A good doctor treats the underlying cause of their patients’ symptoms.
A great doctor treats their psyches as well.
Margo and Mirza finally reach Mirza’s house, after the normal combination of harrowing driving tempered by cajoling cows out of the road. They pull up to a standalone, 3-level home, modern in design, with decks on the upper two levels. Once they enter, the warm walls and colorful décor stand in stark contrast to the exterior. Margo believes the world must really be flat because this house could be found just down the street from her in San Diego, minus some of the colorful wall hangings and other décor.
A beautiful, slightly built woman in a blue and yellow sari meets them at the door.
“This is my wife Keya – it means flower.”
“I am very honored that you could come to our home for tea,” Keya says while her sparkling eyes engage Margo. She performs a perfect Namaste, slightly bowing with her palms pressed together and her long, thin fingers pointing to the sky, close to her chest.
“I am very honored and touched to be invited,” says
Margo as she tries to mimic the Namaste back, wondering if it takes years of
practice to perfect, like a perfect bow.
The doctor in her knows how superior this is to the Western, germ
transferring handshake. “And who is this?” Margo asks, spying some little feet
behind a curtain in the living room, just past the entrance. A little girl with long dark, shiny hair
with the sides pulled back in a pink ribbon and a white pinafore dress digs her
way out. With two hands, she strangles a
black and white something or other and with the third hand she holds a ribbon
and a shell. After an afternoon of symbolism, Margo wonders
about the potential meaning of these items.
Keya makes the introductions; “This is Pia, our 5 year-old. Come say hi, Pia. It is OK.”
Slowly, and with the encouragement from mom, Pia approaches the group, taking
refuge behind mom’s skirt.
“Well, look at you with all those limbs!” exclaims
Margo, who should not have been surprised, but finds the sight nonetheless
fantastical. She notes that the black
and white something or other being choked is a cow. “Can
I see your beautiful cow?” Pia looks at her dad, not sure if she should hand
over her precious possession.
“It’s OK, Pia, this is Doctor Rice who takes care of all sorts of animals. She is a veterinarian,” Mirza explains.
Shyly, slowly, Pia emerges from behind the blue folds of mom skirt, looks up at Margo and after a brief pause, hands her the cow. “Can you fix her eye? I just pulled it off; I didn’t mean to do it,” says Pia apologetically.
“That’s OK Pia; these things happen. I’ll take her into the back and see if we can operate
on her in a few minutes. What is her name?”
“Molly Moo “ responds Pia.
“OK, I will take good care of Molly Moo. You know I have a 3 legged cat?”
Pia’s eyes widen and she flashes a brilliant smile at Margo, “Really, can I see some
pictures? “
“Let’s get Dr. Rice some tea first, honey. She’s had a long day,” says Keya.
Mother and daughter then leave the room, with Pia chattering away about if they could also
get a 3-legged cat, or really any cat at all, and if not that, then perhaps a
little dog, but not a bird.
“They are really lovely, Mirza. You are a lucky guy.”
“After you’ve had your tea, we’ll introduce you to Raja,
our 6-month old boy. He should be waking up soon.“
“How many arms and legs does Raja have?”
Mirza responds, while laughing heartily, “You knew it wouldn’t be the normal four! He has 4 arms and 3 legs. And, the little guy knows exactly how to use all of them.”
“Did you ever hesitate about adding the limbs?”
“No, of course not.Here in India, we are revered as powerful, like our god, not ridiculed.
You saw some of that today. And Dr. Hudini is really the greatest surgeon.”
“And Keya, did she always agree?”
“You can ask her yourself, but, hey, she married me!”
“Did she have a choice in that?”
“Actually, no. But, since I was considered “special”, I had the rare opportunity to boycott the match. But I loved her at first sight which was when I was 12 and she was 10, about 6 years after I had my limb implanted.”
“I can see why you loved her immediately, but that whole arranged marriage idea is quite
foreign to us, you know.”
“Yes, I have a sense for how strange it seems. In most cases, the parents really do try to
find good matches. I believe she loved me back immediately when we met as children and there was never any other discussion from our parents about finding different matches for us. We waited until we were 20 and 22 to get married, but we knew we’d be together and that our children would be fifth limbers. If she had any apprehensions about this, she didn’t voice them and we talk about everything! I really would have been fine with 4-limbed children, though.”
“Really? “
“100% honest.”
Keya comes back into the living room and sits within whisper distance of Margo while a
young maid places tea and biscuits on the table. Margo thinks it feels very civilized and very
British.
“I knew right away that I was lucky with Mirza, but it wasn’t because of the extra limb,
you know.” she said into Margo’s ear.
“I know it wasn’t his driving, maybe his crazy statistics? Or was he a good kisser?”
“He had a kind smile; he was kind to everyone and he laughed a lot. The extra limb was just a bonus.”
“And, I didn’t dare sneak a kiss until I was 18!” confessed Mirza. If we were caught, we’d be sent off to get
married immediately, which would have been fine with me!”
“Remember how racy we thought we were back then,” laughed Keya.
“You know kids in America start kissing and playing doctor when they are very young,”
said Margo.
“I don’t even want to know what “playing doctor” entails!” said Keya, giggling and
looking at the ceiling.
Margo doesn’t feel up to explaining: how do you even begin to make it sound less
creepy and more normal? Just then, Pia returns from the kitchen, saving Margo
from awkward explanation.
Sitting next to her dad, Pia lets go of Molly Moo to grab a cookie. Mirza puts an arm around her. “Pia, Dr. Rice knows a lot about elephants.”
“Really!” exclaims Pia. “They are my favorite animal at the zoo and daddy says I can ride one once I turn 8.”
“Dr. Rice is fascinated by their trunks.”
Margo explains how the trunk is her favorite thing in the whole animal kingdom: how
it is a combination of a big ole lip and super nose. And goes on to say how an
elephant can die if it gets damaged. She decides not to tell Pia about how unhappy elephants are in a zoo and how zoos are beginning to return them to the wild, when possible. That kind of humane awareness can wait until children are 8 or maybe even 10, she decides. Regardless of the number of limbs they possess, they still get to be kids.
Keya interjects, “they have great memories and even mourn their dead.”
“I never knew that until recently,” says Margo, thinking about the type of information they deem not important in vet school. “You know, lots of my colleagues in school didn’t even think animals have feelings like we do. All you have to do is spend a little time around a dog to understand how wrong that is.”
“Bandar is always excited to see me!” says Pia.
“That’s my brother’s Great Dane; he’s five times larger than Pia, and a bit larger than I,” says Keya. “But he knows to be gentle with her, somewhat less gentle with me and to tackle Mirza.”
As Margo sips her tea, the maid comes and retrieves Pia. Margo decides the time is right to delve into the subject on her mind. “Can you tell me about the operation with Raja? How far along in the pregnancy were you?”
“I was 20 weeks along when they took the DNA sample and reinserted the CRISPR version. Then, I had a minor operation at 30 weeks. That is where they move the limbs around a bit. I believe only 1 arm had to be adjusted and 1 leg removed. At 30 weeks, if something goes wrong with the baby, they can deliver it then and the baby survives.”
“Well”, Mirza injects “80% of the time the baby survives – after a month in an incubator”.
Margo knows he can’t help himself, but both Margo and Keya make sure he knows these women are not tolerant of dead baby jokes. “Not funny, Mirza.” Margo says while Keya slaps one of his hands and gives him a big frown. Then, turning back to Keya, Margo asks, “And how was the operation for you?”
“Oh, really nothing. They just gave me a spinal and it took less than an hour. Everything was done laparoscopically; I walked out and just felt kind of tired for the rest of the day – which was not unusual for me at 30 weeks, anyhow. And, as you will see, our baby boy came out perfectly.”
“You never had any concerns about doing this?”
“No, of course not,” Keya said. As Margo wondered if she was as bit too enthusiastic with the reply, Keya added, “They will be so advantaged! And, it seemed rather normal to me after all of those years swooning over their dad”. With this, Margo decides that right or wrong, it is an honest reply with honest feelings.
“Sorry to grill you,” Margo inquires, “but was it significantly different than with Pia?”
“Not very different for me, but way different for Pia because she needed an operation when she was a few months old. That was part of the procedure then, but no longer. It is so much easier for the child now.
“Here in India, I was not worried about the societal acceptance. There is a long history of gods with extra arms, as you saw today. And, those people lucky enough to have extra limbs are treated as gods. I do worry about keeping my children humble, particularly because it is much venerated here in India, considered the foundation to all virtues and the key to achievement; and then they have this crazy dad.
Mirza shrugs his shoulders, both palms flying in the air, mouth agape in the international what, who, me? look.
“Margo, I worry that you will not experience the same acceptance in the US.”
“You are right there! I will probably get arrested for child abuse or some kind of DNA re-engineering law, not yet enacted! I must say, though”, Margo says with a large, generous smile, “you are a great walking, talking advertisement for this. And, I have no doubt about YOUR ability to keep Pia and Raja humble. Now, do you perhaps have some glue so the doctor can operate?” Margo picks up the cow and gives it a very, very serious look before delivering a big kiss on its forehead.