Do a short analytical essay on the worries of an African-born lady

Do a short analytical essay on the worries of an African-born lady

By the time my turn to see the doctor came, my complaint seemed so trivial in comparison with the ills of age and worry and penury that I had doubts about presenting it al tall. I want an anlaysis essay. Reason told me, however, that I must do so, and I did. The women in white
showed me into the surgery: Dr Moffat was a harassed, keen-looking young man, with
pale ginger receding hair. I felt sorry for him: he must have had a more unpleasant hour
and a quarter than I had had. He told me to sit down and asked me what he could do for
me, and I said that I thought I was pregnant, and he said how long had I been married,
and I said that I was not married. It was quite simple. He shook his head, more in sorrow
than in anger, and said did my parents know. I said yes, thinking it would be easier to say
yes, and not wishing to embark on explaining about their being in Africa. He said were
they sympathetic, and I smiled my bright, meaningless smile and said Fairly. Then we
worked out dates and he said it would be due in March. Then he said he would try get me
a hospital bed, though I must understand there was a great shortage, and this and that,
and had he got my address. I gave it, and he said was I living with my family and I said
No, alone. He said did in know about the Unmarried Mothers people in Kentish Town,
and I said Yes. They were very nice and very helpful about adoption and things, he said.
Then he said t hat he would let me know about the hospital bed, and would I come back
in a fortnight. And that was that.

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