Is it because of having to address the same issues from the same facet of life, of diseases & death, days in days out?
And then having to share my understanding with the person and his family who come on a religiously regular basis? The tribe keeps on flourishing no matter how hard I try to look disinterested, or try to stop widening my eyes, or try restricting the movements of my forearms as I interact (that's the feed I've been getting from the exuberant ones of my clientele), or trying to simply sit back with apathetic intensity instead of impressing eagerness into the private space of somebody.
And I need the money too. Badly.
The evenings should be welcome really, when I become a part of a family, share and get visible importance.
Because I still keep on complaining of loneliness, when I am at home. Not a sound but that what comes out of the television, not a single movement of intent other than the routine ones, simply because there is no reason. Absence of Reason..I immediately hold myself back from using the words metaphorically and project as part of my life with cruel irony. I revel in doing so, venting causticity from behind words, at life, at normal thoughts and normal emotions of normal people.
In the clinic, it's so different. You form a team with every patient, make him or her discover man's inherent inner strength and laugh loudly at illness that was threatening him. It's such an interactive period of time. When a patient laughs, I seem to win somewhere. I don't know where, but it is a sense of victory...like every time you "check" in your penultimate move, while playing chess in the internet, going up the levels. And of course the crisp notes of money in denominations of hundreds and fifties are there for you to be taken, as you clear your throat or cough mildly for no apparent reason to speak over the intercom : "Next patient."
Yesterday, I found out a part of the reason. As I was giving my evening rounds, a 65 year old man was getting discharged. He had come cold with a still heart a few days back, and luckily the ECG trace in the monitor became "alive" after a mindless, desperate fourth time of 360 Joules, and casually began to dance in a regular rhythm. He spoke within 7-8 minutes.
I remember the feeling of suppressed pride the body one of the two nurses exuded, and the bright smile her eyes flared at me as she handed me the atropine syringe I asked for minutes later.
The relatives were happy to stand still relieved as they wondered what happened and the man was back. I tried to avoid the multiple gazes of relief by moving off to wash my hands. As I looked down at the soap bubbles, I wondered the same."what happened? He is back.."
Yesterday as I was putting my signature in the discharge card, this elderly lady appeared and suddenly stooped to touch my feet. I almost fell as I withdrew my boots, toes curled inside, pushing the chair back. As I moved to a position of "safety", she hugged me tightly holding her saree against her nose and mouth, most probably to control weeping.
Then she blessed me with seriousness. Among the things she wished me, were Peace, a Happy Content family life, good health for my child or children and a drastic spread of possible Fame. Of course the wealth was there.
All these just because a heart, her husband's in this case, had a change of heart, changed its mood and intent, and went back to work. And I happened to be part of the process.
I'm thinking of putting a plate outside the clinic door.
"please pay money if possible. No blessings please."
I have had enough of this charade.
Sent from my BlackBerry® Smartphone
Dr.Anirban Chaudhuri,
Consultant Physician,
Mumbai, India.
Blog: ANIRBANSPEAK
http://anirbanspeak.blogspot.com
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"Whatever I did, I did it my way.."
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