Showing posts with label misery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label misery. Show all posts

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

Apollo's Ire

A good doctor treats a disease. A great doctor treats a patient. The medical education system, which I am a part of, is probably suffieciently equipped to churn out good doctors. But, rarely does this framework go beyond the realms of scientific teachings and cultivate a batch of great doctors. Free medical services do not give you the license to compromise on the quality of healthcare - something which professionals associated with government hospitals all over the country need to be reminded. When you become a doctor and undertake the Hippocratic Oath, you embark on a voyage in the sea of humanity. Storms in the forms of diseases have to be weathered and newer and better routes to good health need to be constantly chartered. Sadly, the money-making tendencies and the lack of a moral dimension to medical practice has brought about a partial, if not complete, erosion of these extremely essential social ingredients of medical profession.

I have watched with my own eyes, a patient first become a clinical history, then an examination, a diagnosis, a chart, a case number and eventually a shabbily stored hospital record. I have seen a sick man stand in line for six hours, waiting and still waiting, to be shuffled through an inefficient system of impatient receptionists, an overworked nursing staff and a breed of doctors who couldn't care less. I have seen patients in a pathetic state being robbed of whatever little comfort and dignity they carried when they entered the hospital premises. I have seen them languishing in their beds by the day, oblivious to the hustle-bustle in the wards. I have heard them howling in the nights with noone to alleviate their pain. I have watched a patient being told bluntly that he had cancer - irrevocable and invariably fatal - and then shoved out of the clinician's room to ponder over his impending end. I have seen twenty abdomens being examined in thirty minutes without so much as a glance at the fear writ large on the face of the patients. I have seen the facial muscles of an old man's wife twitch as two junior residents mutter gross jargon with sardonic smiles over her husband's ailing body.

I am ashamed that such inhuman actions are perpetrated under the guise of State-sponsored charity. I am ashamed that the sick of the society are seen as liabilities and obligations. I am ashamed that we have become so insensitive and academically carried away that we are more interested in the disease rather than the diseased. The worrying rise in the incidence of nosocomial (hospital acquired) cross-infections is another indication that all is not well with our public tertiary health services. Patients instead of getting treated, often go out in a worse situation than ever before. They are overloaded with empirical pharmacological agents and acted upon as experiments for the young and the ignorant. Mind you - the situation is this bad only in the civil hospitals. Their private counterparts literally pamper their patients even if it is eventually only to fill their own pockets. The time has come to infuse humanity back into medicine. The time has come to understand that your patient is someone's father, brother, husband or son and if not even that - atleast he is a fellow human being, created and loved by God, just as you are. The time has come to win back the faith of the Gods and carry out in earnest the job entrusted to us. It might be a mere professional routine to us but for someone else it is a matter between life and death...

Saturday, 4 August 2007

First few days at hostel...

Misery is bitter. But triumph over misery is just as sweet. My first reaction on seeing the place where I am condemned (OK fine...destined) was that of extreme shock, disgustion and disappointment. And my first day at the ghastly place did nothing to tide over my fears. A 10 x 9 (feet) room with two rusted naked iron cots, a cupboard that steadfastly refuses to close, a clear inch of dust and an apparent breeding ground for all members of the Phyla Annelida and Arthropoda....could it get worse? Oh yes, it could. A single toilet to be 'shared' between 60 digestively harassed (by first morsels of hostel food which by the way is fairly good) - a toilet predominated by faeces (supposedly human) and some repugnant insects (that managed to tighten several rectums). Bathrooms were comparatively less worse....in fact they may even be classified as passable. This was MISERY and I swear it was bitter.

The next day was almost the same but our tempers were learning to fly, our tolerance was waning and our environmental flexibility was at its zenith. With some hard work and fraternal inspiration we made our rooms habitable. Relentless knocks at the doors of the Sanitary Inspector also secured a brief span of cleanliness at the toilets/bathrooms.

I feel its unnecessary to detail our adaptive and preventive mechanisms against what we were put up with (It doesn't after all make for pleasant talk, does it?) Now after a week, classes are sinking into torpor and our hostel conditions are sliding back again. But our fight will continue.

Duniya mein hum aaye hain to jeena hi padega,
Yeh jeevan hai agar zeher to peena hi padega.

CAUTION
: Most parts of this article may be blundered over-reactions from me. In that case, an apology should be due in the coming weeks...


APOLOGY - dated 19/8/2007
Its been almost three weeks since my induction into the medical professional course at Rajkot and amongst the many things I have realized since then is this :
Hostel is not home. But, hostel isn't hell either. And this is what I hope is an adequately constituted apology for all those demeaning words (or should I put it down as an emotional extravagance?) that I have uttered above. Believe me - I am not kidding when I say that I have developed a queer form of attachment with my hostel (which by the way is named Sir Lakhajiraj Boys Hostel) - an attachment that has room for loyalty, disgust, frustration, ambition an all other feelings that might cause lesser mortals to explode. Maybe it has helped that I am now conveniently oblivious to the presence of all arthropods and annelids creeping ominously around us. How can the eyes see what the mind simply refuses to see?

Man obviously is the most flexible of all of God's dear creations and can adapt best to the situations thrust upon him. All I know is that my room is sufficient for the bare survival of two individuals on the threshold of independence. Its not the proverbial country cottage but then country cottages were never known to produce good doctors. Sometimes you have to allow yourself to be driven by hope - however faint it might appear to be. After all, not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced. So, bring it all on....I am battle-ready.