On the other hand

What is the sound of one hand clapping? Zen Buddhist paradox or koan.

While doing a bit of surfing on the net, I came across this amusing anecdote. A man meets a friend in the street, looking worried. ‘What’s the trouble?’ he inquires. ‘Quick,’ says his friend, ‘I need help – do you know a one-armed lawyer?’ ‘Why does he have to be one-armed?’ ‘Well,’ says his friend, ‘I’m involved in a very complicated case, and every time I go to a lawyer he says, ‘On the one hand you can do this, and on the other hand you can do that.’ Presumably the moral of that gag is that when you consult your lawyer, doctor or investment consultant, you would appreciate a straight answer, a clear diagnosis or recommendation instead of beating round the bush and leaving you in a quandary. The last thing one wants from professionals who are retained to counsel and reassure you, and in whose hands you repose your faith, is a wishy-washy, neither-here-nor-there opinion. The unfortunate part of it is that oftentimes, that is exactly what happens. It is colloquially referred to as ‘covering one’s backside’ but it does little to enhance the client’s confidence.

The other day, I was at my GP’s clinic for a routine throat infection problem which needed a quick-fix medical prescription, a course of salt gargle and, as they say in England, Bob’s your uncle. However, the course of a doctor’s consultation rarely runs smooth. I walked into the medico’s chamber looking as cheerful as it was possible while coughing intermittently.

‘Good morning, Doc.’

He quickly put on his face mask (you can never be too careful these days with coughing patients) and greeted me perfunctorily.

‘Good morning, and what seems to be the problem?’

I would have thought that was obvious. Still, I soldiered on. ‘Sore throat, Doc. Streptococcal whatever you wish to call it. It’s in the air. A course of antibiotics should do the trick.’ As usual in front of a doctor, I tried to sound casual and unconcerned, jabbering more than required.

‘Allow me to be the judge of that’ he responded tartly. ‘Please stick your tongue out and open your mouth wide. Aaaah! Yes, tongue thickly coated and the back of your throat is a sorry mess.’ He then pressed a button under his table for the nurse.

‘Nurse, please take the patient’s temperature, blood pressure and pulse reading while I see the next patient.’

I followed the nurse to another room where she did the needful. ‘Look nurse, I am not running a temperature and my BP is always rock solid. Do we really need all this?’ She just said those two immortal words and shoved the thermometer into my mouth before I could blab any further, ‘Doctor’s orders.’ There was a finality in her tone that brooked no argument. In any case, I couldn’t argue, what with the thermometer stuck in my mouth. Simultaneously she strapped the inflatable cuff round my left arm and went to work with the inflation bulb, valve and stethoscope watching the pressure gauge like a hawk. She certainly knew her onions. When all that rigmarole was done, she scribbled some numbers on a piece of paper.

‘All normal, nurse?’ I asked. She made no response and strutted off to the doctor’s chamber with her scrap of paper. She then asked me to wait till the patient inside came out. ‘So how did my numbers stack up?’ I might have betrayed just a wee bit of anxiety. ‘Doctor will speak to you,’ she said, rather ominously.

At last, I got the call after the patient inside came out coughing uncontrollably. Perhaps I should have also worn a mask, what with germs floating about the place, if floating is what germs do. It is my firm conviction that perfectly normal people can catch all kinds of infection when they walk into a clinic or hospital. Stands to reason. Anyhow, I walked in breezily.

‘Here I am again, Doc. Like the proverbial bp. No, no, not your kind of 120/80 BP. Bad penny. Sorry, just shooting the breeze. The nurse took all the tests. Did I pass? By the way, great win for RCB yesterday. I know you’re a fan.’

The doctor was not to be distracted by my nervousness-induced small talk. ‘Look, I am not sure what to make of this. Your BP is slightly elevated, temperature just under 100, and the throat is really ugly. I do not like the redness and the yellow, puss-like formation. Hmmm.’

‘Well, I don’t much care for it either, Doc. What are you going to do about it? That is the question.’ Come to think of it, I did not like his ‘Hmmm’ one bit.

He hummed and hawed some more. ‘To do or not to do. That is the question.’

I was beginning to get a bit fidgety. ‘Less of the Hamlet soliloquy, if you don’t mind Doc. What is it that you wish to do or not to do?’

‘Send you for some more tests. I am conflicted. There is a decent lab just down the road, I could prescribe a further analysis including blood samples and chest X-rays. An MRI can be considered, if push comes to shove. You have insurance? On the other hand, I could prescribe some strong medication and watch and wait. What do you think?’

You see what I mean? It went on like that for a few more minutes. He also added that he is a CSK fan to which I offered my condolences. I finally lost patience and he probably lost a patient. I told him I have an urgent meeting to attend and that I will get back to him later in the day. I went home, sucked on several throat lozenges through the day, salt-gargled three times with hot water and the next morning, I was right as rain.

It was not very different with my investment consultant. The market has been going up and down like a yo-yo, mostly down. Every time Donald Trump makes an announcement about the war in Iran and in particular, the Strait of Hormuz, my meagre ill-gotten gains tend to do a flip-flop which might very well account for my elevated BP and throat allergy which my doctor was so conflicted about. I was on my mobile in a trice and called my financial doctor for the umpteenth time.

‘I say, have you seen the Sensex this morning. Down 1500 points. Don’t know about Hormuz but I am in dire straits. Should I pull everything out and put it into an FD in my bank? Low on interest yes, but high on safety. I am already in the red. Can’t afford to be taken to the cleaners. What say you?’

Long pause from the consultant. ‘You have a point Sir. Situation is volatile. We have solid information that India’s trade deal with the U.S. is going through and that Iran and the U.S. are on the verge of a deal. Our fundamentals are strong. On the other hand, Israel is still refusing to play ball. Which is why, I am not sure. Why don’t we wait for a couple of days more?’ While I go bankrupt.

I was miffed. ‘What Donald Trump thinks today, he does not think tomorrow eh? All that geo-political hogwash just to tell me you don’t know. Why can’t you stick your neck out and let your yea be yea and your nay be nay, as my Warden in school used to say? I can’t put you in jail, even if I am skint.’

‘On the one hand Sir, I can’t deny I am also in a bit of a hole. Then again, on the other hand…’

I cut the line. I decided to consult my car cleaner. He will give me a shrewd idea of what to do. It is the same story with my lawyer.

 ‘Do you feel we have a strong case?’ I ask my legal beak about the accident damages case.

‘That depends on who the judge is. If it is Judge Grumps, we could be in for a rough ride and might have to move to a higher court. On the other hand, if we strike it lucky and get Judge Smiley, we could be in for a windfall. It all depends.’

I was about to add, ‘Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,” / Like the poor cat i’ the adage?’ Then again, I thought better of it. He would have just looked blankly at me.

At the end of the day, doctors, investment consultants or lawyers, we can’t do without them. We are caught between two stools. Rather like those characters from Dante’s Inferno, trapped between two circles of hell. And lest we forget, we shell out an arm and a leg for the dubious privilege.