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The Scripted Life

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The Scripted Life  It was a crowded place   Almost everyone seemed to be talking, coughing, sneezing or in pain. I too let out a sneeze. My mother immediately wiped my face and nose and took me nearer. I dug my face into her lap.   Suddenly there was a hush and I saw people getting up. I too got up on my feet and sneezed again.   A tall man with a long white coat and a black pipe around his neck looked down while passing by and kept his hand on my head. I touched his white coat.   Soft, pure, and magical.   I asked my mother “ Who is he?” She said he is a big Doctor. He will stop you from sneezing   As a little girl, I could imagine the power in his hands.  “The Power of Healing”   I looked at the queue in front and behind me. It seemed endless on either side. My mother asked, “ Are you hungry”. I nodded. She fished out a Parle G biscuit, and I devoured it with a few sneezes in between. I peeped into the doctor’s room as the door was completely ajar. He was nodding, taking the black ro
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Is It Enough That I Am Good?

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In my years of practising medicine, certain incidents linger in my mind.  Once, as I was rushing out of the emergency room, a family bound to me by their neurological diseases quickly approached me. They were in grief. Their son, a careful driver who followed every traffic rule, was on the operating table after a drunk driver ran into him. He was sick, and they were struggling to deal with how unfair it all seemed. They asked me, “Doctor, how could this happen to him? He did everything right.”  Their words resonated with an experience I had years ago when my daughter was in school. It was her school’s annual function, and she had a major role. The school had prohibited cameras at the event. I respected the rule and left mine at home. But when the event began, I was surprised to see most parents go very near the stage, cameras in hand, recording every moment of their children’s performances.  My daughter was amazing, and while I captured every moment in my heart, I have now no proof to
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My Soul mate

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Pregnancy is a very beautiful feeling.  When I came to know about my pregnancy, it was a heavenly feeling.  I felt her within me from the first day and In fact, I can still feel her emotions even if she is miles away. While I carried the weight of two lives, yet my needs often got overlooked. My hunger cramps and leg cramps used to compete with each other.  They were very frequently entertained by a musical note by the duty pager.  I never ate the raw mango, untimely ice creams, masala chips and all the food they usually show in the movies the pampered pregnant woman has!  While I was struggling to balance the pregnancy and workload in the solitary journey,  I turned into a stronger and more resilient woman.   And I thank you my lovely beta for being there and moulding me.  Your presence from the womb till now reminds me that even in the toughest times, I am never really alone…….
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The beauty in being a woman

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It was 10 minutes past midnight. The flight was unprecedentedly delayed by 2 hours. “ A technical hitch “ was what was told to us. We were relieved that the flight had landed smoothly without any technical issues. I was on my way to visit my daughter.  As I retrieved my luggage from the conveyor belt, troubled thoughts swirled in my mind. It’s getting late. Should I leave now, or should I stay at a nearby hotel for the night before continuing my journey? Lost in thought, I kept walking until I reached the exit. As I was about to leave, someone grabbed my suitcase and said, "Namaste, Madam. You're late to visit your daughter this time." His cheerful face was like a God-given gift.   I replied, "Yes, I have been busy," then we started. I relaxed and leaned back, ready to sleep. The journey of a woman's life is both challenging and beautiful.  Understanding the challenges that women face in their everyday lives is something that only another woman can truly un
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The grey in our decisions

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The grey in our decisions   This was in the summer of last year. I had a 55-year-old male patient admitted with a severe stroke. He was a government job holder with lots of stress and had hypertension. He was initially intubated and was now off that tube. He still needed two tubes: one to feed him and another to drain out his urine.  For the last seven days, we all had struggled and brought him to this present position, which was excellent by medical grading. His wife and daughter were the only family members present at his bedside.  However, despite the medical progress, in reality, the patient and his family were still struggling. The neurology team recommended rehabilitation care but the family was unable to decide. We spent a couple of days wavering on decisions between discharge or continuing hospital management The daughter asked me, "Is this the right decision to go home?  "I pondered   "There is no single right decision; each of us is right from our perspective.
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The unspoken language of eyes

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The unspoken language of eyes  Year - 2006  Time - around 5.30 pm  Place - outside a park  Physical state – Hurriedly dashing inside the park  Mental state - Anxious  Target - Meeting my daughter  As I hurriedly entered the park, amidst children laughing, shouting, screaming and crying, I spotted my daughter sitting with her head down, trying to remove her roller skates. It was the day of the skating competition, and I had come with her but had to leave due to a medical emergency.  As a doctor, I sometimes have no choice.  She had told me, "Mama, you go, and by the time you are back, I will have won." As I approached her, my heart weighed heavy with worry, wondering whether she had. Looking at her drooped shoulders, I wondered whether she had made it to her words. I rushed towards her with a heavy heart, blaming myself for my absence.  Beta I called. She looked straight into my eyes. The victory was written in her tired eyes. She bend down hastily to untie her skates again. 
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The Language of Love

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The Language of Love It was a quiet Friday at the hospital. With most patients away celebrating the festival, I too was eager to finish my work and head home. There is a certain joy in relaxing at home, sometimes that’s a celebration to me.  The next patient I saw was an elderly lady who was accompanied by a middle-aged man. With her first step inside my room, she locked eyes with me. She always accompanied her husband, who was the patient. They have been with me for a decade. However, he wasn’t with her this time and I wondered why he hadn’t come.  As she entered inside I was unsure whether she should be steered towards the patient or the bystander chair. She did not give me time and headed straight to the patient chair.  I have a standard practice of asking how my old patients are doing when I see them. But this time, she beat me to it and asked me “How are you”? I responded by saying that I was very well and thanked her for asking. Upon hearing this she held my hands and there w
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