Purely fiction, trust me

I have gotten a divorce. Now hold on mom, I know you’re reading this and getting palpitations, probably wheezing and grabbing a belt to come after me. I am not getting divorced from the madam, if that’s what you’re thinking. Hell no! What? You think I am crazy? I got divorced from my doctor, whom I have known for over 20 years, long before I had even met my wife. This is a painful, traumatic decision for me, as I have known my doctor since childhood. You see, a month ago, I visited my doctor although I was in the pink (ok, well yellow to be precise) of health. My visit came days after several persons at Newsday came down with the dreaded Chicken Pox disease, which I hear has been making the rounds in this country. Never having caught the Pox (which is weird since I eat chicken with gleeful abandon) and not wanting to get it at this stage, I decided it prudent to visit the doc and get immunised.

After waiting for about an hour (my doctor does a roaring trade) until it was my turn, I entered his office and told him what I had come for. After immunising me, he told me to come back in a month for a second shot. We talked for a while and then I stupidly asked, “how much doc?.” “Three-hundred and fifty dollars, Ken,” the doc replied cool as a cucumber. Had surgery been performed on me when I wasn’t looking? I certainly felt sick! Then and there, the seeds of discontent were sown. In a daze, I paid up, all the while wondering how one simple-yet-painful injection, which took less than two seconds to administer, could cost so much. Last Monday I got the second shot and would you believe this second prick cost me another $350? No need to tell you how sick I was. Jeezanages!!!! A whopping $700 to get immunised for one disease? What about the other contagious diseases lurking out there? Then and there I decided the time was ripe to go back to the old time and cheaper days.

Enter Cedric, my new best friend. Passing through my old stomping ground in Curepe after leaving the swindler’s office (oops I meant doctor), I spotted a small sign nailed to the wooden post of a street light which read: “Cedric the bush medicine man...kyours for anyting. Cheep prises.” How could I resist a sign like that? Just then Cedric appeared out of nowhere and introduced himself. Living in a shack with no electricity or running water, made me wonder how a fit looking Cedric got by on a daily basis. But when I later checked with people from the area they all said Cedric was a real smart man. I decided to keep him in mind. Surely such a person would not rob me blind like certain people I used to call friends. I telephoned my doctor, told him how he was damn expensive and that I would not need him anymore. Quickie divorce, one time.

Now I am not one to get sick very often, and my now ex-doctor could attest to this. But lo and behold I felt very sick to my stomach last Thursday so I decided to pay Cedric a visit at his medical abode.  After telling him how I felt, Cedric chuckled and rubbed his hands in glee. “Chin (his pet name for me) iz ah blight you get. Ah sure yuh watching that blasted West Indies cricket, now look wha happen. Dem fellas blight transfer over to you.” I was in awe of Cedric. The man surely had no way of knowing  that I am the world’s greatest unknown cricketer and that I listened to the entire match last Wednesday and cringed as dotish West Indian boys fell meekly chasing under 200 to win. And is true, I really started to get a bad feeling after the match. Cedric was a genius. Worried the blight would last as long as the Windies’ woes, I beseeched Cedric to cure me. 

Still chuckling at me, Cedric rose to the occassion unlike the so-called West Indian cricketers and laid out what I needed to banish the blight. Some green fig, chive, tomatoes, potatoes, some fresh slices of carite, a dry coconut, some flour and a pack of Maggi taste-maker. Seeing the puzzled look on my face, he hastily added that I should also get some senna pods, fever grass and cucumbers....this he said was necessary for the bush bath which would draw out the blight. Now you know me. I ent playing I know more about these things than Cedric, so I hustled to the market to get the items and at $150, I was sure Cedric was giving me a real bargain. No longer would I have to pay $700 to some blasted tief in doctor’s clothing.

I returned to Cedric’s shack huffing under the weight of the items just purchased. Taking the items, Cedric gave me the senna pods, cucumbers and fever grass and told me to go home and bathe with them. He then hustled into the shack, whistling happily holding onto my carite, chives, green fig, coconut and the flour. I could have sworn he did a jig. When I called out to him asking how much for his service, he watched me in amazement — a look that conveyed how insulted he was that I should even mention money. “Iz aright Chin, this time is free as iz yuh first time.” Gosh what a find I had made. Running home, I did as I was told and bathed with the senna pods and cucumbers, while my distressed wife wondered who was this insane man pretending to be her husband.

The next day I still felt ill and went back to Cedric only to see the shack empty and the neighbours laughing at me. Cedric, I learnt had very much enjoyed the fish broth provided courtesy a very idiotic Chinee boy. Feeling like a rusty nail in a drain and with my ego badly bruised and stomach still upset, I put aside my pride and went back to my doctor telling him all that had happened to me. I literally went on bended knees begging for him to take me back. He immediately diagnosed the flu and gave me medication. When I sheepishly asked him how much, he turned to me and smiled triumphantly. “This one is on the house Ken. You’ve suffered enough.” NOTE: Now see here. This is a pure work of fiction. Nothing in this resembles the truth. Ahem.