True stories - Diwali

True stories - Diwali

This happened during rounds today.

Consultant to patient - I am glad you made good progress in the last week. We can discharge you today so that you can celebrate Diwali with your family. 

Patient - Sir, if possible I would like to stay in the ward during Diwali. Can u discharge me day after tomorrow??

Consultant <surprised> - Why would you want to stay in hospital on Diwali day. Don't you want to go home??

Patient <lowering his voice> - Sir as you know, I have not being working for 2 weeks now. If I am discharged today, my family would starve tomorrow on Diwali day. But If I stay here, tomorrow at least I can feed my kids the Diwali special hospital food that they give out for the patients. 

The consultant was too stunned to say anything. He felt his throat going dry, voice getting hoarse. "Sure, we will discharge you on Monday", he managed somehow, before turning away and leaving the ward. 

There was an awkward silence, and the residents walked behind the consultant saying nothing. Before leaving, the consultant took out his purse, grabbed some money and gave it to his SR without counting. "Buy some sweets for all the patients tomorrow, please.", he told before walking away.

As he was walking to his car his mobile beeped. The gifts for the family that he had ordered from Flipkart, Amazon and Myntra had been delivered.

Happy Diwali to all.

True stories - Inspiration

True stories - Inspiration

Every 6 months, among the new residents in Medicine, there are the "runners". These are the guys who are shocked by the amount of work that a first year medicine resident is expected to do, that they quit or move on to lighter specialties. They can't be blamed either, u know. These are probably guys who topped every exam in their life and were probably the only ones to crack the tough entrance exam from their states, that their egos would be dancing among the stars. Such inflated egos can never comprehend the fact that they are expected to pull trolleys, collect reports, arrange files, beg for ct scan dates and what not. 

Hence it was no surprise when our new first year JR dint turn up for blood sampling one fine morning. He messaged, "I can't work among these people" and bunked. He was a prodigy from the apex institute in India, had cracked PGI without batting an eyelid and hence, expected to be treated like a king. One rounds in the morning by the Professor J and a grueling evening rounds by his SR painfully made him realize that, at this point, neither he is efficient in his work, nor does he know the head and tail of medicine. We thought he was gone forever, but somehow he decided to give it all a try again. He returned the next day and started working. When his SR was about to reprimand him, Professor S intervened. He told the SR in private, "Look beta, we have all felt like running away, all of us, you and me. Although bunking without informing is ethically wrong, since he decided to give it a try once again, lets act mature and appreciate his spirit to fight." Turning to the JR, Prof S told, "I'm glad that you are back beta, let me tell you a story.

" Around 35 years back when I was doing my senior residency in this very same unit in this ward, my JR came to me one day and announced he is quitting. He had already prepared his letter and booked his train. I was surprised as he seemed a nice guy who was interested in the subject, so I tried to sort out what his problem was. It turned out that, all his troubles were because both his senior residents were allotting him work at the same time. Trying to do everything, he ended up doing neither of the sr's work and was getting scolded everyday. He actually took it upon himself thinking that he was not efficient enough  to continue here. Me and my co-sr sorted out his problem by giving him a combined list of things to do and just that simple step sorted out his problem. He became efficient and showed amazing interest in the subject. He completed his MD, did some period of senior residency, did his DM here itself, as well as some foreign training and went to be an amazing physician. Since he was a very good person by heart, he couldn't ignore the poor, downtrodden and sick in this country and thus got active in social work, in between his busy practice. Last year he was awarded the Padma Shri by the President of India. I was real proud at that moment, because I realized that one small step I took, one moment I spent just listening to somebody, had made a difference. Not just to that resident's life but to thousands of people, patients, their families, and a lot of unfortunate people in this country. 

One can never gauge the potential of a person and the heights a person can reach by a small amount of inspiration at the right time." Professor S concluded, before continuing with his morning rounds.

Good teachers share all they know, they instruct. 

The amazing ones, inspire.

Happy teachers day

True stories - Strength

True stories - Strength

Muthassiamma lived till 96 and moved on last year. What a wonderful wonderful life. No major health issues except for bad knees and poor hearing. Never said a bad word or spread an ill news about anybody. Never scolded any of her 10 kids or 21 grandchildren, not even once, ever. Such a perfect example of virtue, patience calmness and inner peace. Everybody broke down with my dads big brother said "Kandu mathiyayilla"( I want to see her again and again, I have not seen enough of her) before they covered her body one last time. Muthassiamma has gone into the ashes of Thekke Kandam. She lives on, in the hearts of people whom she loved and who loved her. My obituary for her is a story that I heard my dad narrating.

My dad once had a problem with the health minister during his glorious unblemished and achievement studded career. Dad stood for what was right, instead of what was politically RIGHT, to the extent that he had to complain about his minister to the judiciary. The letter he wrote was somehow leaked to the press and all pandemonium began. 

Those were bad days for him, with media frenzy and all, which culminated in the minister resigning and dad being reinstated. Truth won and justice was done in the end, but he was mentally very shaken, to the extent that even my mom couldn't console him.

In the midst of all the frenzy, Dad went to his native place to visit his mom and his brothers, his usual second-Saturday-of-every-month unbroken routine since more than a quarter of a century. He never mentioned anything about his mental turmoil or sadness. Somehow his mother, my Muthassiamma, sensing everything, called him near her and told. "Do not fear anything or anyone. Stand straight for what you think is right. Even if you lose your job. Why do even care, you are an intelligent & educated doctor, you can survive with a pen and a few pieces of paper."

My dad recalled the incident at a later date. When he said about it, his voice cracked. "My amma, mother of 10 children, not formally educated, aged 85, who always stayed behind achan (dad) in the background, never offering an opinion, came forward and said the most sensible thing that could have been said to me at that time, instilling in me confidence about the righteousness of what I am doing, showing her support in my knowledge, my abilities and my patient care. 

After all this while, she said the most amazing words when it was needed the most, and from that day onwards I have not feared anything in my life, ever. Amma did not offer her shoulder to lean on, she made leaning unnecessary.", 

my dad concluded, tears dwelling up in not just his eyes, but in all of ours too.

Motherhood is the place where love begins and ends. 

Happy Mother's Day.

True stories - Lesson

True stories - Lesson

He was totally aghast, he felt numb and his insides burned. He wished he could scream out loud or just run away to escape from it all. One of his first patients in his dream Hematology course, the young guy who had improved so much in front of his eyes, was leaving the ward. He had relapsed and relapsed in a bad way, so bad that it was impossible to treat him further. The family, already heavily in debt, had to be counselled to take him home for palliative care, to which after much deliberation, they agreed. 

The patient M, the 19 yr old, did not know about his death sentence. The resident stood against the wall as his cousin brothers rolled M out on a wheel chair. As M was approaching, flashes of memories flooded the residents mind. 

-  The first week when M arrived, when M was not in his full sensorium, when he used to pat M's hand and tell out loud (more to himself than to anyone else) that M is going to be alright. 

- After M improved, how M had asked whether he will ever be able to play 'Kabbadi' with his bros again. And he had told M, that not only will he be able to play Kabbadi, that he himself will travel down to Ms village to watch him play. The ear to ear grin of M was still fresh in the residents mind.

- How, one day when he came for rounds, he heard Punjabi folk song being played out loud. M was enjoying the music terribly that he asked what sort of music is this. M replied, 'Chamkila...I love Chamkila' and everybody laughed. He had to Google the word to find out that it was the name of the Music director. From then on he began addressing M as Chamki....and M was visibly embarrassed at the fun being made of him. 

M smiled and waved as he passed the resident on his wheelchair. The resident waved back. Just before he turned the corner, M shouted, "Don't forget to come to the Kabbadi tournament 2 weeks from now, OK? I will be participating."  The resident did not know what to say, he just nodded. He leaned back on the wall and closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the tears. 

"Hey....", a soft voice, startled him. "You alright??" The resident was surprised to see his head of the dept, Prof S, standing near him. 'When did sir come here, how come I didn't notice!!', a visibly embarrassed resident thought. "Sorry sir, I was just a little disappointed at what happened to M.", the resident told as he tried to scramble back to work.

" Relax Beta," Prof. S told, his hand on the residents shoulder, "let me tell you a story".

"Around 30 years back, a elderly Sardar brought his only son to me. I was just starting to get interested in Hematology and this guy had an Acute Leukemia. Since the treatments of that form of Leuk were in experimental stages then, I knew that the patient was not going to survive. I called the old man to one side and in private told him that his only son was going to die. And there is no point in spending all the money that he had on the kid. "How many years does my son have?", the old man asked. I shook my head, "Months", I replied, "Not years". The man was shattered, had a denial and anger phase and finally came to the acceptance phase. "Pls give my son the best treatment possible, I understand what you said and I'll never have unrealistic expectations from you people.", the baba told. We gave him whatever we had in our hands at that point, and somehow the miracle happened and the guy responded. Remarkably. He somehow tolerated all the chemo and after around 9 months we could not find any trace of cancer in his body. 2 weeks after the son was declared cured, the baba died peacefully in his sleep, possibly an MI. The son took 2 years of maintenance and still comes to see me with his own kids, twice an year. "

"The guy whom I predicted had months to live, still comes to see me after 30 years and his dad, who was a healthy hardworking Sardar with no diabetes or hypertension had a heart attack within one year. I stopped taking the statistics part of medicine to heart from that day onwards, they just predict and predictions aren't always true. For a particular patient you do not get to judge or be God based on these statistics, they r just soft pointers.

Do u really believe whatever that u do or don't do or can't do is responsible for what happens to  the patient??

The day u start believing that you are actually the Tool and not the Hand that controls the tool, that day, u will start believing in what you do. You become mature and you find your peace. ""

Prof S ended his story, patted his resident again on the shoulder and walked away. 

The resident found a strange happiness inside him from that day onwards. Maybe it was because he had found the purpose of his life. 

The purpose of life was to serve and the joy of life was in giving.

 Nothing else mattered.

E

True stories - soulmate

True stories - soulmate

I have never missed Oppol, never when she went to Coimbatore for her MBA, never when she went to work in Chennai, and not even once when she moved to Mumbai post marriage.

Maybe it was because she was always there, a call or an sms away, always ready to respond and to be there for you,

But I think it was more so because, I've never felt me and Oppol as two different people.

There is only one soul that we both share.

Happy birthday dearest.

True stories - Memories

True stories - Memories

S was nicknamed by her colleagues in her ward as the "tube light". The name was partly deserved, because she did have spells of confusion and disoriented speech. And apparently as a nursing staff personnel, you were never supposed to have those. The residents who  were perennially in the ward, never missed her small mistakes and soon the name got popular. It did not help that she was cute, as people used the opportunity to pull her leg, hit on her, get friendly with her etc. She did not really mind it, but rarely it did get to her. And she doubted really whether she was inferior to others and unfit for her job. 

It was another such day, when S missed something at work. Although it was a trivial oversight, because of her reputation, her colleagues created a hungama, and she was again the laughing stock. So she purposefully missed her tea break and volunteered to stay back, managing the ward while the others had tea. 

It was then the old lady walked in. S was sure she had seen her somewhere, but just couldn't place where. She was smiling broadly and came near her. "What can I do for you, Mata?", S asked? The lady just kept on smiling, without replying anything, gaze shifting to all directions, as if searching for something. She went inside the nursing station and sat inside. S got perplexed. Something was wrong. This lady didn't look like she had any clue where she was, although she was smiling. "Who do you want to see, how can I help you??, S persisted. The lady just kept smiling and looking here and there, confused but smiling. S got both worried and irritated. She went near the lady, kept both her hands on the lady's shoulder and asked, a little loudly, "Who are you, what happened?" The smile vanished, fear showed in her eyes which was staring at hers. "K______", said the mother in a trembling and broken soft voice, the only word she has uttered after entering the room. That name struck S. Dr. K was the Resident whose wife was admitted for her delivery around 4 years back when she had just joined. This smiling lady was Dr. Ks mother, who was very friendly with all the nursing staff at the time of their admission. What has happened to her in these years, S wondered. But that's for later she decided and jumped into action. She dialled the Ortho resident in charge of the ward, got Dr. Ks number and dialled him up. She told him his mother has wandered to the ward. She could feel the relief in Dr. Ks voice. Apparently in the last couple of years his mother had been diagnosed as Alzheimiers and almost totally lost her memory. Today Dr. K. brought her to the Neuro OPd from where she went missing in the morning. 6 hours later and from about 1 km away finally somebody called him with some positive news. K profusely thanked her and rushed to the ward. Meanwhile the other sisters had come and the Matha was back to her ever smiling self, still looking around but happy and chirpy. 

Dr. K rushed in 5 minutes later. " where were you Maa, how did you get here.... There is no place in PGI left to look for you.....", Dr. K asked, his voice cracking. All the tension, sadness and emotions that had built up over the last 6 hours finally getting released in a wave of relief. He went near his mom, brought his forehead onto hers and closed his eyes, hands on her cheeks. S could see tears overflowing from his eyes. The mother, stopped smiling, closed her eyes and shared the emotion, a couple of tears escaping her eyes. Maybe for a moment she realised her helplessness, for a moment realised both the pain and happiness and the love his son felt at that moment. Not an eye in the ward was dry when he lifted his forehead from him mothers from what seemed like eternity.

S was never teased for anything related to her working from that day onwards. Even if she was, S couldn't care any less. She finally realised that there is more to life than the stupid things people think/say about you. Life's all about the short time you get to love the people around you. 

Life's all about memories. 

True stories - Luck

True stories - Luck

He used to think he was the unluckiest person in the world. He was the only one in his whole family tree which included his 2 siblings, who inherited some ancient ancestral gene for thallasemia. He was doomed to 2 packets blood transfusion per month, as long as he lived. Not to  mention a constant worry of iron overload, drugs to prevent that, worry about hepatitis B and C with each transfusion, long queues in OPDs, social stigma, not able to do anything more than mild physical activity etc. He constantly felt he was some sort of waste God created or an error in His program which could not be deleted on time.

Then he met her.....

Although he used to meet a lot of kids at the bi monthly transfusion centre, what attracted her to him was her resilience. She never used to flinch, let alone cry when they inserted the cannula into her veins. She had that resilient "I-will-never-bow-before-my-disease" attitude from the day he saw her. Just that look in her, he recalls, inspired him. He began to see life with more positive attitude. With all his ailments, he worked hard in his academics. Time flew and he went on to do his engineering  and MBA and got a job with a more-than-decent salary. By this time he had mustered the courage to speak with the 'scary lady', as he jokingly calls her. The day he got a job, he bought a ring and went on his knees before her.

Now they have 2 adopted kids, the youngest one an infant, which was in the arms of her mother. Now he feels he is very lucky to have the disease, else he would never have met her, gotten inspired to give his best in everything and get the chance to share a wonderful life with such an amazing lady. They thanked me and left the OPD after their routine checkup. I could see them from the OPD window and couldn't help staring. They were walking with the elder kid beside dad and younger kid in her mothers arm. They were smiling as they were talking, her left hand was inside his, fingers entangled, both of them knowing that the other person will be there, till the very last breath.

God gives you the person you need, not the one you want.

Happy Valentine's Day.

True Stories - Belief

True stories - Belief

The setting was ideal for her to get irritated. Ultra-busy Monday Hemat clinic. She had her exams in a couple of months, but because of acute shortage of residents she had to see more patients than usual. Everyone was barging into her room, leaving her no room to breathe, which by the way, is quite routine. To top it off, she was sleep deprived because of a bumpy bus ride, and she was hungry and hypoglycemic because she had, as usual, missed her breakfast

Then came the really old couple. 'Mataji' had a not so complicated lymphoma and potentially treatable, even at her age, and unlike the many male chauvinists that we meet every day, 'Babaji' was adamant and almost eager to get her fully treated. However much she tried, she couldn't make Babaji understand the concept of chemo and follow up. "Although your chemo is once every 3 weeks you need to follow up every 10 days with your blood tests to look for dangerous cell count drop" - was a concept the Babaji had trouble comprehending, even after she explained for a third time. She got really irritated. "Saath mein aur koi nahi hein??" (isn't there anybody else with you??), she asked, the tone more in anger and frustration than concern. The toothless baba in his soft, but loving voice said softly and slowly, "Iske saath sirf do log hai, ek main hoon or abhi, aap hai, hamari beti." (There are only 2 people with her. One is me and now we have you, my daughter.)
Her head jerked up, eyes wide. (Was there tears in her eyes??) Although the crowd in the room including the SR sitting opposite to her started laughing at the unexpected comment, the tone of his voice and look in his eyes, pierced her deeply and tore her heart apart. Regaining composure quickly and hiding her tears successfully, she patiently explained to baba till he understood what was to be done. Before he left, she asked Babaji to meet her personally at the next follow up, without the queue and gave him the most sweetest of smiles as Babaji thanked her and left with his wife.

"Why did you ask them to meet you personally next time? Wouldn't that prolong your OPD even more?? After all you are exam-going, aren't you?”, asked the resident sitting opposite to her.

"Oh... That's alright, How could I not do at least that? After all....",
she paused for the tiniest of moments...

"I'm their daughter."

True stories - Dads hero

True stories - Dads hero

"I am a Bali fan", my father declared suddenly one day. 

"When did you go to Bali?", I asked, a little absent minded. 

"Not Bali the place dumbo, Bali the monkey, Sugreeva's brother, the strongest of all beings", my dad said in an excited voice, clearly in total admiration of the mythical creature.

"Why this fandom all of a sudden, and why Bali in particular? ", I asked.

"I am glad you asked that question... I saw an ancient Indian art form today called Koodiyattam. They showed the story of my favourite character, I want to narrate that story to you, so that you understand my admiration and with it learn a lesson in life.", my dad said excitedly, totally ignoring the here-we-go-again sigh from my mom.

<Koodiyattam (Malayalam: കൂടിയാട്ടം, Kūṭiyāṭṭaṁ, Sanskrit: कूडियाट्टम्, Kūḍiyāṭṭam), also transliterated as Kutiyattam, is a form of Sanskrit theatre traditionally performed in the state of Kerala, India. Performed in the Sanskrit language in Hindu temples, it is believed to be 2,000 years old. It is officially recognised by UNESCO as a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity.>

"Please do", I said and dad started his story.

------------

Bali was the strongest being of all times, the Puranas mention that on multiple occasions. Bali was preparing for battle after his estranged brother, Sugreeva, challenged him for a duel. Just as he was about to leave for the battle, his wife Tara stopped him. "Please don't go today, I have a bad feeling about today. Sugreeva has a glint in his eye that he's never had before. He knows he can never beat you alone and still he has challenged you. That means he has got something new, a new allegiance or a new weapon. Please don't go today." 

<it must be noted that the most beautiful women in Ramayana according to all the holy books are Ahalya, Tara and Mandodari in that order.....>

Bali laughed out aloud. "Oh, my beautiful wife... Nothing or no one can stop me. I am mightier than Indra, as brave as Lord Narasimha. Don't you know that when the Devas and Asuras were churning the Palazhi, they both had got exhausted at one point. I went alone and grabbed hold of both ends of the big snake Vasuki and churned the sea alone till they recovered. I am stronger than both the Devas and the Asuras put together. "

Tara pleaded.... "I know all this, my Lord. But I have had bad dreams all night yesterday..... The omens are not good. Even great warriors have bad days. Just don't go today."

Bali roared again..."It is a warrior's honour that is at stake when he is challenged to a battle. I can easily beat Sugreeva and whoever he has with him as his new friend. Please go back to the palace and wait for my triumphant return" 

Seeing that her argument is pointless, Tara walked back to her palace, teary eyed, but painting a brave look, hands folded in salutation, lips chanting prayers. And the Brave Bali jumped outside for his final battle....

Scene 2

Bali and Sugriva are fighting and Lord Rama is at a distance, hidden, with his Bow ready with a strong Astra. But because of their close fighting the Lord can't get a clear shot. Just as the battle seemed to end, Bali raised his brother with both his arms and was about to finally smash him to a rock below. Then The Lord sent his arrow which pierced Bali's heart and came out through his back. Bali put down Sugreeva and charged at the Lord, but the Lord sent arrows after arrows that the Great Warrior fell down. Lord Ram came near the dying warrior. Bali, realising that his death is at the hands of Lord Vishnu, the Maker Himself, became teary eyed and asked the Lord, "Why?? Why me?? What can he offer you that I cannot??" Bali laughed out weakly when he heard about the need to beat Raavan to win back Seeta Devi. In his dying voice, he told a story.

"To maintain my strength and discipline I perform my daily poojas and tharpanas in all the 7 Great Oceans in the World. Once I was doing my evening tharpanas in the Indian Ocean when Raavan thought he would have some fun with me. He tried to lift me by my tail while I was doing the tharpana. I couldn't stop my Pooja so I thought I would deal with him later. Hence I wound him with my tail. He tried with all his strength but was unable to escape. I jumped from one ocean to the next, continuing my tharpana, Raavan bouncing along in each of these Oceans. He was almost in tears at the 7th ocean and ran away to his Kingdom the moment I released him.  

That Raavan?? For beating him you allied with Sugreeva?? I would've beaten him and his Army alone for you. All you had to do was come to me.  If you had become my friend, Raavan would have handed your wife over without any war. Why kill me to win over Raavan...." Bali pleaded.

The Lord came close and whispered in his ear. "Dear Bali.... But in that case, I wouldn't be able to kill Raavan and fulfil the purpose of my Avatar. And more importantly I wouldn't be able to give you your Moksha. Now when you die, you attain your eternal peace, your moksha, you become a part of me. How can I bless you more, Oh great warrior, than by this." The Lord smiled. As Bali's eyes were closing one last time, he saw Lord Vishnu standing in front of him, the yellow silk Dhoti worn, fully clad with beautiful ornaments, the four upper limb Shankh-Chakra-Gada-Padm form of the Maker, smiling at him, blessing him. Although in a lot of pain, Bali smiled back as his eyes closed, as he knew that the eternal peace that all living beings seek, was just one breath away.

--------------------

"Now you know why I am a Bali fan. The path of Moksha, the eternal peace, is unshakable Bhakthi with determination and perseverance to follow your path, attain what you think is right. All of us can be heroes and do heroic things. The word hero need not be a noun, it can be a verb too. " 

Dad finished his story, almost breathless with the passion built up in him, tears not just in his eyes but in all of ours. 

Dad found his hero in Bali. With this story, I also found mine.

In my dad.