The speaker crackles loudly before a name that isn’t mine screeches through the waiting room noise for them to collect their folder. The sun’s rising rays spill through the windows onto Groote Schuur’s hospital floor. The tuck shop is conveniently placed at the entrance, I got a coffee and a koeksister when I got here. It kept me lekker warm. The aunty leans in closer, ready to spill her life history, but I press my eyes closed, avoiding her cue. Usually I love these interactions. Not today.
Today I want to see the doctor and get out without seeing anyone I know. I put in a day of sick leave but didn’t tell my parents I wasn’t going to work. I didn’t want to worry them ahead of time. Once I know what’s what, I’ll tell them. I suck in a breath. Hopefully I’ll have nothing to tell. The weight of not knowing if the lump in my breast is cancerous or not has been heavy. Its kept me awake often. My sister Latifah, the self-proclaimed yapper, was fluent last night. She knew I needed a distraction. I fell asleep before she stopped
Slumping in the uncomfortable maroon plastic chair, my numb bum already says it’s had enough. Two hours down and so many more to go. At least I have an appointment today and won’t be turned away because the quota for the day has been met. The speaker crackles again and I brace myself.
“Yasmeen Jacobs, Yasmeen Jacobs to window G.”
I sprint out of my chair to get my valuable folder. I thank the lady behind the counter and rush to G floor for the breast clinic. The elevator isn’t even open properly before I rush out and drop my folder in the tray at the receptionist desk. The maroon chairs are swopped for long dark blue wooden benches in the waiting room. I retrieve my book, a thriller, a distraction while I wait my turn with the doctor. Despite the predictions Latifah made in my room last night, I made it here on time and I may very well be out of here by one o clock. I smile smugly, knowing she’ll hate being wrong.
Waiting on the bed, I wipe clammy hands on the hospital gown. It’s tied to the front for the examination. The nurse gave me privacy while I changed inside the small room. She said the doctor would be in soon. But that’s what happens at public hospitals. You spend a lot of time waiting.
Skin tingling, I watch the door like a hawk. It opens and I lurch on the bed. A tall man follows with floppy dark brown hair, looking down at a notebook in his hands.
The nurse says, “The patient has a lump on the left breast doctor. She has a referral letter form the day hospital for further investigation because she has family history of breast cancer.”
He grunts and a pen scratches across the page. A lump forms in my throat. Her words make it more real. Shutting my eyes, I will this to be over.
“Thank you Sister.”
He hasn’t looked up yet, but my eyes are wide as she hands him my folder and walks out of the room. The door clicking closed behind her.
The silence in the room is as stark as the walls. I run my eyes over the familiar shape in front of me.
He puts his pen in his pocket, opens my folder to take my history out.
“Good morning, my name is…”
I fill in the blank for him. “Mahdi.”
His head jerks up at my voice. He stares. I stare back. A pin could drop and sound like an explosion in here.
The first time he spoke to me on the bus plays like a movie in my head. How he chewed the corner of his lip before asking me out on a date. How his eyes lit up when I said yes. How he swallowed hard before leaning forward to kiss me and lost his plak at the last second. I can’t believe he’s here.
We used to talk for hours, sit in comfortable silence or one of us would babble and the other would listen. This awkwardness was never us. Until the end. When everything fell apart and I was left in pieces. I swallow through the thickness in my throat. I have so much to say, but the words are stuck in my head.
“Well, this is a surprise.” He smiles, eyes unsure. My mind keeps travelling to our past. What his smile felt like against my lips the first time he kissed me. What those lips felt like against my skin as he teased me.
Pressing my eyes closed I wish him away. I wasn’t supposed to run into him when I looked like this. I was supposed to be in my best business suit, high heels and hair gezhoosh. Confident. Not on the verge of finding out if the lump in my breast is cancerous. In a red washed-out set from Mr Price I bought at the beginning of covid when lounge wear became a thing.
“When you open your eyes, I’m still going to be here.”
His voice is closer. Older. With the same cockiness I remember. I huff out a breath and find him at the foot of the bed. His eyes have lines now, the laugh lines are more pronounced too. He allows me to look my fill, returning the gesture, clocking the difference six years have made.
He clears his throat holding my folder against his side. “The other doctor will be here in a few minutes to do the exam, but I can leave…”
“No.” I say hastily and too loud in the small examination room. I take a breath. This shouldn’t be so uncomfortable.
Softer, I say, “No, it’s okay. I’d rather there’s one person here I know.”
Our eyes lock and a memory sizzles between us. His voice in my ear, rasping how good I feel. My body goes hot. His eyes darken. Lips parted, he moves towards me when the door bursts open. Squeaking on its hinges.
“Good morning, uh,” She learns my name from the folder Mahdi is hastily holding up for her. “Mrs Jacobs.” She laughs, mouth open wide, walking to stand next to me. “What are the chances two people in the exam room have the same surname. I’m Doctor Esau.” She smiles down at me warmly. I smile back. She reaches for the sanitiser and rubs her hands together. “Doctor?”
Mahdi clears his throat. “The patient was referred to us from Surrey Estates Day hospital because she was complaining of feeling something in her breast.” Alarmed eyes lift to mine. I look at my hands unable to stand it.
Doctor Esau asks, “Which side?”
I don’t look up.
He says, “The left side.”
I focus on her as she explains the exam, asking me to lie down. I’m grateful to have the ceiling to look at instead of Mahdi. Doctor Esau lifts the one flap of my gown and looks straight ahead as she instructs me to put my arm up and examines my breast. I may have gotten here early, but she needs to see over a hundred more patients today. There isn’t time for dilly-dallying.
When she’s done, she makes sure I’m covered and asks me to sit up. Removing the gloves she tosses it in the bin at the end of the bed, sanitising her hands again. With linked fingers she smiles at me reassuringly.
“The lump in your breast is about 2cm in length and twice as wide. It feels quite dense, so we want to rule out all possibilities.”
I nod in a stupor. She’s saying more, but the words blur. I remember how Ouma cried when her hair fell out during her chemo treatment. I’ve always kept mine short but I don’t think I have the face to pull off being completely bald. And what if they have to remove my whole breast? I’ll be uneven. Does medical aid cover breast surgery in that case? Maybe I could do a lift on the other side too. An all in one.
“Mrs. Jacobs?” Her kind eyes catch mine.
Lips pressed together I force stop the thoughts careening through my head and nod for her to continue.
“The lump is pronounced but relatively small. You said there’s a history of breast cancer in your family?”
I nod past the ringing in my ears. My throat feels dry. I have to swallow before I say,
“Uhm yes. My mom was diagnosed 8 years ago. They removed both breasts. It’s why we do regular exams at home.”
Doctor Esau waits patiently for me to continue.
“My Ouma got her diagnosis before my mom but I can’t remember exactly how many years ago that was.”
Shifting closer, her hand reaches for my forearm and rests there lightly. She allows me the small break.
She says, “I know it’s a lot to take in. But until we have the results from the biopsy, we cannot say it’s cancerous or not. Unfortunately with your family history, the possibility is there.” She pauses.
I pull in a deep breath. I know this already. But this is a hospital. It’s different to hear it from a doctor.
“There has been quite a shift in treatment and interventions since you mom was diagnosed. But we don’t want to get ahead of ourselves.” She taps my arm with her fingers. “You’ve picked up the lump quite early. Let’s do the biopsy, get the results and take it from there, okay.”
Doctor Esau gestures to Mahdi with her other hand. “Dr Jacobs will schedule a biopsy and then we’ll call you in for an appointment to discuss the results okay?”
I nod. “Thank you Doctor.”
Her smile, accompanied by a last squeeze of my arm, feels genuine. She walks to Mahdi, taking my folder from him and pauses at the door.
“We’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed. Dr Jacobs and Sister Scheepers will be back to let you know about the biopsy procedure.”
I think some time alone will be good for me. “Thank you doctor.”
Mahdi gnaws at the corner of his lip as he glances my way before Doctor Esau starts ushering him out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I sit there. Deep down I knew this was how it was gonna go but having your worst-case scenario spoken out loud is never fun. Looking up at the ceiling I let out a long breath. I say, “Let this be something I can handle Amin.”
Sliding off the bed I start to get dressed. I’m sitting on the chair, tying my shoelaces when the door opens slightly and the nurses says my name, asking permission to come inside.
“I’m dressed sister, it’s okay.”
She walks in smiling and gives me my hospital card, explaining how I must come back in two weeks and how it’s all going to work. I expect Mahdi to follow.
He doesn’t.
I take my card and shove it in my bag. It’s stupid to have expected him to come back.
Stepping out of the elevator, my phone rings. Rummaging in my bag I finally find it to see Latifa’s name on the screen. Before I can even say hello, her voice is in my ear.
“And so? What did they say?”
“Slm beloved sister of mine. How are you?”
“Cut the shit and tell me.” Her voice trembles.
Avoiding knocking into anyone, I keep walking with the phone held to my ear.
I rattle off the update, knowing she won’t rest until I tell her everything. “But that’s not the most interesting thing that happened today.”
I’m met with a sceptical silence.
I’m still in disbelief and need someone else to know. “Mahdi was one of my doctors.”
She shouts over the phone. “Your husband Mahdi?!”
I hold the phone away from ear until she’s quiet. “Jor, can you not shout so.”
More subdued, she asks. “What did he say?”
“We weren’t alone cause he’s mos working. He didn’t say much of anything but I’m done now and I’m busy leaving and I, I haven’t seen him again. He was supposed to come back with the sister, but, but he didn’t .” My shoulders droop, while I grip the phone in place and my eyes burn with tears. I blink them away.
She says, “You guys need to get over yourselves and just talk.”
Sighing, I wipe the corner of my eyes. “It’s not that simple Latifah.”
“Titi, it really is.”
Sniffling, I say, “Okay whoa with the big guns.” I’m only Titi when she skells.
Her voice goes higher again. “You had a mental episode. No one understood what was happening to you.”
“My dead best friend appeared out of nowhere and told me who her killer was. Yes, I remember, I was there.” I reach into my bag for a tissue and wipe my nose.
“You were traumatised by her death. Mahdi was just starting med school. You were both young. Hence why, you need to talk to each other.”
Tossing the used tissue into a bin, I walk a bietjie faster, needing to be out of the same building he is in. “We tried that remember?”
“Not with the parentals. Just the two of yous this time.”
I reach the door of the outpatients building, rushing into the fresh air and lean one hand against one of the pillars in front of the entrance.
My sister’s voice softens. “You know I’m right.”
Shutting my eyes tight, I know she is. But too much time has passed. His parents forced him to give one talaq. They forced him to leave me. They said his degree had to take priority. But he went along with it. He didn’t object. He said nothing. He never reached out to me. Not a message. Nothing. And my number hasn’t changed. Someone gets up from the outside benches and I take their place with my tote on my lap.
Latifah pleads, “Go find him.”
I try to imagine what that would look like. Rejection. Through and through.
Voice breaking, I say defeatedly. “I can’t.”
Impatient she says, “What if I tell you that daddy told him to stay away from you?”
I scoff. “What?”
Heavy breathing is all I hear. I bolt up straight. Using my titi voice, I command, “Latifah.”
She takes a sharp breath and then spills the secret.
My heart stops before it takes off at breakneck speed.
I say, “I have to go.”
Leaning forward, I gasp for breath. I have to find him. I need to know.
Pushing off the bench, a flurry of movement at the entrance catches my attention. A floppy dark-haired man runs outside, turning every which way frantically.
He spots me and freezes. There’s a flush on his cheeks. Eyes wild, desperate, he stumbles forward.
“Yasmeen, wait.”