My hopes were rekindled when I heard a doctor on the radio talking about a surgical procedure which involved the cutting of some of the nerves that lead from the rest of the body to the brain. The operation was simple, although there were some secondary effects that could make the illness worse. There were also cases of a few deaths, causes for which were difficult to pin down. Nevertheless, I was ready to take any risk, even the risk of death. I immediately called my GP and told him I wanted a referral to the neurosurgical department. I waited for weeks until I met a surgeon, an Iranian man in his fifties, with a quiet, friendly demeanour. When he heard that I was
comingfrom Bosnia, his face beamed.
“So you have fled the war?
“Yes, doctor. If I had stayed, I would have certainly been killed.”
“Now when I see you, I remember how I fled Iran during the war with Iraq. If I had
stayed, I would never have come out of the war alive. Do you have family here?”
I told him I was alone, and he shook his head. “To be lonely in this country is not
good. Loneliness kills people; it makes them both mentally and physically sick.”
I explained to him how I had suffered, and that I had even thought of taking my own life. I was prepared to take any risk to get rid of this plight. He held the tips of his fingers together in front of him and nodded in silence. In the end he said, “So, boy you want to go and dance. I’d be more than pleased to help you to live a normal life.”
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