The Wonder Doctor

It was morning handover in the doctors’ room, a space that during weekends doubled as overflow from the men’s ward. An empty, but still unmade, bed had just been pushed out.
We were three Dutch doctors working here in Serowe, Botswana: Eric, Willem, and me. All three of us were young, at the start of our careers, with our families in tow. Eric had been on call over the weekend, and after finishing his formal handover he added:
“That bed was for János Kovács. Maybe you’ve seen him in the private clinic? He owned the Hard Liquor Store.”

Neither Willem nor I had treated him, though we both knew the name.
János was a Hungarian refugee who had fled to South Africa in the 1960s, later settling in Botswana. In Serowe he built a successful liquor business — and drank much of his own stock. The drinking cost him his marriage and his children. Eventually he remarried, a Filipino woman who seemed to steady him, even persuading him to see doctors about his health.

Eric continued: “A year ago he came to me with hematemesis. We tried antacids, but within months he worsened. In Gaborone they diagnosed metastatic gastric cancer. No curative options.”

János and his wife were devastated. Yet she was undeterred:
“In the Philippines, doctors can remove any tumour without scar, without anesthesia, without pain.”

Despite Eric’s doubts, they flew. When they returned, János looked transformed — heavier, cheerful, sober, enjoying the start of retirement.

Unfortunately, some months later, his health began to deteriorate again. This time he was too weak to make the journey back to the Philippines. Instead, his wife arranged for the wonder doctor himself to come to Botswana. He flew via Johannesburg, arrived in Gaborone, and was brought on to Serowe, where he supposedly “re-operated” on János.
For a short while, the optimism returned.

But last Saturday, Eric got a call from János’s housekeeper. She said he had been vomiting blood, and though he resisted hospital care, she had arranged for the ambulance to fetch him. He refused to go to the general ward, so a bed was placed in our doctors’ room. He received two units of blood, but died later that day.

When Eric asked about his wife and the wonder doctor, the housekeeper explained that they had already flown back to the Philippines the previous weekend. “There was talk of a new romance,” she whispered. She had been the one by his side as he slipped away.

Willem shook his head. “No wonder,” he said — proof, once again, that doctors everywhere share the same dark humor.