COGNITIVE ANECDOTES

Who? Surgery? ME????

Standing in the operation theater [OT] as a student, with nothing to do; not even having irritation from the houseflies is a tough task. It was yet another long day in the OT, standing and dreaming. Its amazing how thoughts from various fields of interest cross your mind while standing and watching a surgery! My mind wandered from the much waited football match I was going to see to the new rock single that has captivated my mind. Just then, the surgeon finished his first case. I hummed a mellow song as he let the intern do the suturing. After that was done, I settled down with my mates in a corner of the OT. As we relaxed, cracking jokes and sharing opinions about the doctors, the Surgeon approached us and asked,

"So who is going to assist me in the next case? Its a fibroadenoma of breast"

I wasted no time in informing him that he had been mistaken and that we were just undergraduates, not residents or interns. To our dismay, we learnt that he had meant what he said and he was well aware that we were students. As none of us were ready to step up to this gruesome task, the surgeon himself decided to choose his assistant and much to my horror, he chose me!

He showed me the proper way to wash hands and I mimicked every gesture of his like a silly chimp. The bad omens were starting to show as I opened the door with my hands, forgetful about the fact that I had just washed to make my hands sterile. A strange feeling hovered about myself, something that said the surgeon has selected the wrong person. I was happy my mask covered my nose and mouth completely as I was too embarrassed to face my mates [I'm sure they would remember the day when i cut the big Internal carotid artery of a cadaver into 2!]. I washed my hands again and thankfully, this time I thudded open the door with my leg [So forcefully that it reminded me of the old Wild Wild West films]. The next tedious process would be the gloving of hands. The surgeon had a horrid time explaining how to get my hands gloved up in the right manner. Much to my relief, no...his relief, I was able to do it on the third attempt.

I watched him incise the skin over the breast, blood gushed from the cut capillaries, I was asked to mop it with cotton, he was not too impressed with my mopping as it was more like pampering the cheeks of a supermodel with powder. Rest of my job was pretty easy, I was busy retracting the skin while he worked meticulously with his skilled hands and removed the tumor. It was a great experience, something very different from working on the cold clammy cadavers. You could feel the pulsations, you could feel the warmth of blood and of course the agonizing cries of the patient whenever the surgeon transgressed to an area which had not been anesthetized.

As my mates crowded around me to get a view of what was going on, my embarrassment started giving way to pride. I started feeling thankful to the surgeon for choosing me to assist him. After all I can proudly say that I assisted a surgeon. The surgery finished, the patient well and fine. As I changed my theater clothes, My phone rung, It was my best friend he asked

"Where were you mate? Iv been trying to get you on call for half an hour!"

I replied with an air of confidence

"Oh dude! Sorry, I was assisting in a surgery you know!".

Dead Darts

Posted by Vaisakh comments (7)

Its been years since I and my twin brother started venturing into the forests of Amazon. We would return only with the tastiest meat for our family to feast upon in the evening. Hunting was a passion for us, while I enjoyed hunting agile targets like rabbits and other small mammals, my brother loved hunting larger prey like the capybara and tapir. We used to hunt in the way that our ancestors taught us, by nailing the animals down with poisoned darts. The Poisoning of arrows or darts is a delicate process and the poison is obtained from the deadly dart frogs, which came in a myriad colors.

The wretched incident took place on a calm evening. The light was fading and we couldn't resist our urge to hunt the best capybara. I shot a fast dart at the target but unfortunately, it hit my beloved brother who was hiding in the bushes. I rushed my brother to the medicine man. By that time, father, and the priest had also gathered there. Our medicines were exclusively obtained from plants, the medicine man did not seem too confident about his efforts or his medicines. So an equivocal decision was taken to give some serious medical attention from the local hospital.

We seldom go to the urban areas, as our ancestors have taught us to live depending only on the forest. I found it extremely uncomfortable wearing the clothes that were provided to me by our elder, Ochai, who was the leader of our clan and who sometimes visited the township. Elder, Me and my brother reached the township after walking for a couple of nights. Our elder was a very eminent person and it was great to see him talk to the doctor in the white peoples language.

Elder conveyed the message that my brothers condition is critical and he had to be shifted a bigger hospital in Manaus as fast as they could. I agreed to go with my brother anywhere, as my brothers life was at jeopardy. The doctor offered me some Cruzados and a pair of clothes [which I hated to put on]. I was told that the funding of our travel and hospital stay will be paid by our elder statesman.

The journey was very hard with brother by my side, wincing in agony. I could see the skin on his back had turned dark purple. we reached Manaus within a few hours and my brother was rushed to the hospital. The doctor took my brother into a closed area and asked me to remain outside [I had hell of a time comprehending the white mans language]. It looked like a totally different world. No signs of green plants or any brimming brooks or any sound of wild animals. Wherever you look you find sick bodies and people covered in white coats.

Soon , the doctor appeared and I saw a man who looked like a fellow Boro accompanying him. The man spoke in our language that my brother had to be kept in observation for a few days. I wondered how I would manage with my sick brother. I spend whole of the time observing the extremely attractive people with fair skin walking to and fro. As I dozed off by my brothers bed side, I was woken up by a group of young, tall white people covered in white coats. I couldn't understand what they spoke. A young masculine boy uncovered my brother and looked at his back while a girl was pressing her fingers against my brothers chest. I found out that the girl was extremely attractive. She realized I was gazing at her and she greeted me with a smile. I returned the smile but with little energy. I pictured her in the Boro costume with huito painted on her face, she would have been the most beautiful girl in our clan. Soon they went away, my thoughts menacingly changed from the ill health of my brother to the girl I saw few minutes back.

Days passed by, Its been almost a week since we arrived at this hospital. My brother rarely spoke anything, I could see drops of tears running down his cheek every now and then. Everyday, I saw the white people, their fascinating style and the beautiful girl whom my mind has been uncontrollably dreaming of. We were given food by the people in white coats, which tasted better than the best of meats we ever hunted. I reflected how helpless we were, caught in a dark world in the forests, without clothes, without hopes, fighting to live, day after day.

Again she came, to press my brothers chest and to hear his heart sounds, I noticed she always stood near an equally good looking white boy which made me envy him. As they looked at each other and cracked jokes and looked at each other lovingly, I wondered if my brother had any benefit from all these rituals. My mind doubted if my brother would live again, if we would be able to hunt again.

Unfortunately,my doubts were to be true. My brother died soon and I felt as if I was left standing all alone in this alien world. I went through what its like to be when you have nobody by your side to console you. The 'Boro' man asked me to leave home with my brothers dead body. Just before leaving, I took one last look at the white people, I saw her, frolicking about with the handsome boy, everyone unperturbed after my beloveds death. 'Maybe the people in white coats didn't have emotions', I reflected. As we reached the township, I saw our elder, completely weak after seeing my brothers corpse. We made our journey back to the forest, carrying the weight of my brothers corpse but with an unbearable lightness haunting my head, a hollow feeling that told that I was all alone in this world.

A Capricious Blunder

Posted by Vaisakh comments (6)

After all the toil and hard work we put in bringing out the medical exhibition, we were delighted in opening it for the public. It was a totally new challenge for many of us, as we have been just getting acquainted with the art of effective communication with the society; a quality we ought to master having to spend our entire lives treating the common mans ailments. I was posted in the Paediatrics stall and was fully relishing it. As it dealt with children, Paediatrics had always attracted me but I had least idea about this department as I had not been posted in the Paediatrics clinics. Nevertheless, I was ready to face the challenge and the fun filled atmosphere around our stall never made me break a sweat worrying about my absolute lack of knowledge in this branch of medicine.

Some half a dozen people came and went by during the initial hour. I was pretty happy explaining about the functioning of some neonatal care devices such as the warmer and the photo therapy unit; something that I had been prepared for, with the help of my seniors.

A middle aged man came in with a pleasant smile, I returned the smile. I prepared myself mentally as I sensed this gentleman was itching to pepper me with some questions. As I fancied that explaining something to him might relieve the slight tension building between us, I started briefing about the importance of a warmer. I could see it in his face that he was least interested in hearing my theory and soon he shot a question which caught me off guard. He asked about the causes of spina bifida and about the role of Folic acid in a pregnant woman. Well I knew this disease, It was basically a congenital anomaly, having defects in the neural tube. Confidently, I started explaining that the disease might be due to teratogenic substances. I also wondered why he asked about folic acid as I told some of the general functions of folic acid that I had learnt in my 1st MBBS. Just then, a final year student entered our stall, so I quickly asked him if I was right. To my horror, I learned that I had mixed it up with the causes of another disease, phocomelia and the correct cause was deficiency of Folic acid.

I was embarrassed. I dared not to look into his face. He turned away from me, murmuring the following words to me under his breath

" My kid died of spina bifida".

I stood there ashamed, my mind scampering for words in return, but in vain.

A Consolatory Rumination.

Posted by Vaisakh comments (8)

May, 2000

It was on a warm Sunday morning that I set out on my brand new 'Hercules MTB'. Don't think I'm boasting but I had the most attractive bicycle in the town; a sleek silver and blue metallic beauty. Naturally, being a youngster, I got carried away by the irresistible urge to show off ( Holy Cow! Now I wonder whom I was so intent on impressing, Even a stray dog wouldn't pass by in the deserted neighborhood of my ancestral house). Yes, so in the midst of the spectacular exhibition of my biking skills, I took a nasty turn with one hand on my bike and the other in thin air. To my dismay, the adrenaline rush was short lived as my forearm was cut by the sharp projecting edge of the fence and I went down with my bicycle to the barren ground. I had bruises all over my body but the cut on my forearm was worst of the lot. Grandmother came shrieking, grabbed me up and pulled me to her bosom. I was crying and grandmother tried her best to comfort me.

Grandfather was quick to react, he set out on foot to our small town Pulappatta, came back with an auto-rickshaw and rushed me to the hospital. En route to hospital, I was regretting my daredevil stunts. Grandmothers presence itself was a great relief.

The doctor was quite adamant on getting my cut stitched. I had overheard this when the doctor was speaking to my Grandpa. I was determined to resist the doctors decision. I would not let him stitch my skin! I cried out again. Grandma came to the rescue. She protested to the doctor, she would not let the doctor hurt me(much to my relief) and finally the doctor gave up. He ordered the nurse to dress my wound and let it heal by itself. The wound handicapped me for almost a couple of weeks. Grandmother did all she could to make me feel comfortable, in fact, I never felt my left hand was weak. The care I got then was overwhelming and is something I will cherish in my whole life.

November, 2010.

I returned to my village from Calicut, hoping to spend a joyous week with my beloved Grandparents. As usual, I found my grandmother waiting for me in the front porch. She greeted me with a rather weak smile and hugged me feebly. As she spoke to me, her voice was quivering. I sensed she was in some agony. She told me she was sick and wanted to go to the hospital. I consoled her with affectionate words and told her to get ready.

It was hard watching my grand mother pack up things, wincing in pain all the time. From the symptoms she told me, I guessed she was suffering from urinary tract infections and cystitis. I could tell the physiology behind the disease but I didn't know the medicines to cure it. I never wished more to be a doctor so that I could treat my Grandma at this very moment.

We reached the hospital in a few hours time and the doctor prescribed medicines and some diagnostic tests. Nevertheless, Grandma continued to be in pain. Neither could I console her the way she did to me ten years ago nor could I intervene in the doctors way to alleviate her pain. I felt helpless and laid all my trust on the doctor and of course, the Almighty. "What is medical science if it fails to relieve a persons mental or physical agony?" I reflected while standing in the veranda of the hospital, my eyes set on Grandma; in obvious distress.

As I glanced at the scar in my left arm, I ruminated upon the care and love she bestowed on me, when I was hurt. Now, that she is sick, there is not much that I can do but to pray and hope for her well being. The scar on my left forearm stays a mark of affection and care she gave me and I'm happy It will live with me till I breathe my last.

Grandmother - by Albert Anker