked his throat and chest, felt his neck, and noticed, under the left ear, a small hard swelling. She remembered a case in a book. She called for the registrar, and while she waited, she sat on the edge of the bed and took the boy's hand.

"What's your name?"

"Arjun."

"Arjun, I'm going to tell you a story while we wait." She spoke softly, like a nurse. "There was a boat, and a lighthouse..." It was the only story she knew by heart, one that Mr Rao had told her. By the time the registrar came, the boy was asleep, and his mother, who had stopped twisting the handkerchief, was looking at Fatima with something like worship.