dr. kahn walks into the hospital for a medical, sure of his good health. he is renewing his contract and the university has requested a medical – so here he is, all six feet three of him, to get one. he sits in the ‘bleeding room’ staring at the garish anti-smoking cancer poster of a deformed man as a beautiful nurse bleeds him. just as bleeder is about to label the vials a pretty young lady in a lab-coat walks into the room. “hey, dr kahn, how are you?” she looks at his extended right arm with the cotton wool and tape, “is something wrong?” he smiles. he gets up and hugs her. “no. job renewal.” she smiles. “it’s so good to see you, you haven’t changed at all.” he smiles. “you too. what are you doing here?” the phone in the bleeding room rings. “i work in the lab.” the bleeder picks up the phone. “hello … what’s the name? khan. how do you spell that? … just one moment … they will be ready tomorrow, you can come in in the morning to see the doctor … you too,” she hangs up. she turns to dr. kahn who is ready to leave, “your results will be ready by tomorrow mr, khan.” he thanks her and starts to walk out. “hold on dr. kahn, i will walk you out,” then to the bleeder, “i’ll be back.” she walks out with dr. kahn chattering. just over three months later dr. kahn is sitting in the waiting area in the hospital. a man is moaning and groaning in the row behind him. “what are you here for?” the man in pain responds “my prostate.” the woman in a hand-sling looks at him – confused. “can you believe i came here three months ago for a blood test, they found nothing, but just last week they did another test and they say my prostate is enlarged. that my psa is over 600.” the woman in a hand-sling looks at him – her forehead, a crumpled paper-bag. “is that why –” the man in pain shifts carefully in his seat “yes. it’s like i am sitting on a golf ball.” a doctor emerges from his office, file in hand. “khan.” both dr. kahn and the man in pain get up and walk and shuffle towards him. “are you with him?” dr. kahn looks at the man in pain. “no, i’m kahn.” the doctor looks at kahn and then at the man in pain. “viraj khan.” silence. “that’s me,” the man in pain groans, and shuffles in front of the doctor into his office. dr. kahn turns to return to his seat, just as the lady in the lab-coat from over three months back walks into the waiting area. “dr. kahn, how are you?” dr. kahn accepts her extended hand, then hugs her. “i’m not sure.” she laughs. “what are you here for?” moving away from the others in the waiting area, dr. kahn lowers his voice, “they told me my psa was four hundred plus when i came the next day for my results.” the area between her eyes fold into three ridges, “what results? i haven’t processed another blood sample from you, do you mean the one from that time i saw you?” dr. kahn nods. “what? i processed your blood sample. there was no request for –” then it dawned on her. “is that why you are here?” dr. kahn smiles ruefully. “i’m here for my second zoladex implant.”