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".

True stories - kindness

True stories - kindness

I was on a return trip from Mumbai to Kerala and was waiting for the queue to board the plane when the airlines guy announced a fast track queue for privilege passengers, frequent fliers, mothers with infants and people requiring special assistance. A few people left our queue and joined the other line. I noticed that one guy, with his arm is in a sling and cast, quite obviously travelling alone, stayed put in our queue and moved along with us. I liked that resolute look of quiet dignity I saw in his eyes. As fate would have it, he was seated adjacent to me. I gave him a smile, confirmed with him that he was travelling alone and that I need not exchange my seat with anyone and helped him settle. I noticed he was having trouble with adjusting and buckling his seat belt and helped him do it. I assured him that I would help him, and told him to relax. He still seemed skeptic at my generous offer but was visibly much more relaxed when he enquired about what I do and realised I was a doctor going on leave. He then slowly started opening himself, told that he was a crane operator in Saudi and fell down from crane operators cabin one week back and the company was generous enough to sanction his full pay leave which was due and he was going home to visit his family. He was real jumpy about the prospect of meeting his family after 2 years and was excitedly telling about how his son was good at academics, his daughter was winning prizes at the youth festival and how he is getting his wife her favourite perfume as a surprise gift. By that time, the refreshments had arrived and I had helped him open his pudding, make his tea with milk powder, helped him arrange his tray table and opened his water bottle. He said that the airline staff in the international plane was much more compassionate and understanding and even confided to me <with a snigger> that they slipped him a couple of 'hot' drinks to 'ease him of the pain'. We spoke about the plight of mallu workers abroad, why people do it, the comforts and their struggles, everything. Through him I saw a lifetime of struggle, sacrifice, integrity and love. When we finally parted, after I helped him load luggage from the conveyor belt into his trolley, he said, "Thank you so much sir, I'm sorry that I seemed a little distant towards your helpful approach, but believe me when I say this, throughout the journey, nobody was this helpful and understanding to my troubles. May God bless you." I nodded my head and we parted, a content smile on my face.

Love for the fellow human being, strike one.

I told this story to my dad, and he began his own. 

I went to the medical college post office today to post your wedding invitation. Being a few minutes early, I had to wait for 15 mins for the person at the speed post/stamp counter to come. I was waiting, fiddling with my phone when a middle aged man came running in. He also was told to wait 15 mins. He seemed very disturbed and disappointed and was pacing around, mumbling to himself, very impatient. I asked him, "Is there a problem? What's the matter?" He said, "I've seated my wife in front of the doctors room at the radiotherapy unit, and I don't know when they'll call her. I need to be with her when they do call her, because she will never convey all her troubles and only I, who takes care of her, can do that. But I need to speed post this today, an application for some medical aid towards her cancer treatment, else the money'll get delayed." The man continued pacing around, still disturbed. "Do one thing", I told. "Give me the envelope and I'll post it for you." He suddenly stopped, looked at me suspiciously. "I am waiting for the same purpose, I'll post your letter also.", I repeated. "I don't know how much postal charge it will cost....", he said, still quite unsure of what he is doing. "Anyway it is going to be trivial, I am not going to take money from you, give it to me if you trust me and it will be done.", I offered a third time. Maybe hearing the sincerity in my voice, he quickly wrote the address on the envelope and handed it to me. "Thank you sir,", he said with palms together with respect. "Why do you do this??", he enquired. "Don't be silly.", I told him. "My dad always used to tell me to do at least one good deed a day. Thank you for giving me the opportunity today to fulfil my fathers wish. Please go to your wife and take good care of her, all will be well.", I replied. His voice broke, a glint of a tear came into his eye and he mumbled another thank you and hurried off.

Love for the fellow human being, strike two.

My mom, not to be left behind hearing all this, began her story.

The distance from medical college junction/ bus stop to the College per se, is about a kilometre. The RCC lies along the way, around 800m from the junction. 2 weeks back, I was driving to college from Medical College junction when I saw this family, walking by the side of the road. A mom, a father and a kid. The kid was bald and was wearing a green mask, so they were quite obviously going to Rcc from a distant place for cancer treatment. By their clothing and the fact that they decided to save 20 rupees on an auto by walking that one kilometre to Rcc, told me that they were financially not well off. I stopped the car by their side and asked them to climb in and told I'll drop them at the hospital. The kid looked excited but the parents looked doubtful. I told them that I am going in the same direction and opened the front door. They reluctantly climbed in. The child was very excited at his first ride in a Ford IKON and was in total amazement at the control knobs and stereo and ac. His mother had to hold his hands to prevent him from fiddling with the stereo controls. But I noticed that she never scolded the child. No words were exchanged and I dropped them off at RCC, the kid gave me the widest of toothless grins I have ever received while his mother mumbled a thanks. I proceeded to work as usual.

Today, exactly 2 weeks later, I saw them on the same road, but this time the kid was looking behind expectantly for something. His face lit up like sunrise when he saw my bright red car. I stopped again and opened the door, no doubts were raised this time as the family climbed in, the dad in front with the kid this time and needing less restrain. 2 minutes and another wide toothless grin later, I was about to depart from Rcc when the dad told me. "Thank you madam for what you have done. For the first time in his 12 cycles of chemo for my sons leukaemia, today morning he did not cry and did not refuse to come out from the house for his painful chemo. He was so thrilled by his car ride 2 weeks back that he expected you to come today also. Gods grace that we met today also. I haven't seen him smile this wide for many months now." The dad left me and I continued to work, totally lost for words.

Love for the fellow human being, strike three

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, we are spiritual beings having a human experience. And in this short human form lasting just a few years, in a world billions of years old, we should turn the common suffering of all humans into hope for the future. - Madiba

Epilogue - Food for thought.

My sister, reading this said, "you are missing a point here, aren't you?" I braced myself for something wise and philosophical when she continued, "It is quite a normal and natural thing for everyone in our family to do what you guys did. But all three times, initially you were met with skepticism and a defensive attitude. On doing your act of kindness, it was treated as if you guys had done something great and your generosity was out of the world. Which, u know it and I know it, it was not. It was a simple straightforward action of kindness, one which we will normally do on any other day given an opportunity, just because of our respect to our fellow human being. "

"The society has degraded to such an extent that the simplest of acts of kindness is viewed with lots of doubt and when done, perceived with out of the world rarity, because actually, such attitude is, in itself, is quite rare. We should all be ashamed of ourselves."

Love for the fellow human being, game, set and match.

True stories - What do men look for in the woman they want to marry.

True story - What do men look for in the woman they want to marry.

What do men look for in the woman they want to marry?? Their looks? Educational status?? Job profile?? Character?? Money?? Family?? Place of birth?? Region / caste?? Ask yourself this question and you think that your answer is one among the above factors if not a combination of those. Am I correct??? Well you are terribly mistaken, guys...

When I told all my guy friends about this batchmate girl I met at the library, who watches football, follows it and is a ardent supporter of Barcelona and a die hard fan of Carlos Puyol and Iniesta (not because of their looks!!),  half of them wouldn't believe me at any cost. The first thing that the other half (whom I could convince with difficulty and evidence) asked me was, "Is she married??" :-D 

Not a question about looks/family/money/education/nationality/job. Not even one word about age/religion.

The heart of a man knows what the mind does not. Football is religion. 

Football is life.

True stories - Guru

True stories - Guru

I was already into my second year of my Ayurveda degree but the class I was about to attend today scared me like hell. It was to be taken by the youngest and most brilliant AP of the college, who unfortunately happened to be my dads younger brother. Of course, everyone in class knew this for a fact and was smiling at me. I, on the other hand was terrified because I had no idea how I am gonna face that quiz he conducts at the beginning of every class. I contemplated on bunking. Twice. Finally decided otherwise and entered the class. Second last row, second last seat. Well hidden, I patted myself on the back. He will miss me, I was almost sure. 

The sir entered. He looked smart, as always. "Ok class, let's begin, who can tell me the sloka that defines....."

His eyes searched the crowd and easily found me, "You...", he pointed. I, obviously had no idea of the answer, so I remained standing looking at my feet. He looked disappointed, I understood why. The question was not a difficult one, I just had not read that part. My classmates started sniggering, "Next", he said. How am I to know, in the second last row, I will be seated next to a total nerd. She got up and blasted away the sloka. Perfect pronunciation. When she completed, I was still standing looking like a total joker. All my classmates, esp the boys were having a field day. "So what punishment do we give her", sir asked, playing along, a small smile on his face. 

The pure glee in some of the boys face seemed like Onam had come early. Almost everyone was sniggering now. I stared straight ahead, refusing to be humiliated. "Imposition, 50 times??", some wise crack from the boys side suggested, which was greeted by jeers of approval and even more laughter. 

"50 times imposition seems fair enough", he agreed. The class almost cheered. My heart sank. " However", he continued, " if we bring forth such a convention, it stays. It'll be applicable to everyone in all the quizzes from now onwards. Ok with you people?? ". 

The class groaned collectively, my turn to smile. (In that case) "I think we can let her off this time", some smart-ass, again from the boys side suggested, and a collective disappointed sigh of approval followed. "If thats the case, we will continue with the class", sir waved me to sit down, smirk on his face. "Study and come next time", he told gently, those eyes showing lot of recognition and affection.

Lessons from the day: A good teacher will never humiliate you. 2. You can always count on your own blood. 

True Stories - Humanity

The smallest of instances, the tiniest of actions prove to us how humanity and love for the fellow human being, is inherently present in us all. I am not gloating here, but I see it day in and night out among residents. MD students who pull trolleys, who open their purses and give money to patients, who donate blood for their patients, who believe that a part of their salary should always go to charity, these are the people who reinforce the belief in humanity and the ultimate power of the human heart, prayer and effort. I have seen residents say, " I will not let this patient die under my watch" with such conviction that it was no surprise that they kept their word, I have seen MD residents weep like babies when their patient, totally unrelated to them otherwise, expires. I have also heard Residents say, "What's the point, he is going to die anyways", and then work so hard, put so much effort, as if they are determined to prove themselves wrong. I have seen residents argue with their consultants about the unfairness of the system. Not the system that doesn't provide the residents a decent salary, definite working hours or decent food and accommodation. But against the system that makes patients wait hours to see the doctor, to wander for their investigation reports, against the system that doesn't provide drugs free of cost to the patients, against the system that doesn't care for its patients enough. Never a word against the system that treats them like sh&t. The resident doesn't care about what Aamir Khan says about them or what the J&K minister does to them, they don't even care what pittance the Tamil govt pays them, mainly because he does not have to think about all this, he is busy saving lives. I have seen residents shun all compliment goodies thrown at them by the MRs but use the goodwill in getting free/discounted medication for their patients. I have seen residents take leave from their free postings and voluntarily go to foreign countries affected by earthquake, live through pathetic facilities because they just felt they had to 'do their part'. I have seen and experienced countless times how the residents and staff work efficiently as a team to resuscitate a patient whose heart has stopped, and then walk away as if it's nothing exceptional when the patient is revived from the gateway of death. It's nothing new to them and least the resident wants, at any point, is the credit. I have seen residents gets scolded to tears not for their lack of knowledge but for the lack of commitment towards the patient. Because that's how the unit works, not just here, but everywhere, the seniors always ensure that the resident learns the most important lesson of them all, ie empathy. 

I agree that my 10 year experience in the medical field doesn't make me an expert. I agree that our profession too has its black sheep and thorny bushes, but in the SAME frequency and proportion as all other professions, if not less. I agree that we too make avoidable mistakes, albeit rarely, and we have huge room for improvement, in ourselves and in the system. I agree that there are many other self sacrificing professions, people who work day and night selflessly so that we sleep safe, the policemen, the jawans at the border, train drivers, pilots etc etc. but one also has to realise that none of them are ever under litigation for huge sums for any mistake they may ever commit, few of them need a professional insurance that too for huge amounts. But again, like all the personal problems the doctor/resident faces, we just don't care because we are too busy saving the next life.

I'll conclude by a small scene I saw while I was passing by the emergency the other day. The emergency was crowded, as always, and the hall outside the Emg had patients on trolleys on either side that there was just space in between for people to walk through the hall 

 in a single line. There was this young female patient lying in one of the trolleys, and between her legs was perched her infant. The new born was probably less than a month old, judging by his size, but was unusually very calm, not shrieking but just lying relaxed gazing out with her big eyes at all the commotion happening around her. Each and every one of those who passed by the mother and the kid couldn't resist giving the infant a loving glance, and pause for a moment to absorb the beauty of the scene in between the chaotic emergency. The guy who walked in front of me, like all others, paused for a moment near the infant. He suddenly saw a housefly, fly in and land itself in the infant knee. He didn't  think for a moment before using his hand to shoo the fly away. The infant seeing the fly and the shooing motion, got amused and gave him, her eye twinkling, toothless and wide smile, which the bearded sardarji promptly returned, as he walked away. The passerby sardarji by the sheer virtue of human nature, simply couldn't stand a fly sitting on some unrelated infants knee and vice versa, the infant, not yet destroyed by the the society, didn't hesitate to give the sweetest of smiles to the bearded stranger who was making weird hand movements at a fly. Because after all, every human being in the world, infant or elderly, Sardar or Mallu, knows deep within themselves, the inherent and unshakable knowledge, that the soul that lies within each one of us, is one and the same.

True Stories - our promise to her......

More than three quarters of a century ago, there lived an Antharjanam* who was raised in an orthodox family in south Kerala. Her father, though not rich or formally educated, ensured that his children were not deprived of the same. Thus, she was able to graduate with a B.Sc. degree in Chemistry, and teach in a pre-school. A year later, she got married to the protagonist of this story.

After marriage he chanced upon her graduation mark sheets and found that she had excellent grades. He was someone who, despite having top grades in every exam he’d written, had to postpone his higher education for 10 years because his father was no more and his family lived hand-to-mouth. He did not want the family he supported to have the same fate. Thus, he sent her to Medical College, Trivandrum to procure her
MBBS degree. The struggles that he had to undergo, the hardships he endured, the comforts he sacrificed and the opposition that he faced even from his close relatives cannot be put into words. Even then, he strove hard to pay for her books and other educational expenses. Then came two children and their expenses shot up, but he somehow managed to make ends meet. At the local pawnshop, people knew him by his first name and his only gold ring by a mere glance.

She finished her MBBS and became the first doctor from the Nampoothiri**
community in Kerala. By that time, the couple had had two more children. Soon she also got appointed in the Department of Medicine at Trivandrum Medical College. She then pursued her MD in Medicine and graduated with flying colours. Her husband anted her to make maximum use of her potential, and not be denied of any opportunities owing to family commitments. So, he sent her to London to procure an MRCP, while he took care of the kids. Remember, the time was 1960s when even the men in Kerala had not started dreaming of going abroad, and an Antharjanam traveling overseas all
alone to study was unheard of. But this time she missed her children so badly that she came back to India against his wishes after a year without completing her degree.

She went on to become a successful doctor, a loving wife, a doting mother, earned name and fame. Her four children grew up to be successful in their lives. Time flew and she retired as Professor of Medicine at Trivandrum Medical College. By that time her husband had long since retired, and she did not pursue work, in spite of receiving lucrative offers. Instead, she faithfully joined her husband in his spiritual quest. Together they found their Prathyaksha Krishna, who had been with them throughout, in Srimad Bhagavatam, thus making their life brighter, richer and ever more meaningful.
In her 80s now, she leads a peaceful, blissful life with her husband, children and grandchildren. She has always and still continues to speak with high regards about her husband, who sacrificed a lot, so that she could study and become successful in life. Not even a single day passes in her life without her thinking of his selfless deeds or speaking about him with love and gratitude.

One day we asked him, “What made you do what you did, and how did you have the courage? How many things could have gone wrong..!” He smiled ever humbly and replied, “You see, it was a period when women in our community were confined within the four walls of the house. I always seethed at the injustice and wanted to prove a point. I paid for her studies with my own, hard-earned money. It was actually no big deal, she was brilliant and I just helped her to live up to her potential. And about the
courage part, truthfully I didn’t have much; I just believed that Lord Krishna would take me across, even if it was one stroke at a time. You have to move forward and keep the faith if you want to achieve anything in life.”

I feel extremely proud to be the first grandchild of this blessed couple.

True stories - He & I

He & I

I still remember the day he was born – saw him first when he was covered in a white cotton cloth, his tiny fists clenched, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, snuggling in a cradle near Amma’s bed. I was all of 4 years of age and was staring with bewilderment at him and I remember being happy to get a tiny little brother whom I could boss around. Little did I know that I was in for a surprise..!

As a kid he was always up to some mischief and got himself into trouble. Stuffing whatever little things he found into his nose and locking himself in the bathroom without knowing how to open the bolt were some of the brat’s less-dangerous performances. And I was more of a rescuer than boss!

Growing up together was so much fun – we have shared countless laugh-till-you-gasp moments, innumerable 2-wheeler rides discussing everything under the stars, impromptu adventure trips, many many don’t-tell-anyone talks.. We have had our share of fights too – fights that then brought us to tears but now bring a smile.

He grew up to be a smart, all-knowing, mature person who considers himself as my elder brother. I, who handled the role of Agony Aunt to my friends, always turned to him when I was in trouble or needed advice. A doctor now, he has ensured that he will continue to be my adviser when I’ll eventually have old-age ailments!

He is my first love, best friend, adviser, confidant……. everything including physician and driving teacher. And today, the 7th of September, it has been 24 years since the day he made his grand entrance to this world.

Happy birthday, Ram Nampoothiri