True stories - Faith

True stories - Faith

I first saw the baba for the first time in private ward. Quite unlike the typical rich flamboyant private ward patients, was my first thought. Looks easily above 70, thin frail and disheveled, but something special about the look in his eyes. Must be a farmer from Punjab with acres and acres of land, I became judgemental and assumed. He was waiting for my favourite SR Dr. A, with some bills in his hand to sign. Adi, my co - JR, in charge of the babas patient, came by. Baba politely asked him, his sons platelet count of the day. There was utter glee in the old frail mans eyes which lit up like sunrise when he heard that the platelet count has risen, although marginally. Dr. A soon followed Adi and the baba greeted him with utmost respect. A looked a little embarrassed when he returned such a overwhelming welcome and immediately tended to the old man and signed his bills. He old man confirmed that his son does not require transfusions that day and hurried off to submit the bills. 

"Who is the old man, what does his patient have?" I asked Dr. A once the old man was out of earshot. "Oh, him. He is a retired fauji. His only child, his son, has AML at the age of 28, which you know has a bad prognosis. The baba was shattered with the news and is penniless per se but because he is retired from army, he will get his bills reimbursed. I have given him confidence that we can go ahead with the only option his son has ie. Bone Marrow Transplant, after his induction Chemotherapy. The son, is admitted for his induction chemo now." 

Dr. A continued, 

"Baba is worried about only 3 things in his life now. His daily bill signing, his sons hemoglobin and platelet count and his sons fever. Baba is the only person to run for arranging the blood, buying all the medicines and transfusions sets syringes gloves etc. but baba never complains. Even after all that we told about his sons illness and his chances, baba refuses to relent. And it's not the denial. He has that look in his eyes, that determinant spark which refuses to give up his son when there's something left for him to do, whatever that might be, however running around it might involve. I have never seen such a understanding, non complaining, obedient patient and dad with such kind of belief. I will never let him die under my care. Not when I am around. " Dr A's last few words took me aback, I dint expect such strong words from somebody who keeps saying "everybody dies". But I came to understand why A said so, in the weeks to come. The baba was the most gentle soul alive. His bills and his eagerness for his sons Hb and platelet count became a loving routine for all of us. He was polite to all, never irritated or frustrated, always understanding whatever we told him and always anxious to find out what next he can do to help his son out. The patient himself was jovial and totally understanding of his fathers effort and sacrifice. Everyone from the consultants to the nursing staff liked the baba and we all wished and prayed for his sons speedy recovery. The guy got better and got shifted for his BMT

Six months later I see the baba at the Hemetology OPD. " How are you, baba", I ran and held his hand and asked in excitement. I stopped myself from asking the obvious, because you never know in Hemetology and you expect the worst. But the baba beamed, "my sons alright Dr. Saab," and turned and pointed. No wonder I didn't recognise him. The lad had out on weight, had changed in appearance and looked a healthy young adult. We shook hands and I followed them into Dr. A's room. Baba still had a stack of bills which Dr. A had to sign. Dr. A told me about the transplantation details and how babas determination was essential in getting the complicated procedure done without much difficulty. Baba always prayed, arranged everything that we asked for, and never let the fire die from his eye. The young lad, danced the Bhangra for the sisters at the BMT and left in full health, no complications yet. There was a sense of victory in Dr. A's voice, and I remembered his vow. As if reading my mind, A told," This is not my achievement. Whatever the guy is now, is the sole responsibility of the baba and his resolute attitude. "

Today after two long years, I met the baba at the Opd. I again ran to him and grabbed his hand, but this time I knew something was wrong. Babas eyes told the whole story. No energy, no sunrise. Red and puffy eyes full of darkness. I said sorry even before he said anything. "It was GVHD", baba said referring to the late complication that took his son away. "Dr. YU took very good care of us as Dr. A had completed his course and gone away. I am waiting for Dr. YU to sign some bills.", baba said. 

I was shattered. I remembered all the effort the whole team had put in, to pull him out. Adi's running around, Dr. A's passionate vow, the BMT staffs effort. After everything, it felt as if it all had gone in vain. The old frail fauji baba still ended up losing his only child, his son, after giving everything, including his life, in exchange for it. I just couldn't stand to see the old baba standing there, the omnipresent bills in his hand, one last time. I came to realise that through the baba and Dr A, I came to believe, at least partly, in the subject and science that I practised. I had believed in the power of human effort and determination, in humanity and the eternal heights love can achieve, through their effort. Shattered. Feeling totally shattered. I just went inside the room and sat there staring the wall.

Dr. YU came in, saw the baba and took him by both his arms and brought him inside the OPD room. He was as sympathetic as anyone can be. Baba explained how the last bill from PGI was lost in the confusion of the death and accounts people refused to provide a duplicate. Dr. YU' s eyes glared in anger, he jumped up, asked the baba to follow him, left in the midst of the extremely crowded Monday AHC, not even bothering to inform his consultant, stormed into the accounts section and blasted everyone there. He threatened litigations and written complaints if the baba did not get the duplicate by the end of the day. He was literally shaking that nobody dared refused him anything. I pulled Dr. YU back to his OPD room, but he was still fuming, mumbling angrily. Baba came back within an hour with a duplicate bill and Dr. YU readily signed it. Baba mumbled a thanks and left the Opd, not before giving us a one last smile. 

I thanked the baba and Dr. A for making me believe in the ultimate power of human effort and humanity. I also said my thank you to Dr. YU for restoring that faith. 

I stared at the old fauji baba till he turned out of my sight, gait slow but steady, back straight, right hand still clutching some bills along with a form titled, "Last and final settlement".