The Stranger in 3B
The sharp scent of disinfectant mingled with the muted beeping of monitors as Ravi approached Room 3B. He paused at the door, his hand on the cool metal handle, and deeply breathed. This was always the most challenging part of his rounds.
“Hello! How are you doing today?” Ravi’s voice was warm and practiced as he stepped into the room.
Radha turned her head towards the door, her eyes brightening at the sight of the doctor. Ravi, the chief doctor at the hospital, wore his usual kind expression, but there was always a flicker of something else when he entered Room 3B — a mixture of love and sorrow that he quickly masked.
“I am doing well,” Radha said, sitting in bed. She adjusted her saree with habitual grace, then glanced at the mirror to smooth her silver hair. It was a familiar gesture to Ravi, echoing countless mornings from his childhood.
Ravi checked the monitors and made notes while aware of Radha’s eyes following him. “Somebody seems to be in a good mood today!” she observed, tilting her head.
Adjusting his stethoscope, Ravi smiled. “It’s just one of those days when I woke up thinking about my childhood, especially my mom.”
As Ravi shared stories about his mother — stories about Radha herself — he watched her face carefully. Sometimes, there was a flicker of recognition, a ghost of a memory passing behind her eyes. But today, she listened with polite interest, as if hearing about a stranger’s life.
Ravi was about to launch into another story when a soft knock interrupted them. His wife Laura stood at the door, a gentle reminder of the world outside this room.
“Dr. Krishnan,” she said, using his title as they always did in the hospital, “your next patient is ready.”
Ravi nodded, standing up. “Alright! Enough for today, or I may lose my job!” he joked, and Radha laughed.
As he left the room, he handed his notes to Laura, who glanced at them:
Patient Name — Radha Krishnan
Caretaker — Ravi Krishnan
Relationship — Son
Condition — Alzheimer’s, Late Stage
Room — 3B
Laura squeezed his hand briefly, a gesture of support. Ravi took a moment to collect himself, then straightened his white coat. There were other patients to see, other lives to care for. However, a part of him would always remain in Room 3B, with the woman who was both a stranger and the most familiar person in his world.