You need mad people to bring about change. Mad people like PB....who was the Unknown Indian I met in my first year of connectivity. My first and last e-guru. My educator in ' Big, bad and dad world of Internet'. PB is a doctor, and a very angry one at that. And a very successful one at that if it counts. Fighting for a cause still I believe. A Khalsa who is not good looking, ( Unlike what he told me), and who does not wear a pagdi or hold a kirpan. PB is not my father figure, though he is aged rightly to fit into that slot. And his anger has made him run from a number of Esteemed Institutes and throw the resignation letter in the face of some of the most powerful figures in India. I met him during my earliest days on Internet, when I was addicted to chatting. ( Unless specified, when I mention the word 'meet' it usually means to meet over the Net) . And his opening lines were the " I am an Unknown Indian, from Dilli. Not Dilli as in the capital of East Timor silly, but Dilli as in the Capital of India". And the ubiquitous " I know all that needs to be known....." dialogue he kept on telling until he finally revealed his identity months later to me. Don't know why he took to a 18 year old girl then. I would have learnt about Interntet anyways.....I was addicted to the computer to this extent that my computer teacher had asked me if I had done the Revolving Cube in BASIC...a 3-D figure I had done by putting 8 points in 8 circles arranged vertically and running in a loop alternated by 8 dark points in the same position so that the point appeared to shift in 3-D space as the formula took sine-cosine values. He probably took me to guide me through the ' Bad world of Internet Daddies...' , and he did...and a year later, in my 2nd MBBS days, we were chatting like old friends, 19 year old with a 45 year old. He taught me perhaps what I will teach kids, if I ever take up chatting again...Thing is, I am speaking bout his anger now, and my anger, which is the common point I find in us, and some doctors I see around me, who I immediately identify with. I want to tell is the purpose of anger....and how it can be used to build something creative. The chance of meeting one such person early in life is a mere conjecture. His being famous or anything has nothing to do with the story. And its not important to me either. I hardly know a lot of famous people. But what Thats the purpose of internet....You might be Tom Cruise acting as a gay activist talking to a 12 year old in Vietnam, asking him about bombs lying on his backyard, and no one will have a clue. This of, course, excludes the 'Big Bad world on the net....the landmines you should avoid when you walk acros the e-fields...But its necessary to know that there are landmines. And I know them now, to the extent that I will be similarly telling some kid who I might e-educate in the future with his lines..." I know all that needs to be known..." Very corny. And undeniably complacent.
Anyhow the topic is the anger potential that people like him and me carry. My anger that erupts in phases...when my voice slurs, my alae flare and if situation so demands, I cannot rule out a physical reaction...despite being a woman and being fully aware that I am not physically strong or well trained. Its a very very bad situation...for people like us who cannot speak anything but the truth, and worse, cannot stay silent either. I have suffered because of this...Especially in situations when other people have taken me behind screens and asked me why I should bother about certain issues and not let the affected people handle it themselves. More commonly people like me will mostly be laughed at, be scorned and in all probabilities opposed tooth and nail when they want to carry out their ideas, and ridiculed openly when they scorn an idea for some reason.... n most cases, hospitals, industries, states, republics, the faces of these and several others entities have been changed by people who have run them as dictators...with a lot of anger which they channelized positively...creatively, passionately...I am not justifying them who took it to extreme ends...And its also not a fact that continuation of functionality and consolidation and improvisation of gains is done by such people alone....But almost always it takes a mad man to start something that becomes eternal..In setting up anything, anger is a necessary tool...as is jealousy and insecurity...The difference is that it should always point towards the sublime, towards creating something...Crime is almost always involved as well. And dictators don't take much time to turn into despots. Thats when the fall starts..Fuhrer turning Hitler..Neverthless, the face of that enterprise, state, nation or industry is changed like never before. I can vouch that these group of people must have been very sad, very misunderstood, very lonely. Trouble is, they deserve to be. And thats not a presentiment that I try to justify because I identify with these with the worst and most basic of my emotions.... I compare myself ceaselessly with my Senior Resident I adore. I have a voice which when shaken with the temper matches the anger I carry in my genes that had once sent my mother crashing a chair on a table, I manage to send a gang of Jats out of the ward when they have been creating nuisance for a hysterical female. I feel happy to have restored order there. The mob was avoided. there was a reason. But at times I also feel scared that I don't have energy to back it up...And scared i might turn into a martinet. Situations have not gone that out of hand...But there is an underlying component of the realization that I am not soft, or sensitive...the Melanie Ashley kind of woman...I am not the Scarlett type of woman either...I am more like the Ellen O' Hara type of woman..And the Arundhati Roy type of woman who speakes despite being ridiculed...mixed with the Kiran Bedi style....I adoreboth of them. But only upto a point. I don't want to be anyway like them. Period. I carry a lot of anger in my blood..which I hope I will channelize in a good way and do something good for people...I will never be that smart to keep quiet and cover my ass when no one turns up to speak against the system....And I know I will always land in trouble for this..Anyways. Remembering PB of the old days when he used to say he had a lot of it too, when the Hindus ran after him in 1984, and he decided to cut off his beard and hair for good. I saw him years later on a TV channel, fighting against female foeticide, taking on Hinduja and Kamte. I saw the same anger and impertinence we read about...and it was reassuring to know that even higher up, people like us exist...So we are not that abnormal. We belong to that race of people. Its dangerous. And probably harmful in the long term if not matched by physical fitness and mental acuity. But I hope I dont turn out to be that dumb either... To bring about change. And to assure equality of health providence...Someone predicted I will end up being a dictator and will run my family the same way I will run my enterprise. That has subconsciously made me decide I should remain a Unwed Black Widow Spider. Women like us are just professional success stories I guess, if at all. You need additional qualification to be more than just a great friend, excellent conversationalist, travel companion good doctor, administrator etc...Being a homemaker is a very different thing. You cannot run it with everything else and other people on your mind...We don't fit in that category. And perhaps we should best try not to fit. And going by the possibility of the gene I carry from Tiger Mama ( My very handsome late brother of my mother, with blue eyes and an intelligence I have found in very few men till date), I swear I feel threatened at times that my own nerves will give way. Especially with Morning Casualties coming from next week where we will handle them solely on our own. And I will have the added disadvantage of being ECG illiterate, because I plan to stick to my target of not touching a book till my 1st year ends.
Mellowed was the word PB said he had become post Delhi riots and nearly 2 decades of pvt practice...and championing the cause of fight against female foeticide in India. I only sometimes wish I stayed in touch with him, just like AB...my earliest mentors in life. But their success was the key deterrent. I wish to stay anonymous. And since my net awareness made me know these people and I interacted with them to come to a point when I started believing in what they believed in, I have the habit of withdrawing on to myself, and lose people who matter in my life. And I did it then too. To PB, after my computer teacher, I owe my internet sense, and to some extent now, competence. And I plan to take it further as the only hobby I will have. Crashing my computers and building them anew, once the affordability doesn't remain a problem. To PB I also owe the fact that I was never swayed by my academic scores...But that perhaps acted in a wrong way ( My scores are best left unmentioned..all I can say is they were pretty commendable..) Ultimately the disinterest made me commit a fatal error which took me nearly 4 years to recover from, but in any case I am not guilty of any thing. Only one feeling perhaps that had I continued to take my career seriously then when I did not take it, life would perhaps have been be different. My scores needed to be taken seriously. Someone else might have made a gold mine out of them...And I have still not bothered to collect the gold plated ones..Necessarily happier or more fulfilling I cannot tell. But whatever shape my life took on from then, whatever people I chose to be with, whatever emotions I experienced, I became a totally different person than was predicted of me....To the point that now I have a thriving electronic existence beyond my professional life i have nothing else to do or no one else to meet, whats worse, I do not miss the lack....I have lost the power to appreciate normal fun filled movies..or read light romance novels....I am not Kafkaesque, not Ayn Randish....Not Marquezed, or Rushdied.....I am Me. A curious pot pourri of everything with a dollop of confusion. I want to be happy in life...but there are far too may options that make me pleased that it become a problem which one to accord the highest priority to...The movies I see or the books I end up appreciating these days are morose, dark critically acclaimed stuff that do not make any body happier. And while it may be called a certain class in choosing them so it doesn't necessarily enrich life ( Or does it? I do not know it yet) And most of all, it makes you accept and remain undecided about most things in life and not have a definite stand about anything in life....
In any case, I wrote about PB because he will remain one guy who taught me a lesson when we were talking about the Delhi riots..." You will never know what it means to belong to a minority community...So stop theorizing about idealism" I was too young then. He was my counselor in MBBS days, slots my sister or parents could not take, he filled with a lot of ease. And a lot of how I feel today when I cry against the system reminds me of sentences he used to tell then which I did not understand. Though my promise to be able to hack systems still remains a distant dream, may be I will do it someday. And I don't know how to use my anger, especially when my professor is a Gandhibadi who keeps folding hands and giving in to peoples even when they abuse him on the face... when I and a like minded Final Year and Second year are sitting on our haunches to be just summoned to bring back the errant behaviour to a justified end....We are basically the people who run to cover other's asses to get our own feet in mud. And who cannot remain silent and diplomatic but speak at the cost of our reputation ( which almost always gets noted as ugly...because most people do not have the capacity to handle ugly truths about the system about status quo and the need for change.....And in the end, whether we stay Dictators or wisely choose to 'Mellow'...( which I will...I prefer a yellow Mellow to a Fascist, it is a more successful career option...), we are always misinterpreted and misunderstood.
Doesn't make a lot of difference. I will write about it here. And someone who is like me will read and understand what I want to say.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
......R...a..Nd.......o.M
I have a 70 year old man father to a diabetic who we recently amputated because his uncontrolled Diabetes had eaten half his Calcaneum away and the tarsal Osteomyelitis was causing him severe and repeated febrile episodes with nausea and vomiting . This man, a very humble old grampa is always folding his hands despite my repeated reprimands not to do it. You have to see him standing over his 45 year old son as he runs to and fro, sending investigations, receiving them, getting drugs, checking blood sugar, asking me for insulin. The son got the disease despite being educated and having a near respectable job in the State Sugar Mills of Haryana because his 5 daughters meant he had to do overtime and the Government declaring all free medications in the OPD regardless of the disease did not think it was important that his growing Diabetic foot needed some treatment. He was not allowed leave. The rest is the " All izz Well" phenomenon so rampantly bound to the Indian middle class whose only way to confront a tough situation is to reassure their hearts that nothing would go wrong. Well it did.
I never pressed them to go for the amputation. I cannot imagine how hard it must be for a man to decide to let go of one foot. I knew they were sensible enough not to take a LAMA and try desi dawai so eventually they had to come to this. Thats not the point. What is more important is how his father stood by him and worked for him when his temperature was soaring at 104, and he puked anything he took in. When he came around from the anaesthesia, and I was feeling guilty to walk upto them and reassure them that letting go of the foot was the best decision they took under the circumstances, thinking that they would somehow hold me responsible for making him a cripple, the father came with folded hands and started crying. I take some time to interpret emotions these days. I was puzzled whether he was going to accuse me of something but he bent down and was actually going to touch my feet. That made me guiltier than before. I caught him before he could and gave him a big hug. When I walked upto the man he was in his bed and he did the same. I still cannot see anybody cry without tears stinging my own eyes. I know I cannot afford to be this emotional but somehow this does not stop. And I do not know if its double standards because when I have my mood swing days of the month, I am unnecessarily short tempered and erupt like a volcano. In any case, leaving aside my doubtful credentials, I just want to say that I made it a point for the son to know he has such a father who works ceaselessly for him. I compare this to those Ultra VVIPS I sometimes go to treat and I am puzzled why they have to close their eyes and purse their lips before they give an answer to a question. I find nothing intelligent, sensible, wise or knowledgeable in that. More or less, I am trying to find weird idiosyncrasies that strike me as hilarious. Genuineness flows from the eyes of this man I now tease if he forgets to fold his hands before me. and he cringes each time I semi hug him because I am still certain its not a state where affection is interpreted sans gender bias. I remember each time I blast anyone who makes the unfortunate mistake of calling me sister...and I know I can never speak loud to this old man who is a father very few men can be. God be with him. I feel proud to know him.
.............................................................................................................................................................
Revolutionary Road is just the book that tells you how and when things go wrong. I wonder if writers choose to go through this experience so that they can put it down. I hate writers with insight. They make you feel guilty of everything and make you want to turn back the clocks of time. Especially the ones who dont obsess about themselves. Its not the likes of Ayn Rand, whose only example I find in that scene in Dirty Dancing when the heroine stashes the book that her sister's boyfriend gives her when she talks to him about the girl he dumped to get her sister. Self deceit at its highest bizarre best. Richard Yates is brazenly truthful. And you have to have experienced life to know what he is talking about. The other is the dilemma the protagonist faces in My Name is Red. Awesome book. A mother having to choose between two men. She despises one for his weakness but he is a good soul, the other is a criminal but she forces to rethink because he has the resources to bring up her children well. Superbly traces the evolutionary ideas embedded in every woman's psyche. About her not feeling the guilt about calculating up two men and using her charms to match best the guy she thinks can take care of her kids. That every woman has a little bit of a gold digger in her. And worse, that she should have.
.............................................................................................................................................................
I never pressed them to go for the amputation. I cannot imagine how hard it must be for a man to decide to let go of one foot. I knew they were sensible enough not to take a LAMA and try desi dawai so eventually they had to come to this. Thats not the point. What is more important is how his father stood by him and worked for him when his temperature was soaring at 104, and he puked anything he took in. When he came around from the anaesthesia, and I was feeling guilty to walk upto them and reassure them that letting go of the foot was the best decision they took under the circumstances, thinking that they would somehow hold me responsible for making him a cripple, the father came with folded hands and started crying. I take some time to interpret emotions these days. I was puzzled whether he was going to accuse me of something but he bent down and was actually going to touch my feet. That made me guiltier than before. I caught him before he could and gave him a big hug. When I walked upto the man he was in his bed and he did the same. I still cannot see anybody cry without tears stinging my own eyes. I know I cannot afford to be this emotional but somehow this does not stop. And I do not know if its double standards because when I have my mood swing days of the month, I am unnecessarily short tempered and erupt like a volcano. In any case, leaving aside my doubtful credentials, I just want to say that I made it a point for the son to know he has such a father who works ceaselessly for him. I compare this to those Ultra VVIPS I sometimes go to treat and I am puzzled why they have to close their eyes and purse their lips before they give an answer to a question. I find nothing intelligent, sensible, wise or knowledgeable in that. More or less, I am trying to find weird idiosyncrasies that strike me as hilarious. Genuineness flows from the eyes of this man I now tease if he forgets to fold his hands before me. and he cringes each time I semi hug him because I am still certain its not a state where affection is interpreted sans gender bias. I remember each time I blast anyone who makes the unfortunate mistake of calling me sister...and I know I can never speak loud to this old man who is a father very few men can be. God be with him. I feel proud to know him.
.............................................................................................................................................................
Revolutionary Road is just the book that tells you how and when things go wrong. I wonder if writers choose to go through this experience so that they can put it down. I hate writers with insight. They make you feel guilty of everything and make you want to turn back the clocks of time. Especially the ones who dont obsess about themselves. Its not the likes of Ayn Rand, whose only example I find in that scene in Dirty Dancing when the heroine stashes the book that her sister's boyfriend gives her when she talks to him about the girl he dumped to get her sister. Self deceit at its highest bizarre best. Richard Yates is brazenly truthful. And you have to have experienced life to know what he is talking about. The other is the dilemma the protagonist faces in My Name is Red. Awesome book. A mother having to choose between two men. She despises one for his weakness but he is a good soul, the other is a criminal but she forces to rethink because he has the resources to bring up her children well. Superbly traces the evolutionary ideas embedded in every woman's psyche. About her not feeling the guilt about calculating up two men and using her charms to match best the guy she thinks can take care of her kids. That every woman has a little bit of a gold digger in her. And worse, that she should have.
.............................................................................................................................................................
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Feel like Travelling...
I ultimately made a few decisions. Until a few weeks I was held up with the idea that I would visit all the places I could and not read about it from before. ( S had told me the truth about travelling and my status about it in this sentence I will never forget, with a truth that sinks in everyday with more sadness, but there are thousand other things to keep the hope afloat....'The next worst thing about never going to a place you want to is to know everything about it.'...)
Well doesn't matter. I will perhaps be a hippie next birth. (And my dreams of being a Rockstar, a Computer Hacker, a National Geographic Wildlife Photographer, A Royal Bengal Tigress, and marrying the first love of my life will happen in subsequent births, maybe one or two at a time, in no particular order). This birth, even if I don't get time to even move out of my hospital or wherever my profession takes me, I will read about all those places people have gone so far, or that my friends will go. And I will give free advise to all those like me in whitecoats who want to go to just go, pack their bags and freak out...and forget about Traveller's Diarrhoea, Agoraphobia, hygienic foods, distilled water, Cuts and bruises, Soframycin, Sunscreen, Dettol, Cervical Collar, Augmentin, Ofloxacin-Ornidazole, Sporolac, B Complex............
Went to Delhi on a one day trip ( I love going to Delhi alone, be it in freezing winter or torrid Summers, the latter gives me a migraine though.) My professor did not buy that I went to Delhi just to Subscribe to a magazine that I could have easily sent a draft to. However, being as I am, I wanted to see the interiors of Times of India Office. So I decided not to send a draft but to go and give the subscription money personally. Secondly I had a small intention of visiting Nehru Place and seeing what new Computer Peripherals have come, maybe check out the Apple Store at Ansal Plaza, and see the HP pavillion series and inquire about the notebooks Sukumar had told me have thronged US markets. So I packed my bags with cash and nothing else and went. Lonely Planet, a subscription of the Times of India group, has opened its office in Darya Ganj, a little while from the "Lohe ka Pool" in my favorite Chandni Chowk. Bel juice is still not there though, and I did not have time or intrest to try the Shikanji. Opposite Saraswati School, its a pretty Victorian setup with red carpeted stairways that must go back to the Monarchy. Booked my two years subscription, added with it a complimentary subscription of Femina ( I confess to being completely women's/men's magazine illiterate, in my room you will find scores of Computeractive lying about, but this time I decided to change the ambience level) . I found out a series of fantastic shops out there near the office on my way out, Goyal Brothers about foreign languages, The Gyaanpeeth shop where all the books that have got this award from its institution are sold, the Mothership Pustak Mahal, and General Book Depot, which gave me the books I have wanted for a long time now. Fantastic Distributors if you don't belong to the Landmark Shopper category. They are Next level.
Next stop was Gk1 where I took my ritual solitary lunch of noodles with chicken, prawn and Pork...yes the last I nodded my head to this time, all the thinking of all the Neurocysticercosis and trying to imagine how I will look with Post ictal confusion or Todd's Palsy. Lee Gardens is good that way as you wont come with a lot of familiar faces that you will get anytime in Dai Chi in South Ex. The sweetlime soda wasn't sweet, and I am not so old and single to be drinking...Shopped a bit, on a whim went back all the way to Chandni Chowk to get the books ( Will write about it later), it was nearing 7 when I got out of the book shop, loaded with books, trousers and a Chicken Roll from DePaul's for dinner...caught the bus to Rohtak...and came back to my world.
I think I am quite happy with my life. Yes the punctuations of sadness are not commas or fullstops but perhaps run a little longer to the tune of something like this......But who cares. I know what I am, I am reasonably satisfied with my stamina, I think I am honest and work hard. I am one very angry woman though. You have to see me to believe me. And a lot of that anger comes from a lot a hurt doubtless plus the lack of fear. I don't think I fear anything anymore..anything except all the reserves I keep for a few loved ones. I travel safe. and I believe that more or less, a girl can stay safe if she chooses to be sensible and sharp. And by God's grace I have mostly been safe. Even as a resident of the country's undoubtedly most masculine/chauvinistic state. I not just survive, I live. My life is at the moment contended with this. Other things don't matter. Other things I will learn with time. Other things I will perhaps want with time. But now is not the time for them.
I am firm about this. I am happy as a Lonely traveller in perhaps a Planet that is lonely. But I am sometimes sad, sometimes happy and mostly thinking and introspective in my Bus rides. I do not know how much company I would want and basically I am also at a hilarious loss who would like to give me company in my mad errands. And its perfectly okay. The solitude is irreplacable. Hence my Delhi sojourns will always be like this, and I will keep my Professor guessing what I go to Delhi for. I will still mostly be teary eyed at Red Fort, and a little teary eyed at one or two part of the journey. And smile for quite a great length of time. Thats the sad dots versus the happy sentence story. Sentences outweigh the dots. All the trips I take alone are formative experiences of my life I will always remember and cherish. I only request God to keep me safe against those I may fail to defend myself. Nothing else matters.
Well doesn't matter. I will perhaps be a hippie next birth. (And my dreams of being a Rockstar, a Computer Hacker, a National Geographic Wildlife Photographer, A Royal Bengal Tigress, and marrying the first love of my life will happen in subsequent births, maybe one or two at a time, in no particular order). This birth, even if I don't get time to even move out of my hospital or wherever my profession takes me, I will read about all those places people have gone so far, or that my friends will go. And I will give free advise to all those like me in whitecoats who want to go to just go, pack their bags and freak out...and forget about Traveller's Diarrhoea, Agoraphobia, hygienic foods, distilled water, Cuts and bruises, Soframycin, Sunscreen, Dettol, Cervical Collar, Augmentin, Ofloxacin-Ornidazole, Sporolac, B Complex............
Went to Delhi on a one day trip ( I love going to Delhi alone, be it in freezing winter or torrid Summers, the latter gives me a migraine though.) My professor did not buy that I went to Delhi just to Subscribe to a magazine that I could have easily sent a draft to. However, being as I am, I wanted to see the interiors of Times of India Office. So I decided not to send a draft but to go and give the subscription money personally. Secondly I had a small intention of visiting Nehru Place and seeing what new Computer Peripherals have come, maybe check out the Apple Store at Ansal Plaza, and see the HP pavillion series and inquire about the notebooks Sukumar had told me have thronged US markets. So I packed my bags with cash and nothing else and went. Lonely Planet, a subscription of the Times of India group, has opened its office in Darya Ganj, a little while from the "Lohe ka Pool" in my favorite Chandni Chowk. Bel juice is still not there though, and I did not have time or intrest to try the Shikanji. Opposite Saraswati School, its a pretty Victorian setup with red carpeted stairways that must go back to the Monarchy. Booked my two years subscription, added with it a complimentary subscription of Femina ( I confess to being completely women's/men's magazine illiterate, in my room you will find scores of Computeractive lying about, but this time I decided to change the ambience level) . I found out a series of fantastic shops out there near the office on my way out, Goyal Brothers about foreign languages, The Gyaanpeeth shop where all the books that have got this award from its institution are sold, the Mothership Pustak Mahal, and General Book Depot, which gave me the books I have wanted for a long time now. Fantastic Distributors if you don't belong to the Landmark Shopper category. They are Next level.
Next stop was Gk1 where I took my ritual solitary lunch of noodles with chicken, prawn and Pork...yes the last I nodded my head to this time, all the thinking of all the Neurocysticercosis and trying to imagine how I will look with Post ictal confusion or Todd's Palsy. Lee Gardens is good that way as you wont come with a lot of familiar faces that you will get anytime in Dai Chi in South Ex. The sweetlime soda wasn't sweet, and I am not so old and single to be drinking...Shopped a bit, on a whim went back all the way to Chandni Chowk to get the books ( Will write about it later), it was nearing 7 when I got out of the book shop, loaded with books, trousers and a Chicken Roll from DePaul's for dinner...caught the bus to Rohtak...and came back to my world.
I think I am quite happy with my life. Yes the punctuations of sadness are not commas or fullstops but perhaps run a little longer to the tune of something like this......But who cares. I know what I am, I am reasonably satisfied with my stamina, I think I am honest and work hard. I am one very angry woman though. You have to see me to believe me. And a lot of that anger comes from a lot a hurt doubtless plus the lack of fear. I don't think I fear anything anymore..anything except all the reserves I keep for a few loved ones. I travel safe. and I believe that more or less, a girl can stay safe if she chooses to be sensible and sharp. And by God's grace I have mostly been safe. Even as a resident of the country's undoubtedly most masculine/chauvinistic state. I not just survive, I live. My life is at the moment contended with this. Other things don't matter. Other things I will learn with time. Other things I will perhaps want with time. But now is not the time for them.
I am firm about this. I am happy as a Lonely traveller in perhaps a Planet that is lonely. But I am sometimes sad, sometimes happy and mostly thinking and introspective in my Bus rides. I do not know how much company I would want and basically I am also at a hilarious loss who would like to give me company in my mad errands. And its perfectly okay. The solitude is irreplacable. Hence my Delhi sojourns will always be like this, and I will keep my Professor guessing what I go to Delhi for. I will still mostly be teary eyed at Red Fort, and a little teary eyed at one or two part of the journey. And smile for quite a great length of time. Thats the sad dots versus the happy sentence story. Sentences outweigh the dots. All the trips I take alone are formative experiences of my life I will always remember and cherish. I only request God to keep me safe against those I may fail to defend myself. Nothing else matters.
COLDPLAY
In a long long time, I a now got a song I can listen in a loop and not get bored...Dont Panic ( Its a beautiful world) by Coldplay.....Totally replaced Hotel California. Even if the comments on Youtube is at its hilarious best. Love this song. Thinking about this, perhaps its time that I write about all the songs I have listened and adored for the last 4 years that I have listened to them.
Trouble is an Exceptional song. The trouble is the Youtube videos where you see the songs synced with the movie Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. It has perhaps the best piano startup ( and I will be damned if I get to know it was played on a Synthsizer). The lyrics as always is simple and soulful, and Chris Martin plays it with his characteristic incomprehensible accent. The music is so out of sync with each other, if you listen carefully, you will see the Piano, the lead instrument and the most profound of them all, plays with a tune that neither matches the drums nor the voice or lyrics of the vocalist itself. But if you listen to the music with a pair of headphones on, (and after you know what Chris is saying, from Google), the song will sweep you off its feet. ( I haven't caught the meaning of the video yet, its shot in Black and white and unless I look for the meaning of the video on Google, I am decided I wont get it)
The Scientist is totally unconmparable. You talk about lyrics, or you talk about the video, everything about it is perfect. Perhaps next to Elvis, Chris Martin has the sexiest voice on earth. Incredibly lazy ( Such a Rush), poignant ( The Scientist), reproachful ( Trouble), incisive ( Swallowd in the Sea) and full of love and soul ( most of them). The Scientist will hit you best if you are a someone who has loved and lost. Just like Pink Floyd wants to make you drunk.
Swallowed in the Sea was a one time favorite when I was in my self-incarcerating mood of letters and writers. I now dont listen to it that much, not because the song did not live upto its reputation, but perhaps rather because the person who was responsible for my loving the song did not ultimately keep my faith alive. And anyways things have now been swallowed up by the Sea.
Yellow was never a big hit with me. The only Rock I guess I would enjoy are Elvis or whatever alternate genre Pink Floyd fits into. All I can say is that you can never say that if Coldplay releases an album, one or two of them are bound to get eternal. Its not all punk or sex or drugs that Rappers hiphop the generation to. I never needed Fix You to lift my mood, but I get incredibly sad with Trouble and The Scientist. And Beautiful world ( Don't panic) is a song that gets a smile on my lips anytime, anyday.
I hope they make more songs like this till eternity.
Trouble is an Exceptional song. The trouble is the Youtube videos where you see the songs synced with the movie Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. It has perhaps the best piano startup ( and I will be damned if I get to know it was played on a Synthsizer). The lyrics as always is simple and soulful, and Chris Martin plays it with his characteristic incomprehensible accent. The music is so out of sync with each other, if you listen carefully, you will see the Piano, the lead instrument and the most profound of them all, plays with a tune that neither matches the drums nor the voice or lyrics of the vocalist itself. But if you listen to the music with a pair of headphones on, (and after you know what Chris is saying, from Google), the song will sweep you off its feet. ( I haven't caught the meaning of the video yet, its shot in Black and white and unless I look for the meaning of the video on Google, I am decided I wont get it)
The Scientist is totally unconmparable. You talk about lyrics, or you talk about the video, everything about it is perfect. Perhaps next to Elvis, Chris Martin has the sexiest voice on earth. Incredibly lazy ( Such a Rush), poignant ( The Scientist), reproachful ( Trouble), incisive ( Swallowd in the Sea) and full of love and soul ( most of them). The Scientist will hit you best if you are a someone who has loved and lost. Just like Pink Floyd wants to make you drunk.
Swallowed in the Sea was a one time favorite when I was in my self-incarcerating mood of letters and writers. I now dont listen to it that much, not because the song did not live upto its reputation, but perhaps rather because the person who was responsible for my loving the song did not ultimately keep my faith alive. And anyways things have now been swallowed up by the Sea.
Yellow was never a big hit with me. The only Rock I guess I would enjoy are Elvis or whatever alternate genre Pink Floyd fits into. All I can say is that you can never say that if Coldplay releases an album, one or two of them are bound to get eternal. Its not all punk or sex or drugs that Rappers hiphop the generation to. I never needed Fix You to lift my mood, but I get incredibly sad with Trouble and The Scientist. And Beautiful world ( Don't panic) is a song that gets a smile on my lips anytime, anyday.
I hope they make more songs like this till eternity.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
TARGETTED INTERVENTIONS
If you want to do something, don't be a fool and say it aloud. Ten people will jump and try to oppose you. Twenty people will rope in and challenge if you really want to do good to other people. And you will be lucky if anyone at all will believe that you have no self interest in it. I learnt my first lesson in management here. That people do not choose to concern themselves with clinical diagnosis and dispensing the best cure to the most needed. A triage method is required. I am firmly convinced that 100 percent treatment to even 40 percent people is far superior than 20 percent treatment to all the patients. Benefits outweigh the guilt. But it needs grit, and a tremendous amount of knowledge, and an even bigger amount of guts. To say no.
As a tertiary center, if we treat pateints with geriatric debility and UTI, for every unstable angina that turns out to be an ischiorectal abscess, for a LBBB 2 years old, for a patient with CVA 7 days back who comes walking to the emergency, for a liver abscess whose size is decreasing, I fail to understand where kindness is involved, especially when the people who admit these patients do not come to see the patient even once. If we had 5 first years to deal with this, it would be okay, if we had 60 beds instead of 30, it would be welcome, trouble is we have 30 beds with 20 patients anytime, and post emergency if 20 odd patients are discharged without a single work up ( wait, the reports are sent the morning itself, no workup has been done from the emergency despite the card saying so...), there is something to think about...Especially...
When we cannot save a patient with Nephrotic syndrome who is having seizures, a patient of septicaemia who could not be saved...A CKD patient who could not be dialysed on time, whose Dialysis Disequilibrium could not be diagnosed, or if diagnosed, could not be treated.
I am not against hard work. I have my left ankle swollen twice its normal size and no one but my SR knows about this. I have promised myself not to touch books but to spend every time possible to finish the work up of my patients. From posture change, to Ryle's tube feeding to Physiotherapy to Fundus, they get it all. And my Co-PG works hard as well. But I dont want to run for a open Koch's patient with hemoptysis while my Nephrotic Syndrome dies. I cannot adjust to this fact that her death can be dispensible. That a CVT patient should die. I do not want to waste my time on these people who have a different ward to be admitted, different set of doctors looking after them, and different level of isolation that cannot be practised in my ward.
I am not sure if people share the same views. I am not sure if I have the back up. Here people are so engrossed in the status quo for several reasons that it is difficult to convince them that even as an outsider you think about their good only. And they would take it as an excuse for inaction. Forget the fact that I exist in a vacuum personal life, do not socialize, do not take leaves, and do not loaf around.
This and a number of other incidents have only confirmed my belief that instead of pointing fingers at others, the best thing that you can do is to get to a position where people will listen to you, and then do what you believe in. Its a waste, to write about it.
Acquiring the feathers has already begun. The wings will take shape in some time. At least my Juniors will not have patients coughing Mycobacterium tuberculosis into their mouths, or worry about the diagnosis. This is a promise.
As a tertiary center, if we treat pateints with geriatric debility and UTI, for every unstable angina that turns out to be an ischiorectal abscess, for a LBBB 2 years old, for a patient with CVA 7 days back who comes walking to the emergency, for a liver abscess whose size is decreasing, I fail to understand where kindness is involved, especially when the people who admit these patients do not come to see the patient even once. If we had 5 first years to deal with this, it would be okay, if we had 60 beds instead of 30, it would be welcome, trouble is we have 30 beds with 20 patients anytime, and post emergency if 20 odd patients are discharged without a single work up ( wait, the reports are sent the morning itself, no workup has been done from the emergency despite the card saying so...), there is something to think about...Especially...
When we cannot save a patient with Nephrotic syndrome who is having seizures, a patient of septicaemia who could not be saved...A CKD patient who could not be dialysed on time, whose Dialysis Disequilibrium could not be diagnosed, or if diagnosed, could not be treated.
I am not against hard work. I have my left ankle swollen twice its normal size and no one but my SR knows about this. I have promised myself not to touch books but to spend every time possible to finish the work up of my patients. From posture change, to Ryle's tube feeding to Physiotherapy to Fundus, they get it all. And my Co-PG works hard as well. But I dont want to run for a open Koch's patient with hemoptysis while my Nephrotic Syndrome dies. I cannot adjust to this fact that her death can be dispensible. That a CVT patient should die. I do not want to waste my time on these people who have a different ward to be admitted, different set of doctors looking after them, and different level of isolation that cannot be practised in my ward.
I am not sure if people share the same views. I am not sure if I have the back up. Here people are so engrossed in the status quo for several reasons that it is difficult to convince them that even as an outsider you think about their good only. And they would take it as an excuse for inaction. Forget the fact that I exist in a vacuum personal life, do not socialize, do not take leaves, and do not loaf around.
This and a number of other incidents have only confirmed my belief that instead of pointing fingers at others, the best thing that you can do is to get to a position where people will listen to you, and then do what you believe in. Its a waste, to write about it.
Acquiring the feathers has already begun. The wings will take shape in some time. At least my Juniors will not have patients coughing Mycobacterium tuberculosis into their mouths, or worry about the diagnosis. This is a promise.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
How much do things really matter?
That you lost your pet you loved?
That you cannot work as hard as you want to?
That you cannot reverse time?
That you can never visit all the places you read about?
That your computer speed does not exceed 11 kbps?
That your biggest fear is that someone will take you to be weak because you are a woman?
That your husband has been cheating on you?
That you can neither live with or without your love?
That you can never walk on stilletoes?
That the chicken was undercooked on your Bosses' lunch?
That the only thing other 'women' ask you when they know you are Computer literate is whether you have seen Pornography.
Yet the first thing they ask you to teach them is to open a chat-id, or a marriage matrimonial.
That you work hard but your Boss never gets to know it because someone else gets the credit?
That people judge you by the anger with which you erupt, which is just a vent for the hurt you have inside?
That you feel is a disadvantage because you can never wear spaghetti tops or embrace people and air kiss?
That you caught your own boyfriend/husband cheat on you while you remained faithful?
That you realize that you cannot be the actor/dancer/doctor you wanted to be?
Or that people assume that if you have had a lover, you must have necessarily been physical with him.
Or worse, that you realize that you do not want to be the actor/doctor/dancer you thought you wanted to be...
That people take your independence for aggressiveness.
That you depend on your husband to provide for you and your kids because no one ever taught you in your family.
That people do not know how hard it has been for you.
And worst, they do not want to know.
That people do not listen to you...
That your kids once betrayed you,
That the person you loved the most in your life never hesitated to find the smallest fault about you...
That your husband beat you to pulp each time he was on a high...
That your studies were discontinued because your parents could provide for just one education and it had to be your brother.
That when your husband left you, his brother wanted you to be his mistress.
And the 'Women' in your family sided with him because they thought you really lacked some character because your husband left you.
That you fell in love with a man you knew did not want to be committed.
That you cried into the morning until your eyes wouldn't open because the lids were so swollen.
That you grew so strong out of situations that you became a man-eater.
That you grew so weak out of fear you stopped talk normally.
That you loved him so much that you thought he should actually go away from you and find better people and better surroundings.
And, when he did, you wanted him back.
That you carry his slap marks to office but say you fell down the stairs.
That you lead the world but when it comes to that one person, you are always the doormat.
That you can never bake that cake, and the rice is always half cooked.
That you are a tall woman, but you are not strong.
That career became secondary when it shouldn't have.
And became Primary when it shouldn't be.
That you feel fat, out of shape, unintelligent, and unattractive.
That you shun parties but desperately want someone to open the door with a smile when you return from work.
That you open the door for someone, smiling.
That you cannot be the person he wanted you to be.
That you think the reason people might not fall in love with you is because you are ugly.
That he fell out of love while you couldn't.
That you want 3 kids and 2 dogs and 1 husband who loves you and a house to live in, and food to eat.
But you know you can never get to have that either.
That your kids stopped respecting you because you could not stand upto them.
That you fell out of love with the man you married.
That your body stopped taking your mind's orders.
That you are too intelligent for your own good.
That you have a dictatorial streak in you, which if unleashed, would be very destructive.
That you read too much stuff, know too much stuff, and imagine too much stuff. But when it comes to doing, saying, or believing, you withdraw.
That you are getting stretch marks and crow's feet.
That one bad experience with a husband or love keeps you away from a lifetime of it.
That you choose a path out of forced conviction.
That you don't believe in your work.
That you sometimes don't believe in your Boss.
That you, as a woman, have too much nerve for the unnecessary;
and none for the necessary.
That you can never fall out of love,
so that you can fall in again.
Worse that you don't want to fall at all.
Because the only thing you aim is on a Rise.
That you realize true love and honesty are overrated. People claim they believe in it but don't.
That you realize faith is grossly overreported. People are not as simple as you take them to be.
That every other day, you see his pictures on the Net or the paper, pasted to some other woman's arms.
That you hate working through your Dysmenorrhoea but cannot afford to.
That you are labelled a bad woman because you always speak the truth.
That you are laughed at because you cant adjust to lesser minds.
That people don't believe that you seriously don't think about them.
That you dread going in buses because you have a lot of hands sneaking up to you, and you cannot retort or act back.
That you are an intimidatingly creative conversationalist.
That there is not one man you met who wouldn't lap himself up with his insecurities.
That you, like the true Dictator, " Want to change the entire System"
But like KB, have to face it the most from the ones who say they respect you.
That the more you are convinced about the fact that you will stay alone, the more you fear it.
That you realize it is too far out that you will live with somebody.
That you lost your child and will never be pregnant again.
That you know you will never become the Person you always wanted to be.
That even as a woman, you cannot see someone cry and not have tears sting your face.
That your Boyfriend left you because he did not have the guts to take care of you.
That every time you see a man mistreat a woman, you feel physically abusive.
Because you saw those marks on your friend's wrists. Or he told you his dad abused his mom and he can never think straight again.
That you are not sure you know what you want.
That you cannot forget the past.
That you cannot start a future.
And numerous other things.......
But does it matter?
If you know you have been honest to your core.
That you work as hard as you can and stayed true to yourself.
That you still smile when you see any baby on the road.
And that you cry when you see any baby smile at you.
That despite knowing your limitations of age, sex, you work hard.
That at 60, you work harder than most 20 year olds.
That you know your kids love you.
Close your eyes. You are what you are.
That you know you are not dependent on anyone, just because he brings home the moolah. You run the house.
Or that you dream of hoarding money for no one to share it with.
So while you cannot be all you want to be,
You still smile with a smile that reaches your eyes.
You still love the man who has long gone from your life.
And while one part of you is hurt, you still derive happiness from the fact that he is happy.
And you got yourself a new pet and named him Lui the 17th.
And you are learning to cook.
And you are generally filled with hope and optimism.
That every time someone blesses you, you are actually that silly that you carry over those blessings for your family and the man you have always loved somewhere in the innermost depths of your heart.
And you smile when you see leaves rustle, kids smile, young girls run to meet their loves.
And that you believe in Faith, Love and Truth, despite them deceiving you in your lifetime.
And you understand that while you cannot be innocent of everything, or that you cannot turn back the time there is one thing you can be that few others can be.
That is, that you are true.
To yourself, and to those who dare to see beneath that veneer.
And its not necessary to turn Time back.
Life goes on. Its as simple as that.
Whether you can face yourself at the end of the day or not is the entire story.
The end is that you are Beautiful. And you have to know it for yourself.
Stand up for yourself. If not you, it will help countless others to stand up too.
AND ULTIMATELY, THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS.
HAPPY WOMEN'S DAY
( Just to mention one occasion)
That you cannot work as hard as you want to?
That you cannot reverse time?
That you can never visit all the places you read about?
That your computer speed does not exceed 11 kbps?
That your biggest fear is that someone will take you to be weak because you are a woman?
That your husband has been cheating on you?
That you can neither live with or without your love?
That you can never walk on stilletoes?
That the chicken was undercooked on your Bosses' lunch?
That the only thing other 'women' ask you when they know you are Computer literate is whether you have seen Pornography.
Yet the first thing they ask you to teach them is to open a chat-id, or a marriage matrimonial.
That you work hard but your Boss never gets to know it because someone else gets the credit?
That people judge you by the anger with which you erupt, which is just a vent for the hurt you have inside?
That you feel is a disadvantage because you can never wear spaghetti tops or embrace people and air kiss?
That you caught your own boyfriend/husband cheat on you while you remained faithful?
That you realize that you cannot be the actor/dancer/doctor you wanted to be?
Or that people assume that if you have had a lover, you must have necessarily been physical with him.
Or worse, that you realize that you do not want to be the actor/doctor/dancer you thought you wanted to be...
That people take your independence for aggressiveness.
That you depend on your husband to provide for you and your kids because no one ever taught you in your family.
That people do not know how hard it has been for you.
And worst, they do not want to know.
That people do not listen to you...
That your kids once betrayed you,
That the person you loved the most in your life never hesitated to find the smallest fault about you...
That your husband beat you to pulp each time he was on a high...
That your studies were discontinued because your parents could provide for just one education and it had to be your brother.
That when your husband left you, his brother wanted you to be his mistress.
And the 'Women' in your family sided with him because they thought you really lacked some character because your husband left you.
That you fell in love with a man you knew did not want to be committed.
That you cried into the morning until your eyes wouldn't open because the lids were so swollen.
That you grew so strong out of situations that you became a man-eater.
That you grew so weak out of fear you stopped talk normally.
That you loved him so much that you thought he should actually go away from you and find better people and better surroundings.
And, when he did, you wanted him back.
That you carry his slap marks to office but say you fell down the stairs.
That you lead the world but when it comes to that one person, you are always the doormat.
That you can never bake that cake, and the rice is always half cooked.
That you are a tall woman, but you are not strong.
That career became secondary when it shouldn't have.
And became Primary when it shouldn't be.
That you feel fat, out of shape, unintelligent, and unattractive.
That you shun parties but desperately want someone to open the door with a smile when you return from work.
That you open the door for someone, smiling.
That you cannot be the person he wanted you to be.
That you think the reason people might not fall in love with you is because you are ugly.
That he fell out of love while you couldn't.
That you want 3 kids and 2 dogs and 1 husband who loves you and a house to live in, and food to eat.
But you know you can never get to have that either.
That your kids stopped respecting you because you could not stand upto them.
That you fell out of love with the man you married.
That your body stopped taking your mind's orders.
That you are too intelligent for your own good.
That you have a dictatorial streak in you, which if unleashed, would be very destructive.
That you read too much stuff, know too much stuff, and imagine too much stuff. But when it comes to doing, saying, or believing, you withdraw.
That you are getting stretch marks and crow's feet.
That one bad experience with a husband or love keeps you away from a lifetime of it.
That you choose a path out of forced conviction.
That you don't believe in your work.
That you sometimes don't believe in your Boss.
That you, as a woman, have too much nerve for the unnecessary;
and none for the necessary.
That you can never fall out of love,
so that you can fall in again.
Worse that you don't want to fall at all.
Because the only thing you aim is on a Rise.
That you realize true love and honesty are overrated. People claim they believe in it but don't.
That you realize faith is grossly overreported. People are not as simple as you take them to be.
That every other day, you see his pictures on the Net or the paper, pasted to some other woman's arms.
That you hate working through your Dysmenorrhoea but cannot afford to.
That you are labelled a bad woman because you always speak the truth.
That you are laughed at because you cant adjust to lesser minds.
That people don't believe that you seriously don't think about them.
That you dread going in buses because you have a lot of hands sneaking up to you, and you cannot retort or act back.
That you are an intimidatingly creative conversationalist.
That there is not one man you met who wouldn't lap himself up with his insecurities.
That you, like the true Dictator, " Want to change the entire System"
But like KB, have to face it the most from the ones who say they respect you.
That the more you are convinced about the fact that you will stay alone, the more you fear it.
That you realize it is too far out that you will live with somebody.
That you lost your child and will never be pregnant again.
That you know you will never become the Person you always wanted to be.
That even as a woman, you cannot see someone cry and not have tears sting your face.
That your Boyfriend left you because he did not have the guts to take care of you.
That every time you see a man mistreat a woman, you feel physically abusive.
Because you saw those marks on your friend's wrists. Or he told you his dad abused his mom and he can never think straight again.
That you are not sure you know what you want.
That you cannot forget the past.
That you cannot start a future.
And numerous other things.......
But does it matter?
If you know you have been honest to your core.
That you work as hard as you can and stayed true to yourself.
That you still smile when you see any baby on the road.
And that you cry when you see any baby smile at you.
That despite knowing your limitations of age, sex, you work hard.
That at 60, you work harder than most 20 year olds.
That you know your kids love you.
Close your eyes. You are what you are.
That you know you are not dependent on anyone, just because he brings home the moolah. You run the house.
Or that you dream of hoarding money for no one to share it with.
So while you cannot be all you want to be,
You still smile with a smile that reaches your eyes.
You still love the man who has long gone from your life.
And while one part of you is hurt, you still derive happiness from the fact that he is happy.
And you got yourself a new pet and named him Lui the 17th.
And you are learning to cook.
And you are generally filled with hope and optimism.
That every time someone blesses you, you are actually that silly that you carry over those blessings for your family and the man you have always loved somewhere in the innermost depths of your heart.
And you smile when you see leaves rustle, kids smile, young girls run to meet their loves.
And that you believe in Faith, Love and Truth, despite them deceiving you in your lifetime.
And you understand that while you cannot be innocent of everything, or that you cannot turn back the time there is one thing you can be that few others can be.
That is, that you are true.
To yourself, and to those who dare to see beneath that veneer.
And its not necessary to turn Time back.
Life goes on. Its as simple as that.
Whether you can face yourself at the end of the day or not is the entire story.
The end is that you are Beautiful. And you have to know it for yourself.
Stand up for yourself. If not you, it will help countless others to stand up too.
AND ULTIMATELY, THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS.
HAPPY WOMEN'S DAY
( Just to mention one occasion)
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Photographs........
Night Photography, Rohtak Campus...
its not Maple...
Lone deciduous tree, Rohtak Spring. During my first night sojourn through the city on foot with a junior....
Rohtak Campus in the morning....
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Gopal - I
Gopal- A photographer in Rohtak went on a binge drinking spree and landed up in a coma with left sided hemiparesis. His multiple seizures were difficult to control and a CT Scan revealed multiple hemorrhagic infarcts as well as blood in the Sulci. This combination of a Cerebral Venous Thrombosis with a Sub-arachnoid Infarction has been reported rarely. However, his main problem was not this condition which was easily identified by my SR and treatment started soon enough. He had a festering bedsore in his back which was gnawing into his muscles for the lack of proper Nursing care which is at its apathetic least in India. A combination of Sumag, Betadine, and Listerine and some really harsh words from my side stopped his mother from pouring water into the throat of his bed ridden son who was aspirating every drop.His survival was possible also for his grit which he demonstrated in abundance even then, when I always asked him to lift his bad hand with his good, and took his BP in the paralysed hand....
I am glad I was a part of this survival story. Promila, I could not save, for several reasons. I was lacking the knowledge of patient anagement and like most colleges in India, Rohtak has no accountability, the whole ward being left to first years, who manage it with their limited skills.
Monday, March 8, 2010
In a Nutshell.........
A lot of things are left out lest I forgot to put them up...The double emergency went well, with just 21 admissions. With 64 admissions that Black Wednesday, I am prepared to handle every Enteric Fever, CVA, ARDS, or Unstable Angina that turns out to be Meningitis, Dyselectrolemia, Bronchitis or Gastritis. And with seats nearly doubling this year, I am happy I am getting two Bacche that I will be very happy to keep them working for causes they believe they make a difference to. Baljeet, the Pancreatitis guy expired. His attendants had come to return the drugs I had gone on to make freely available to them. Only confirms the belief that we should not admit patients who we cannot promise a cure. 18 days of any treatment culminating to a death is worse than murder by negligence. While all this time the patient could have gone and shown himself to a Surgeon and got himself cured.
Am yet to check my Internet connection which has made it impossible for me to download Oxford's Book of Medicine ( to be read by my Posterity, or buried alongside my dead
body in my External Hard Drives, considering the hectic schedule 9/V has been, still I am not complaining.
And I miss Cuttack. Am still unable to bring myself to write about it. maybe I will write, in glimpses...I am going there, and in the Monsoon. and return will hopefully mark a trip to Ladakh if god permits plans to go through...
Am about to present a paper, hopefully, a diagnosis first made by me, which my Professor is still upholding, happens to be a Cold Abscess of the Sternum. But my Internet is not cooperating at all with connecting to the links it provides on Google.
Also, something snapped my life into its place, for which I am grateful in conclusion. I saw what I was supposed to see long back. It has grounded me, and its a piece of life I will never forget till the end of days. Additionally, I have tried to be less confused about the same and now, going on about life will be much more sedated.
The most amazing thing about this was that, about this thing as well, I first dreamt about. I wish I have this intuition when it comes to patients...It wouldn't at least make me wake up in tears.
Trying to down the book Revolutionary Road and the Movie Gatacca, but I have been too tired for the same. Next Emergency is Wednesday and there the criteria will not exist not to admit hemodynamically stable patients. Considering that, am confident, we will have 40 patients each of whom we treat 50 percent rather than 25 percent each of whom receive 80 percent....
Only 3 months left to change it. Too much chaos. And very indisciplined taking advantage of a Professor who is benevolent to a greater extent..an extent that proves detrimental to the patients in the long run. And a SR who is a gem of a person but cannot say a word to those who defy her. half the time I stand up for her. My SR, also my Senior from SCB, is a very good Doctor and human being, whose delicateness is at times the cause of my envy, at times the cause of my pity. And a voice that can put the angriest Dragoness of Netherworld to sleep....But more about all that later...I am about to catch some well deserved sleep...Hopefully I will be up in the night to write about the latest movie, The Hurt Locker.
Am yet to check my Internet connection which has made it impossible for me to download Oxford's Book of Medicine ( to be read by my Posterity, or buried alongside my dead
body in my External Hard Drives, considering the hectic schedule 9/V has been, still I am not complaining.
And I miss Cuttack. Am still unable to bring myself to write about it. maybe I will write, in glimpses...I am going there, and in the Monsoon. and return will hopefully mark a trip to Ladakh if god permits plans to go through...
Am about to present a paper, hopefully, a diagnosis first made by me, which my Professor is still upholding, happens to be a Cold Abscess of the Sternum. But my Internet is not cooperating at all with connecting to the links it provides on Google.
Also, something snapped my life into its place, for which I am grateful in conclusion. I saw what I was supposed to see long back. It has grounded me, and its a piece of life I will never forget till the end of days. Additionally, I have tried to be less confused about the same and now, going on about life will be much more sedated.
The most amazing thing about this was that, about this thing as well, I first dreamt about. I wish I have this intuition when it comes to patients...It wouldn't at least make me wake up in tears.
Trying to down the book Revolutionary Road and the Movie Gatacca, but I have been too tired for the same. Next Emergency is Wednesday and there the criteria will not exist not to admit hemodynamically stable patients. Considering that, am confident, we will have 40 patients each of whom we treat 50 percent rather than 25 percent each of whom receive 80 percent....
Only 3 months left to change it. Too much chaos. And very indisciplined taking advantage of a Professor who is benevolent to a greater extent..an extent that proves detrimental to the patients in the long run. And a SR who is a gem of a person but cannot say a word to those who defy her. half the time I stand up for her. My SR, also my Senior from SCB, is a very good Doctor and human being, whose delicateness is at times the cause of my envy, at times the cause of my pity. And a voice that can put the angriest Dragoness of Netherworld to sleep....But more about all that later...I am about to catch some well deserved sleep...Hopefully I will be up in the night to write about the latest movie, The Hurt Locker.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Straight from 36 hours
All that you do is sleep. The way mind gets disoriented, and how the steps lag. the mess that your room is in, your clothes dirty, the only saving grace so far is the weather, for its still cool....
Life is good. You do your work, and don't have much time to think about things. You don't worry that you are out of touch with reality, you don't get time to wake up at your own free will and decide what to do with the remaining hours of the day, you don't get to read a newspaper, or if you do, its hurried look-over of the contents. You have never been to a Parlour to do more than a haircut doesn't bother you because you don't seek a society that has a lot of well tended to women. The basic amenities, the ablutions, are met and forgotten. Rest of the day is a long fight to seek the rights of " My Patient".
Life is good. That you pack in so much of other people in your lives, that it doesn't matter if your own life is a vacuum. A Cipher. I look forward to this time when I walk from the Ward and enter my room and be myself. Whether it means collapsing on the bed with the Blogger on or checking my Bittorrent Speed every 5 minutes.
Life is also good because even if you meet people who have not been to one hundredth the places some of your highly placed, variedly been friends have been, you still respect their simplicity, even their innocence, and their innate tendency to accept. And work without questioning.
I am worse of the lot, because I have questions I will never have answers to, and I will know too much about places I will never be to. I try my happiness with the beautiful ( in every sense of the word) patients I get at times...the bird I have been tracking for the last week whose only agenda is to crack mirrors and ruin windshield wipers of cars parked at a certain location outside the Superintendent Office, to watch deciduous trees take red leaves, and to keep missing that heavy wet air in a faraway place called home yet have no plans to stay there....
Life is at its anonymous best. And past smiles, tears, exultations, feelings, actions, all lie wrapped in a secret trove called " Amygdaloid trips".
Even this is to be taken in the literal sense as well...
Life is good. You do your work, and don't have much time to think about things. You don't worry that you are out of touch with reality, you don't get time to wake up at your own free will and decide what to do with the remaining hours of the day, you don't get to read a newspaper, or if you do, its hurried look-over of the contents. You have never been to a Parlour to do more than a haircut doesn't bother you because you don't seek a society that has a lot of well tended to women. The basic amenities, the ablutions, are met and forgotten. Rest of the day is a long fight to seek the rights of " My Patient".
Life is good. That you pack in so much of other people in your lives, that it doesn't matter if your own life is a vacuum. A Cipher. I look forward to this time when I walk from the Ward and enter my room and be myself. Whether it means collapsing on the bed with the Blogger on or checking my Bittorrent Speed every 5 minutes.
Life is also good because even if you meet people who have not been to one hundredth the places some of your highly placed, variedly been friends have been, you still respect their simplicity, even their innocence, and their innate tendency to accept. And work without questioning.
I am worse of the lot, because I have questions I will never have answers to, and I will know too much about places I will never be to. I try my happiness with the beautiful ( in every sense of the word) patients I get at times...the bird I have been tracking for the last week whose only agenda is to crack mirrors and ruin windshield wipers of cars parked at a certain location outside the Superintendent Office, to watch deciduous trees take red leaves, and to keep missing that heavy wet air in a faraway place called home yet have no plans to stay there....
Life is at its anonymous best. And past smiles, tears, exultations, feelings, actions, all lie wrapped in a secret trove called " Amygdaloid trips".
Even this is to be taken in the literal sense as well...
Monday, March 1, 2010
HOLI continued
This is not an excuse to say what i was supposed to do in Holi and what I did not. No I did not clean up my room, and I did not see much movie either. The previous night was my worst as I did the night shift in the ward for a friend who flew to Pondicherry to be with his love for Holi. And so after I finally went to the Resident Room of ward 3 this is how the events unfolded.
12 30 am a patient of one unit with Diabetes Mellitus, with Diabetic nephropathy and an amlost hemi mediastinum full of fluid with ensuing dried up corneas and a death rattle was present. I cannot say if the presence of a Nephrologist Senior Resident makes me more attentive about fluid and my personal disgust for bad smells puts me off, but in any case, I ran him a fluid, for he was severely dehydrated, with a shot of Bicarbonate, and a BGA. Explained the prognosis, came back. He went 1 hour later.
At about 3 am, there was a 85 year old man with Tetanus, who must have gone a good amount of time by the time the attendants called me. Took off his tracheostomy tube, his Central line, and Foley's and declared him.
At about 4 30 a young girl I had seen passingly receive a blood transfusion lay dead with dilated corneas and cold extremities in the lap of her mother. She had SLE and was dialysed twice, the last time was 2 days before her dialysis. To me she appeared most okay, and if she had a disequlibrium, or went into altered sensorium, neither did the attendants inform me or the unit's doctor ask me to see her when he gave me the over for serious patients. The leukemia patient was quite fine, with a good pulse and some breathlessness. I fail to understand even now why the girl should have gone.
At 6 30 a case of Alcoholic Liver disease with Encephalopathy with Spontaneous Bacterial Peritonitis lay dead with no attendants by his side, with no medications given the previous night because he had no one who would buy it for him. I had seen him discharged days before from the unit my ward shares with and was mildly peeved when he came and sat in the Resident room right next to where we were having a short and much needed tea break. And I had noticed that despite being on his feet, he still had residual slurring of speech, mild icterus and some disorientation. Had told him the formula of low salt, less water and more sugar. Whats the use, he could have gone home and abused alcohol again.
This was a very sad night and a sad beginning for Holi. I have not had a night so far when I have seen 4 people succumb just like that. Finally I remarked to the sister about there being a big possibility of me having a cardiac arrest next. She remarked equally candidly that I cleaned up the ward right before the next Emergency.
I am not sad because I did not get to sleep a wink or that it was a terrible night to have. What I am sad about is that none of the patients were resuscitable, and a big extent why that happens is because of the situation we are put in. Neither was I in the best of health, and even if I could have done an intubation, none of those who went could have come back. The diabetic had to go. The Tetanus guy had gone, the Alcoholic Liver disease I frankly did not put much thought to going by his past 4 episodes of admissions and continual drinking. I am still confused about the Lupus girl. And this time there were no intravenous shots given by the sister through the Central Venous line. I don't know why she went. I saw her quite relieved with a blood transfusion going on when I was running for the tetanus guy and earlier for the Diabetic one. Her attendants mentioned that she merely stopped breathing.
It was the worst night in ward for me. Given that had there been anybody else it would still have been the same, but it brings up bigger questions of having a Leukemia, a tetanus, a Lupus with renal failure, an Alcoholic liver disease lying all together with 30 others and being looked upon by just one Doctor with only 8 months experience.
Its about the value of a life in India, which possibly being 1 divided by a Billion, doesnt amount to much.
As an aside I have been having some really thick Sputum production for myself for which I have suspended all my other activities and am waiting to get cured. The other side of the story is over, and I am gearing up for the Emergency, which with Holi being the event for upturning of two buses, is bound to be very hectic. Today is my PreEm, and I hope I will enjoy it somewhat.
12 30 am a patient of one unit with Diabetes Mellitus, with Diabetic nephropathy and an amlost hemi mediastinum full of fluid with ensuing dried up corneas and a death rattle was present. I cannot say if the presence of a Nephrologist Senior Resident makes me more attentive about fluid and my personal disgust for bad smells puts me off, but in any case, I ran him a fluid, for he was severely dehydrated, with a shot of Bicarbonate, and a BGA. Explained the prognosis, came back. He went 1 hour later.
At about 3 am, there was a 85 year old man with Tetanus, who must have gone a good amount of time by the time the attendants called me. Took off his tracheostomy tube, his Central line, and Foley's and declared him.
At about 4 30 a young girl I had seen passingly receive a blood transfusion lay dead with dilated corneas and cold extremities in the lap of her mother. She had SLE and was dialysed twice, the last time was 2 days before her dialysis. To me she appeared most okay, and if she had a disequlibrium, or went into altered sensorium, neither did the attendants inform me or the unit's doctor ask me to see her when he gave me the over for serious patients. The leukemia patient was quite fine, with a good pulse and some breathlessness. I fail to understand even now why the girl should have gone.
At 6 30 a case of Alcoholic Liver disease with Encephalopathy with Spontaneous Bacterial Peritonitis lay dead with no attendants by his side, with no medications given the previous night because he had no one who would buy it for him. I had seen him discharged days before from the unit my ward shares with and was mildly peeved when he came and sat in the Resident room right next to where we were having a short and much needed tea break. And I had noticed that despite being on his feet, he still had residual slurring of speech, mild icterus and some disorientation. Had told him the formula of low salt, less water and more sugar. Whats the use, he could have gone home and abused alcohol again.
This was a very sad night and a sad beginning for Holi. I have not had a night so far when I have seen 4 people succumb just like that. Finally I remarked to the sister about there being a big possibility of me having a cardiac arrest next. She remarked equally candidly that I cleaned up the ward right before the next Emergency.
I am not sad because I did not get to sleep a wink or that it was a terrible night to have. What I am sad about is that none of the patients were resuscitable, and a big extent why that happens is because of the situation we are put in. Neither was I in the best of health, and even if I could have done an intubation, none of those who went could have come back. The diabetic had to go. The Tetanus guy had gone, the Alcoholic Liver disease I frankly did not put much thought to going by his past 4 episodes of admissions and continual drinking. I am still confused about the Lupus girl. And this time there were no intravenous shots given by the sister through the Central Venous line. I don't know why she went. I saw her quite relieved with a blood transfusion going on when I was running for the tetanus guy and earlier for the Diabetic one. Her attendants mentioned that she merely stopped breathing.
It was the worst night in ward for me. Given that had there been anybody else it would still have been the same, but it brings up bigger questions of having a Leukemia, a tetanus, a Lupus with renal failure, an Alcoholic liver disease lying all together with 30 others and being looked upon by just one Doctor with only 8 months experience.
Its about the value of a life in India, which possibly being 1 divided by a Billion, doesnt amount to much.
As an aside I have been having some really thick Sputum production for myself for which I have suspended all my other activities and am waiting to get cured. The other side of the story is over, and I am gearing up for the Emergency, which with Holi being the event for upturning of two buses, is bound to be very hectic. Today is my PreEm, and I hope I will enjoy it somewhat.
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