From prefix to suffix

Doctor's day, July 1, 2013

This year, I passed my final MBBS exam and was given the right to be addressed Dr. Ninad Maniar, albeit provisionally. I have since, begun my internship and had some memorable experiences to say the least. Today, the idea of a day dedicated to doctors has me in a reflective mood. 

To start off, why is there a special day for doctors? I mean, I know that we are healers and all that, but isn't it really just our job? I never really got the point of facebook posts glorifying the sacrifices we make to serve those in need. We do it for ourselves, so I am thinking of some explanation as to why it feels special to be a doctor.

As an intern, you are a grunt, a class 5 level worker if there were such a thing. So it’s no surprise that you aren’t in the best mood when you wake up early in the morning to go to the ward or OPD to be shouted at by your resident. One such day, I was in my ward, going about my business, jabbing patients with needles, comforting some, telling others to cut down the drama, when a patients relative came running up to me and said “Doctor Jaldi aao!”. This wrinkly old man’s 27 year-old son was seizing and spitting up blood. To the hospital-naive farmer, this was understandably quite a horrific sight and I promptly went to his bedside, and in no time the seizure stopped. As is common in patients who have seizures, his son was semi conscious immediately after. So I told him the senior doctor would be in to see him soon. You see, these situations have to be handled rather delicately because you never know when you will be at the receiving end of a slap or punch if your patient takes a turn for the worse. Even so, there was no senior doctor to be seen and I went to check on him again and this time he had very noisy breathing, what us medicos would call stridor, so I asked the Nurse to call the senior and ask what should be done next, because interns are not supposed to make management plans. What was happening to this patient was that his floppy and now swollen tongue(he had a tongue bite which explained the blood spitting) was falling back and obstructing his windpipe. Per the senior’s orders, an intravenous anti-convulsant was given and he had asked for an oral airway to be inserted. Now I had never done but I had seen one being put in by an anesthetist and heard about it in a lecture. So I proceeded as such and managed to do it satisfactorily. His breath sounds were clear and I was relieved but I threw in a shoulder roll just for good measure (this was not a trauma patient, in case some of you are raising eyebrows).

The patient’s father now visibly crying was demanding why no one had been in to see his son yet and I told him that his son’s seizure had stopped and with the airway in, his breathing was better. So I went back to making labels and in 10 or so minutes he rushed to me saying that his son was vomiting. Now this would’ve been REALLY bad cause if the vomitus entered the guy’s lungs, he would have won free ride to the ICU and possibly further up. So I ran, and was very pleasantly surprised to see the patient simply gagging on the airway indicating that he had regained consciousness enough to continue breathing. I asked him his name and where he was, both questions returned appropriate replies and I was at peace. The father was relieved too but curious for an explanation to the seizure. I impatiently deferred that to my senior and proceeded with needle jabbing.

Now, I am not sure if my management of this patient was ideal, but I felt proud and I felt satisfied that I had recognized the stridor and inserted the airway correctly. I am saying this, not to boast, but to express that feeling of joy at maybe having saved this guy’s life or at least life style by preventing a hypoxic brain insult. Maybe he would’ve been fine just as is, but I didn’t think so, so I acted on it. At that time I did not remember my sleepless nights or missed outings as an undergrad, I thought – and I can’t say this in a way that won’t make you roll you eyes – how lucky I was to be able to make a difference. This among other experiences , one where I uncovered that a depressed patient was a victim of sexual abuse, where a terminal 23 year-old thanked me for a painless iv, these bittersweet moments, they make you grow, make you a touch harder but leave you with something special.

I am typing 800 word prose at 4 am after having studied microbiology. WHY? because I want an MD or an MS but I also want to do the things I want to. It never really ends, Dr, then MD then DM or FACP or whatever. But if you can be even a half-doctor as an intern, imagine what it must feel like to be a grown-up doctor.

So what’s my point? Maybe we are special, in a way that cannot be described eloquently in a blog post. But just maybe we deserve a special day, to think about the good we did and how much more there really needs to be done and is in our hands.

P.S – my dad’s a paediatrician and I am hoping for some exciting gifts.

Dr. Doo(M.D)

Dr.  Doo(M.D.)

Till almost a year back, when an aspiring teenager would ask me whether he/she should pursue a medical career, I would encourage them. I would tell them about how it didn’t matter that it was long road, or whether you had to work hard, as long as you were happy in life. But as I am now advancing towards finish line that is graduation (seems a tad dramatic, it isn’t), I’m beginning to reconsider this piece of ‘wisdom’ I’ve passed on. So, this is a rather bitter post and I recommend optimists to look away now.

I am not a doctor yet. But I will be soon enough (in a manner of speaking) and I sure have spent the greater part of my life around them. So, I know a fair bit about what it’s like being a doctor. It starts off with you being a student and, well, that part never ends, but you get a degree at some point.

As a student of Seth G.S. Medical College and KEM Hospital, a certain legacy has been handed down to me; a legacy of brilliance, arrogance and of achievement, one that I am very proud of. Sadly, though, achievement seems to be defined by what the government have decided for me. I say government because one, I don’t know the names of each of those sub-committees and frankly, just pointing the blame on that one person who is in the spotlight right now would be churlish. They have a dream, that the most clever, hardworking students will serve the most underdeveloped areas and want nothing in return, for, they are in fact, idiots.

Now, we all know that that is not going to happen. We also know that talking about it on a blog is not going to make a rat’s poop of a difference. But, venting is therapeutic; talking, reading or writing. I am going to dive in with a comparison across specialties. The reason, we are supposed to serve villages is because our education is expensive for the government and we pay peanuts for it. Fair enough, but then again so is education at any government college for a B.E, B.Com, B.A. or B.whatever. So why must we and we alone go to hell while the rest stick around in cities if they so wish? Is there no need for water supply, electricity, education, financial management in villages? Why then are the non-medical professionals not forced to SERVE? So we signed a bond of Rs. 10 lakh, not like we had an option, but we did.

If that was not enough, now the govt want us to come back after post graduation if we go abroad for masters? I mean come on, they are just piling the odds against us instead of improving facilities at your villages. And if I don’t want to work at a village or if I want a better education, then that is my prerogative, my right. Still, try a heavier paycheck and the rural yield will improve. So cheap no? Doctors, bhagwan ke bande, want money. God forbid, they want a life or a family or both. So singularly, doctors.

If this is the rural scene, the scene in aanchi Mumbai is not fantastic. Doctors are so overworked in their residency that they have no time for sleep let alone recreation. If the govt is boasting about the awesome free education it is providing, I would like to take them for a walking tour of the lives of residents in one of the nation’s premier medical institutes. When they see them suffering from infectious diseases due to the lack of personal protective equipment or lack of sanitary facilities, I would like to think it would stir them a little, but of course I know that it wont.

There is no end to this tale. I love this quote by Mahatma Gandhi “ Be the change you want to see i people”. But I am far too cynical to try. For now, I ll just go with flow and hope for the best. This is not a pity party and I hope that if you are a medico, you found something to relate to and if you aren’t then you might contact me to make a documentary.

GOSUMAG !

Another Gosumag meeting has passed. (henceforward gosumag = G ). Some not-so-promising numbers and tsunamis of brainwaves later, we emerge, not victorious and not entirely happy with ourselves either. But after 2 hours after listening to the possibility of an abdominal lump ruining your future in medicine, you know that hope is what will get you through the day. So this post is going to be a tad different, almost optimistic dare I say?

So let me put some basic information out there. The theme for 2011 is ' colours of life'. I am creative editor and the exhaustive list of co-editors of all sections can be found at ... well you'll just have to wait for the prints.
Here's what i like about being a part of the G team:

1) Words with their infinite complexity can coax a versatile mind into submission with mundane lucidity. If i were start talking like this, please shoot me in the head and pat yourself on the back for it. While i just constructed this sentence and I do sincerely find it beautiful, I think this barely makes for a reasonable commode magazine read. So, my vision for G is to create something amazing using something simple, something refreshing ( it's a challenge, believe you me). I know I could've skipped to last sentence directly but i mean really blogging is more or less rambling.

2) So far, everyone is working together well. This makes it great to be holed up in the gymkhana even though your belly's growling. The sheer volume of ideas, agreements and disagreements is enough to make your head spin. This,I think makes me happy to be the creative editor.

3) I've never really asked for funds and frankly, I'm not too thrilled about it either, but I've added this line to the appeal letter and I'll say it again- ideas are only so good and executable as the money that's backing them. So you do what you gotta do and hope that in the end you'll learn something from it.

4) I like doing research and the fact that i get to do that without fear deadlines, superiors or any expectation at all really is a good feeling. The formal feedback was i think a G first and the analysis was endless fun (and i got some clicks to prove it).

5) Photos. I was gonna say I love them but then really who doesn't like photos? Banking very heavily on these to turn out well and hopefully tell the tale of out theme seamlessly. Colours of life- reminds me of a cool blue sea ablaze with golden flames cocooned in which i find a human form with red eyes and and hopeful smile revealing yellowing teeth that part to not to beg for salvation but to welcome to the stage that is life. Forgive the drama and if i ever manage to translate this image onto paper i might leave medicine as a career. But i am hoping that with some help from SLR-clad peers, seniors and juniors and Photoshop almighty we will eliver in the photo arena.

6) My last and probably the most important reason is that it's a reprieve from everyday life. I mean, where else do you get put all that buzz inside your head aside and voice all that random stuff-some good some plain bonkers- to a roomful of people who are only listening to you because you make sense or else their own mind has wandered off to savoury vada-pav. I'd like to think of it as my own special reverse-muffliato in some way! There- the JK Rowling lover in me has spoken, and rightly so, it's samadhi time for him this friday.

BB / W

Just as i feared, i stopped publishing after day 2 of the blogging adventure.
Anyway i'm going to write about Whatsapp and BB.
Blackberry, once, essentially the domain of suit-clad gentlemen, has become the quintessential girl next door's best bud, another BB as you may have it. With the arrival of the BBM services in India, the hue and cry about security notwithstanding, it became an instant hit with the "YOUTH" (a term i find rather hard to define nowadays). With a slightly unequal sex ratio, unlimited anything and qwerty(this is a fun word to type!) keypad, BB is here to rule. So what makes this 'phenomenon' such a 'phenomenon'? well i think it's the idea that connectivity is the instant solution to boredom, and it really is if you think about it. I mean isn't that pretty much how FB, twitter, orkut have made their mark?
If i were to gauge the popularity of this thing i could give you this example: out of my circle of 5 close friends, 4 have one. I am still a loyal dog for NOKIA. Why else do you think they are selling handsets in 4 digit figures now? Even seems to defy the whole dikhta hai wo bikta hai theorem, cause it's no looker if you ask me. So sensing thi rather imminent threat, symbian and iOS developed a 'moo tod jawab' in the form of Whatsapp .Since Whatsapp couldn't come up woith a cool catchy nickname, i am going to call it W. With this one i have a lil more first hand experience. Basically this is as crude as MSN chat from the early 21st century, except for the fact that it's for cell phones and doesn' t have emoticons.
My friends tell me i should get a BB and i tell them i have W but i only use on my home wi-fi netwwork so it's not the same i know. Why don't i get one? because in the hoopla of getting this cool messenger, ppl seem to have forgotten that the cell-phone in 2011 has a lot more than ' Hi whats up- nothing much, u say'. I for one am perfectly happy with my N8 (the merits of which i won't bore you with). I'm not critical of BB or W (better still when they're put together) , my point is only that when you do meet that someone you took the time out to meet, Flash a real smile or a hug rather that your oh-so-cute emo.

Of books and eyes, both red and dry

As the RRDD-reading room and debate department- secretary i finally decided to get around to buying some books to stock the library and well quite frankly put my gymkhana inheritance to good use. To begin with I found the appropriate company my senior and predecessor to the highly coveted (yeah right!) RRDD post, Neerja Tillu. An enjoyable cab ride later we found ourselves at the Strand book stall. Now, i've been out of the reading scene for a long time now and entering this treasure trove of books seemed oddly like jumping into the deep end of a swimming pool after a long dry hiatus. But once i was inside, i was felt excited, like proper saliva-drooling-starry-eyed excited, and Neerja and i split  in order to take over the shelves in some sort of Blitzkreig strategy. I found some of the titles i had on my list and many more which weren't. We uninhibitedly bought 9 editions of Tintin, a book on wikileaks and Aruna's story among others. 

 

Once the shopping was done we had to wait for my friend Aditya to show up and wait we did. With a little help form Gujarati and local vendors we found this quaint little bakery called yazdaani bakery or something. We were soon joined by Aditya and together the three of us relished some rather hearty 'brun maska' , 'mawa cake' and tea. That's the thing, you see, about these unassuming places, they serve you good food and don't make a fancy fuss about it. After much insistence, Neerja ended up treating us and setting the bar high for all us seniors not monetarily maybe, but for the discovery and gesture.

Realising we were running late for our newly-joined ophthalmology classes, Aditya and i made a dash for Churchgate station and caught a slow train to borivli. Regrettably we underestimated just how big this 'city of dreams' is, I'll tell you this for sure, had it not been for company i could've caught a dream or two on this stretched out commute. Anyway we reached late and as lady luck-that ugly little wretch- would have it, we could not find a bleeding auto. Several frantic attempts later though we reached the basement of this doctors house and snapped into auto-focus mode. I found it terribly difficult to ay any attention to this middle-aged man's banter and immediately resorted to blessed vodafone unlimited messaging scheme. At the end of the class though, i got a rather mixed reaction about the lecture but left that place soon as i could.

Back at Borivli staion we ran like a bunch of maniacs towards a train that sat a still as a ruminating cow. With the running came laughter and then some. We reached back home in one piece, one piece plus a shawrma and here I am blogging away as Aditya's glued to another one of the many many premier leagues.....this blog stuff is actually turning out to be pretty fun!

The first few steps

Hi!
This blog thing, I've been meaning to get to it for a while and I haven't read too many of them yet but I am pretty sure this must be a fairly mundane virgin post. My idea of blogging has essentially been limited to people sharing their day and life events online for others to read and that good bloggers make even the beaten to death stories sound interesting. So here's some of the stuff that happened today.

Just another day, run-off-the-mill postings lecture blah blah snooze snooze. So jumping ahead to the time I left from college- I was walking with my headphones on with 'beautiful' by Eminem (which by the way has been a rather pleasant reintroduction to Rap after half a decade), and i reached the foot of the rickety-at-best railway bridge. I was about to merge with the people-river as i like to think of it on the pavement when I saw this man waving at me. Not an ordinary man by any standard rather a dishevelled limp man in one of those hand-steered three-wheeled chairs. I know what you're thinking "ohhh it's one of those lets help the specially abled and pat ourselves on the shoulder type of stories again" but I think its just a little different. So anyway i walked over to the man and asked him what the matter was. He made a very non-discreet gesture pointing ahead. You see, ordinarily this man must make his way around town on his ride but with the elevation that is Elphinstone bridge I am sure his poorly nourished arms must have betrayed him.

Then I did the thing i regret the most, I instinctively asked him how far he wanted to go, and received another rather uninformative finger pointing forwards. As I pushed the wheelie, the first few steps were a 'falooda' of emotions (cocktails in contrast i think have fewer ingredients), guilt for the question about distance, fear for the vehicles zooming by, pride in telling myself what a great guy I was, and then some more guilt for the pride. As we moved on I realised that it wasn't too much effort at all, he was hand-cycling the chain as well. I caught many-an-eye staring at me and felt my chest inflate a little only soon to be deflated by the shadow of  BEST bus lurking around us. But the driver, a gentleman as he was, did not honk even once, waited patiently till the road was wide enough for him to pass. Eventually the part of the station where i entered arrived and i asked the man whether he would be able to handle the downhill journey by himself to which he nodded and proceeded with his not-so-unusual day.

 I on the other hand had a major epiphany as i jumped over the bolted iron wall-ish divider that separates the station from the road. I thought to myself "you know Ninad, unselfish good deeds do not exist but what the hell right? you helped him. You felt good about it. So did he." Moral of the story, do-gooders are overrated, benevolence is not. Life as I would like to be profound and call  it is in the words of a certain music artist very 'like the naked leads the blind'. My friends say i analyze things too much, but at the end of this particular analysis I am happy to think that hopefully the people that saw me, or the kindness on the part of the bus driver will maybe tip the balance in the favour of the world being not such a mean place after all. So what if a couple of self-righteous losers blew their own trumpets about it?

So there you have it, my first few steps in the world of blogging. Kindly ignore the i's which should  have been  in upper case- i hate the shift key. other than that comments will be deeply appreciated.