It was a particularly busy day. The OPD cards were piling up on my Desk. My mind was in 5 different places. My brother's exam, my aunt's scan, my unpaid bills, D's project going live and my soon-to-be-cancelled facial appointment.... considering the high pile on my desk that couldn't possibly magically disappear.

"Call the next Patient in."

"Hello Doctor," she said politely, walking in slowly, wearing an old fashioned skirt and a yellow flower printed blouse which must have looked pretty once upon a time.

"Hi, Aunty. Have a seat here. How are you?"

"I'm Fine, doctor," she said.

"You're fine? Then what are you doing here?", I asked, tongue in cheek. This lame joke always manages to crack a smile on a patient's face.

"I mean, I'm not well. I've been feeling giddy lately. And very tired."

Damn! What was the title? I thought, wondering about a song which I heard on the way to work that morning on the radio. The untitled tune with its unknown lyrics which kept playing in my head.

However, I said, "Ok. I see here that you are a hypertensive."

"Yes, doctor."

"And a diabetic?"

"Yes"

"Been regular with your medications?"

"Sometimes." Sometimes. Great answer.

"Hmmmmm...."

"Can you check my BP doctor?"

"Yes, aunty. I will in a moment. Do you have any other problem?"

"Yeah, my eye sight has been poor. I have an appointment with the eye doctor."

"Ok. Anything else?"

"I have cold in the morning?"

"Sometimes?"

"No, every morning."

"Since when?"

"For the past 10 to 15 years." Another great answer.

 "Anything else...?"

"I sometimes have gastritis, migraine and bodyache."

"Aunty, your BP and blood sugar appears to be normal today. You have to be regular with your medicines. I'll give you something for your cold. Is that ok? You can wait outside and collect your medicines," I said, my eyes darting to the pile on the desk again.

She got up to leave with a polite, "Thank you, doctor."

"You're welcome," I muttered with a barely-glance.

Her smile as she turned didn't quite reach her eyes.

Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed her hand, "Aunty, just a second....".

I knew I'm wrong. I've just wronged her. I didn't treat her. I was treating a tower of cards, trying to reduce their height.

"Aunty...... How are you?"

She smiled, not repeating her "I'm fine doctor" this time.

"You're ok..?" A question.

"You're not ok." A statement.

I looked at her, properly, for the first time.

I still held her hand, now I held her eyes.

"No...", she said. Eyes brimmed with tears, " My husband is retired, he's not well. And my son....."

Her's was a long story with multiple *sniff* *sniff* injected in between.

I pointedly ignored the irritable frown of my nurse, who kept rearranging the yellow OPD cards on my desk, hinting at the other patients waiting outside.

Here was a woman with a printed old blouse, who just wanted to be heard. We both knew that I can't cure her ailing husband, or reform her alcoholic son, or settle her large loans and medical bills, or at least slap her rude grandchildren. We both knew I can't, (though I would have liked to) do any of that.

She just Needed to be seen, needed to be heard.

The title-less tune was far away from my mind.

T'was the most meaningful, well spent 45 minutes of my time.