A Medico’s Last Certificate

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© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

A continuous beeping filled up the air in the ICU. Over twenty hearts kept making rhythmic sounds, the nurses kept on silencing the false alarms that rung every now and then, and informing us about the ones that needed attention.

We had kept the cake in the doctor’s room, we were waiting for the right moment. It was well past midnight, we had all wished Dr. Steve a happy birthday, but the ICU was full and busy, we waited for an opportunity to cut the cake.

A very old Parsi man, just recovering from a massive heart attack, was not maintaining his blood pressure. As his alarm sounded again, we rushed to attend him: Dr. Steve, myself and our nurse Ms. Divya. As we adjusted his intravenous drips, he asked us our names. He was funny, and always made us smile in spite of the deadly shadows that surrounded us. When we told our names, he smiled. “See, there’s a Hindu, a Christian and a Parsi happy in this small 10 by 10 room, but they cannot all stay peacefully outside in this big country!” .. Dr. Steve, always interested in one-upmanship, smiled and said, “If you want, we also have a Muslim and a Sikh doctor outside. Shall I call them in?”

With the typical instant Parsi wits, the old man replied “Arrey no no bawa, all our ********** (I did not completely understand that word) political leaders will die if people from all religions come together”.

It was difficult to say whether we were treating his heart attack or he was treating out tired minds. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The CMO called, there was a new patient coming up, a young lady in respiratory failure due to pneumonia. As the nurses prepared the new bed, Dr. Steve took down notes from the CMO. Ms. Divya was one of our most efficient and agile staff nurse. Very beautiful and brilliant, she took responsibility upon herself with a passion that would put to shame even some doctors. We all knew that there was something going on between her and Dr. Steve, but both of them kept mum. I knew for sure though, because Dr. Steve had once confided to me about this crush he had upon her. However, overwork always suffocates personal life in a hospital.

The stretcher rolled in, noisy with calls of panic. The patient was gasping. Urgently shifting her on the ICU bed, Dr. Steve intubated her. She coughed a lot, and both Dr. Steve and Ms. Divya were showered with blood stained secretions. Dr. Steve had his mask on, but Ms. Divya had not had the time to put hers on. He angrily shouted at her, while adjusting the patient’s tube, to wear her mask. I finished securing the IV line, and started pushing in the emergency medicines. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The patient was a young lady, who had suddenly developed fever, cough and cold. On the second day she had become restless, was admitted in some nearby hospital, but as she continued to worsen in spite of treatment, she was referred to us. It was a viral pneumonia, an extremely invasive and dangerous viral infection had started filling up her lungs with fluid and blood. Just as her oxygen levels improved, she developed an irregular heart rhythm: viral infections often cause severe damage to the heart, a condition called myocarditis. In two hours after admission, the lady died. Horrible moments followed, telling her broken husband and stunned kids that she was gone forever. Completing the formalities and paperwork, we returned to the grind: we were medicos: there’s no choice for us to sit down, panic, repent, mourn or run away.

No one was now in a mood to cut the cake. No one even spoke about it. Next night, Ms. Divya bought another cake, and we all silently wished Dr. Steve a belated Happy Birthday.

Jutst ten days later Ms. Divya developed fever, cough and cold. The same deadly virus, most likely. We all panicked. Dr. Steve took leave and attended her, as her family was far away in Kerala. She had come to Mumbai to earn enough for her family. In spite of all efforts, Ms. Divya passed away in just three days. The faces of her elderly parents and younger brother became one of the worst memory-scars in our lives. Shortly after, Dr. Steve developed the symptoms too, but survived.

I took him out sometimes, to bring him back from the pit of depression and shock that he had sunken in. One evening, when we sat silently on Marine Drive, he said, “I will never have a Happy Birthday again. You know, Divya’s family has no support at all. I have decided to help them out for some time, till we find an alternative”. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Staring at the ocean, I kept wondering: In this country, where crores of rupees are thrown almost every other day for even miniscule achievements in cricket and cinema, where millions are spent from public funds upon the useless travel, security, meetings and social dinners etc. luxuries of the super-rich MLAs and MPs, where billions are spent by every political party in elections, there are no funds for the nurses, doctors and other staff who risk or lose their lives serving their patients. If a bridge collapses and many die, if there’s a major accident due to lapses in administration, there is immediate compensation, in an attempt to seal complaining lips. But if a medico is injured or killed, the best thing our society has to say is: “This is because all doctors work for money, it must be the fault of communication on the doctors part!”

We walked that whole night, along the ocean, silently crying. Sometimes the only solace for a medico is the thought that someday someone will desperately need a good doctor or a good nurse, and not find them around. Many medicos who do extraordinary good to their patients do not get any certificates for what they do. Most don’t care. Because we carry our death certificates in our pockets every day. One last certificate that we work very hard for.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Dedicated to the nurses and doctors, medical staff who suffered / died because they served patients, saving lives.

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“Why Don’t You Marry Her, Doc?”

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Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Sir, she cannot walk, she is paralysed below chest since last few days. Her husband doesn’t care, he has abandoned her. She has no money or insurance for tests or treatment. I want to help her, I don’t know what to do” I told my junior consultant, who was having his coffee break with senior consultant and the departmental secretaries. He looked at me in a nasty way, and said “Why don’t you marry her?” and they all laughed aloud. However, although my professor smiled with them, he asked me to get the patient’s papers.

She was a case of Multiple Sclerosis, in her early thirties, and had lost ability to walk. Her sensation below the waist, control over urine was also lost. This ghastly illness of the brain and spine often cripples the young. In many cases, when such disability develops, divorces follow. The world as we doctors see it is far more cruel, deceptive and dangerous than most illnesses humanity knows. She was left with a small daughter and no income. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

I felt insulted, but I was in a foreign country. The junior consultant was known for his sarcastic humour and enjoyed impressing women around him, often at the cost of others, like so many dwarfs who take advantage of their chair to achieve what they otherwise cannot. I chose to ignore him, and got the papers to our boss, who called a colleague to enrol the patient in one of the upcoming research trials. That would ensure her free tests and medicines for a few years. I told her the good news. She started sobbing, then handed me a note written by her:
“I am killing myself as I have nothing left except my daughter, I cannot look after her with my disability. I have no complaints against anyone. Please look after my daughter”.
In some time, after she stabilised, she said “Doc, I had come prepared to kill myself today. My daughter is sitting in the cafeteria. If you had not told me what you did just now, believe me, I was planning to drive my wheelchair off the roof today”. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

We called her 10 year old daughter from the cafeteria. Little did the cute child know how lucky she was to see her mother again that day.

That evening, my boss, the senior consultant, took me out for a dinner. Once the red wine loosened strained faces, he started to speak: “Rajaas, I know you are kind and you want to help others. I know you feel for your patients. But I must caution you, don’t get carried away. Your job is clear: to listen, to advise the best line of investigations and treatment, to explain, and to compassionately guide. Don’t carry too much weight upon your shoulders”.
“Why, Sir?”I asked politely, “I feel inner peace when I walk an extra mile to help my patient. How can that cause me any harm? Didn’t this lady survive just because you helped her today?”
“Because it is a never ending burden. To be able to effectively help everyone coming to you, you must have too much money and too much time. Doctors seldom have either. I lost a lot of time and money, to realise that this cycle never ends, that newer and more people need your help every day, all your life. I almost went bankrupt, collapsed and quit under stress. Then I realised that I must limit this so I could serve them best the next day”. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

It felt like dry reasoning at that moment. However, boss continued to help patients beyond duty whenever I asked him. Over years, I realised how correct Boss was!

My dear british colleague Dr. Mindy was trying to help a patient through her divorce, I accompanied her. As the patient opened up, she revealed to Mindy that although she enjoyed marijuana, her husband was involved in the sale of other illicit drugs, and that was one reason that she wanted to divorce him. Dr. Mindy involved a counsellor to help her out. However, after they decided to patch up their marriage, the patient told her husband that she had confided in Dr. Mindy. The husband came over and politely threatened her to keep all the information only to herself, otherwise be prepared for dare consequences.
We all spent many a restless nights after that.

Emotionally disturbed, helpless patients, those who are treated unfair by family often depend upon a kind doctor. They get quite restless at times, worry a lot and then expect an immediate hearing and resolution from their doctor. From suicide threats to blackmails, there are messages that pour in once that channel is opened. This sometimes wreaks havoc in the doctor‘s life, because being disturbed affects clinical practice and decision making. The small time left for self and family is thus shot dead. A patient who becomes emotionally dependent upon the doctor can turn into a nightmare for the doctor. Over years, I learnt to balance this, going out of the way only for the few truly deserving patients.

Thousands of patients have survived just because their doctor emotionally supported them in time, otherwise they would have died of lack of will to carry on. No one ever credits the doctors who become emotional back-ups for their patients: a service that costs them time and stress, without any income. That is unfortunately considered a “duty” of the doctor, to be kind and available at bad times, but to be forgotten in good times. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande. Many actually think that good words, compliments and “a satisfaction of serving” should be sufficient compensation for the doctor. Nothing fully compensates, although kind words do sometimes make one feel good.

However, what caused worse hurt to me was some of my own colleagues who made fun of me and many other doctors who went out of their way to help patients. “Impractical, unnecessary, worthless, drama”, and so many other adjectives are used by colleagues and even seniors/ some teachers for doctors, students, residents who walk an extra mile to help their patients. I was extremely fortunate that I met some good teachers who supported my efforts without mocking me, and I continue to meet students who carry on this noble trait forwards.

When I was leaving, the junior consultant came over for the farewell too, and told me in too many words how I must learn to be “Practical”. I gave him a reply that one teacher with advanced genius had taught me years ago, for people who do less themselves and advise others a lot. This reply saves a lot of time and energy, my teacher had told me, and its beauty is that people don’t even understand that you are saying ‘those two useful words’ when you reply like this:

I just smiled at him.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

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The Unforgettable Compliment

The Unforgettable Compliment
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

All six casualty beds were full, the room was full of noises: nurses, fearful and angry patients, relatives, and wardboys trying to move stretchers and wheelchairs in and out. This chaos didn’t affect my concentration anymore. It was late night, heavily raining, my colleague Deepa and myself were the only two doctors- interns then- in the civil hospital casualty. She was finishing the paperwork in the side room. Behind a curtain, I was trying to remove a metal piece stuck in the back of a kid who had blown a firecracker bomb with a tin container covering it. I started stitching the gaping wound once the metal piece was out and cleaning was complete. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Just then a girl walked in, all wet and panicked, with another small girl upon a stretcher. I recognized her instantly: she was a classmate from my junior college, Ruta. As the patient was shifted to the bed, Ruta frantically shouted, enquiring for doctors. The nurses had already started checking her patient’s vitals. I finished bandaging the stitched wound, and came out from behind the curtain, removing my gloves. She saw and instantly recognized me too. “You are Rajas, right? Remember me? I am Ruta, your classmate.” She started sobbing, now that she met a familiar face. Her sister, about 15 years old, had had a head injury, falling from a bike, and had just vomited. She was woozy, irritable and confused. I ordered an X ray (CT scan was not available in that civil hospital) of her head and neck. IV line was started and necessary drugs injected. I reassured Ruta that her sister was stable, and continued with other patients.

My subconscious kept on playing memories of the past on some deep screens.
Ruta was exceptionally beautiful and vivacious. She had many fans. I liked her too, but there was no interaction: her group unlikely to engage with nerds like myself. They were a group of happy-go-lucky, good looking and muscular guys and stylish, good looking girls. They were mostly into movies, masti, dance, gymming, rides and food. I was not only preoccupied with a lot of classes and study, but also too shy to belong to such a group. Somewhere I envied those boys, they had so much advantage interacting with girls, with all the time and money they had. However, muscles are not my kind of statement, although (Thank God!) I have always enjoyed excellent health and fitness. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Once we finished the junior college, I never saw them. Medical courses hardly allow any time for extracurricular activities. The only silver lining was that there still were beautiful and intellectual girls in the class, and some of them respected and liked nerds too!

As Ruta waited by her sister, I kept on attending the cases that came in. From women in labour to heart attacks in shock, from bullets in the chest to rapes, one night in a casualty shows more pain than many know in a lifetime.

A foreigner couple came in, with their small boy bitten by a bee, he had developed severe reaction, his breathing was obstructed because of the throat swelling from inside. They kept on weeping as we all rushed to inject steroids and other medicines to the child. In some time the kid stabilized. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Then the police brought in a drunk driver who had rammed his Bullet bike into another’s. Our duty was to perform a detailed examination, collect blood sample and opine whether he was drunk or not. I was shocked: he was my schoolmate. He recognized me too. “Raja? Dekh yaar ye log mujhe andar kar rahe hain (Look these people are jailing me) he said, “Tu kuchh kar yaar (please do something)”. This was difficult. He was going to hate me for life probably, but I had no choice. I wrote his report. I felt sad, but there was no time to express it.
A snake bitten farmer and a newly wed woman with over 70 percent burns were brought in almost together, both gasping. Deepa and myself ran around to stabilize them, the medical officer came in too, but the burns woman had arrested just as they entered the casualty. We intubated the farmer, who was sinking, while we struggled to get things right. He was shifted to the ICU upstairs. We started finishing the paperwork. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

It was about 4 AM, now there was a relative calm in the casualty. Sleepy relatives had found corners to doze off. All six patients were relatively stable.

“Excuse me Rajas, Is there a canteen nearby where I can get some tea?” Ruta asked.
“Yes, across the road, in the lane opposite the gate” I replied.
“Will you please join me?” she asked.
Borrowing an umbrella from a ward boy, and informing Deepa, I walked Ruta across the street. We stood sipping the hot tea by the side of the road, under the beautiful rain.

“I have a confession to make” she said suddenly: “I never knew there was this side to life: I only thought my life was to be enjoyed without a worry. If someone had given me a million rupees yesterday to stay up all night listening to other people cry, see wounds and deaths all night, I would have declined and ran away. I cannot stand anyone whining, and here you all are, listening to nothing else, fighting not only death but also expectation, anger and uncertainty. We made fun of nerds like you, and today I meet one, saving lives! I don’t know if I will ever save a life, and here you are saving many every day! I feel how superficial I was! I respect you and what you do. I now think you docs are superheroes”.
We are used to such overwhelmed compliments by patients just relieved of fear. I just smiled. She read my face. ” No, I am not saying this because my sister is admitted today, but because I feel it inside after seeing what happened here”. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande
I thanked her, adding that it was not wrong to have fun and look good, confessing that medicos often secretly miss those things, none of us gets any time for that.

Needless to say, I walked back thanking God, and feeling proud. This was one simple closure, yet so essential!

My co-intern Deepa gave me the expected wicked mischievous smile when I returned.
“Today the tea must have been very tasty na?” she asked, sarcasm overflowing from a face deliberately made over-innocent.
“Solid” I replied with matching sarcasm; “Oxytocin-Dopamine waali chai thi (It had oxytocin and dopamine)”.

We discharged Ruta’s sister the next day. After two days, I received a handmade greeting from Ruta, in which she had written the most unforgettable compliment I ever received:

“You healed more than what was injured. Thank You!”

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Dedicated to all medical students, interns and resident doctors.
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MEDICARDIA: A Doctor’s Diagnosis.

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© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Rimless spects, ipad, T-Shirt and denims. Brilliant face, thinning hair. Attitude. A face carefully wiped off of any expression. The typical new age intellectual waited outside the ICU. Body language: severe anxiety.

“Doctor, do whatever you must, his convulsions must stop” said Mr. Prasad. His father was having continuous fits for over three hours, he was just admitted directly in the ICU after all the home remedies had failed. His oxygen levels had dropped to dangerous levels. Patient had ready aspirated during his convulsions. His food had regurgitated and entered his windpipe.

The last treatment for continued fits is completely paralysing the patient with general anesthesia, intubating and starting artificial respiration with a ventilator. There is risk, but lesser than if the patient continues to have fits. Every doctor, for every patient, must make a decision based upon the risk-benefit ratio. Every treatment, medicine or surgery, also has potential risks. The decision that can potentially cause someone’s death is not easy to make. Every doctor lives on the edge of this risk.
Add distrust and suspicion, and we are dealing with law more than with medicine. Welcome to the medico nightmares! © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The critical care team had already explained the risk to the Mr. Prasad. He had signed the consent, including understanding of the critical condition. We intubated the patient and ventilator was started. The fits stopped. A chest physician was also involved in the treatment. Monitoring of the brain waves still showed abnormal currents in his brain, so he was kept paralysed next two days.

On the third day, the patient developed fever, most likely he had developed a chest infection, so common after aspiration. His condition worsened, his blood pressure dropped. We informed the family.

“Why didn’t you prevent this?” asked Mr. Prasad.
“Sir, have you ever had any cough, cold, fever?” I asked.
“Yes, many times. What has that to do with my father’s infection?“ he replied.
“Why couldn’t you prevent it?” I asked, “Anyone can develop an infection or a heart attack anywhere outside the hospital and it is ok, but if it happens inside a hospital, why does it suddenly become a doctor’s fault? Hospital acquired infections are possible in spite of all precautions, in the best of the hospitals across the globe. The elderly population is especially more prone for infections.”
This being a routine question, there was no reason for me to lose my patience. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Our team worked hard to maintain the unconscious patient alive. His heart rate fluctuated, blood pressure dipped to non-recordable sometimes, blood sugars went high, liver and kidney functions were deranged, but we kept on playing the “Medical Chess”, where one doesn’t know what move nature will make next, the only possible next step is to accurately, promptly and wisely counter that complication.

His lungs started failing, the chest physician advised steroids. At this stage steroids could either be life saving, or could cause havoc by worsening the infection. Mr. Prasad was explained the situation.

“What are the chances of survival and complete recovery?” he asked.
“Unpredictable, Sir” I replied.
“Then why use steroids?” he asked.
“If we don’t, the chances are less than if we do”. I replied.

Steroids were added. The patient stabilised and then started improving gradually. Over next five days there was a dramatic recovery. Steroids were stopped.. Mr. Prasad remained expressionless, questioning every move. Three days later, once he started breathing by himself, the ICU team informed me that the patient could be extubated- the tube for ventilation could be taken out. I was in the OPD, I okayed the decision.

In a few minutes, Mr. Prasad rushed into my OPD.
“Doc, my father cannot speak. He has lost voice”. He was quite angry and anxious.

“Let me check” I said and went to the ICU.
The patient was otherwise fine. The throat tube inserted for ventilation sometimes causes swelling in the throat, involving the vocal cords, and such “hoarseness” or loss of voice is common after this procedure. Using steroids facilitates recovery, but in this case, it was now risky to use steroids. We explained the situation to Mr. Prasad. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“When will he recover from this?” he asked.
“Usually two weeks, but still one cannot say exactly” I replied.

“Why didn’t you tell this to us earlier? This is atrocious. I will file a complaint. We will go to the court. My friend is a reporter. I will also write on social media about this, that because of the treatment here my father lost his voice” he started shouting.

He did file a complaint with the hospital. Everything was on paper, everything was medically and legally correct. Still the administration must ask me questions and I must reply. Many long emails and documentations followed. One reporter called and enquired about the case, I explained her the situation.

I didn’t sleep well those five nights. Medicolegally we were safe, but who was to deal with the media allegations, the resultant defamation, irresponsible hurtful comments by every TDH on the social media?.

The patient was still under my care. I saw him daily, he was making good recovery. His voice became normal in next three days. He was shifted to the wards and then discharged. He was advised to continue anticonvulsant medicines. Mr. Prasad did not say a goodbye, didn’t write a feedback, he didn’t withdraw his complaint. They just disappeared, and did not follow up. I kept on dealing with the paperwork for a few days even after discharge. I still had a thin bleeding layer of patience left. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

About a month later, at late night, I got a call from the casualty. The same patient was convulsing. Mr. Prasad had requested to call me.

He revealed that after the discharge he had searched for ‘the best’ neurologists in India, took his father to two of them, and was advised to continue exactly what we had advised. Then he researched internet, found an “ancient remedy” for epilepsy rediscovered recently by a famous baba, that guaranteed complete cure. They had stopped the anticonvulsants advised by me three days ago, as the Baba’s site blasted all modern medicine and the dangerous effects of allopathic drugs.

My remaining patience was destroyed, However, the patient was my first responsibility. I advised the treatment, we intubated the patient and started ventilation again.

“What are the chances, Sir?” asked the rimless eyes with expressionless face.

“We have started with the emergency treatment, the patient will be shifted to the ICU. I cannot accept this case, please admit your father under another specialist” I said. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Look doc, I am sorry if you felt bad about last time. We paid full bills and we will pay again, we have mediclaim. I want you to treat him” he said.

“I don’t work for the mediclaim companies. You cannot pay me for the damage you caused to my peace of mind, the waste of time you caused by writing falsified complaints. You cannot pay me for the sleepless nights because of your threats” I told him.

His face changed. Panic appeared on that expressionless face. He folded hands. There were tears in his eyes. “Doc, I am sorry. I got carried away by what people say about modern doctors. I will do whatever you want. Please save him. I promise I will immediately write an apology to the hospital ”.

Needless to say, a doctor’s heart has many hard scars, but it is the easiest to melt. It did, once again!

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Real experience, some facts changed to mask identity.
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The Changing Blood Group

The Changing Blood Group

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“He is sinking” shouted Dr. Siya.

The casualty registrar rushed to the bed, checked the vitals. Pulse very fast. Blood Pressure very low. Lips and nails white, hands and feet cold. The young man, unconscious, was on the verge of death.

“He must be bleeding inside. Get an urgent sonography of his abdomen”said the registrar to Dr. Siya, and call the blood bank. He will need at least two units of blood urgently”.

It was Dr. Siya’s first week into internship, she was thrilled with the idea of actually saving lives. At the young age of 22, she was witnessing death almost every other day. Along with that she was amazed to see the darkest sides of human nature: the potential of humans to hurt each other: via rapes, accidents, murders, fights. She had decided to not let this affect her attitude, and to continue to try and save every life she could.

That late night, this young man of about her own age was brought in unconscious by someone, who had just dropped the patient in the casualty and left without leaving any identity of himself. “I found him lying unconscious on the road. I don’t know anything else about him. I am just doing my duty, I have a train to catch”said the stranger and left. The patient was reeking of alcohol. He had a visible head injury. A quick CT scan had revealed minimal bleeding due to a small skull fracture. He also had had bleeding from wounds from his hands and legs, they were sutured. The patient had no identity marks, wallet or cellphone. The policy of the hospital was to provide basic treatment and shift the patient to the government hospital. The police station was already informed. Treatment was started.

Dr. Siya requested two units of blood. The blood bank called. They had only one unit of the blood for his blood group. The registrar had the same blood group, and like many doctors working in the emergency departments, he went down to donate blood.

It was nearly midnight. The fate of the life of a young man depended upon what the junior doctor did just then. There was no one to sign any consents, the protocol was to inform the hospital’s medical director and obtain consent for emergency transfusion or procedure. Dr. Siya finished the formalities, obtained the permission, and started the transfusion. If the patient had reacted or something went wrong now, they all feared, there will be a havoc in the media: that they had let an unknown patient die because they wanted money!

Dr. Siya kept on managing the show. The angry and disturbed relatives of other critical patients kept on taunting her, speaking rude and reluctant to complete simple formalities and paperwork.

The sonography was thankfully normal.

Just as the first unit of blood was over, the patient became conscious, and revealed his name. He was quite shaken with the surrounding, but told in broken sentences about his friend’s number and address. He revealed that while returning from a party, his bike was interrupted by a bunch of goons, he had fallen down, they hit him upon the head and left with all this belongings.

The friend was called, and came in. He revealed that the patient was used to smoking weed and drinking alcohol in huge quantities. They were staying in the hostel of a famous college.

The second blood unit was started, and in a short while the patient threw a convulsion. He was immediately given injectables for controlling the convulsions, he slept off with the effect.

His parents arrived early next morning.. The shocked mother was consoled and explained about the situation by Dr. Siya. The elderly father, like all fathers, equally shocked but being a father unable to cry, kept mum, just holding hands of the boy.

When the patient woke up again, the father came to Dr. Siya, and touched her feet. Too embarrased, she told him that the registrar had donated blood for the patient. The father went and thanked the registrar, again trying to touch his feet.

As Dr. Siya had finished her night duty, she prepared to leave. “Beta, Will you come soon please?”asked the tearful mother to her. “Yes Auntie, I will be back soon. Don’t worry, he is ok now”she reassured and left.

On her way back her genius young mind tried to look at the situation sitting upon her shoulder, the little third person that resides within each one who has a conscience. That booze and weed was easily available to youngsters in almost all Indian hostels, that even educated people rode bikes without helmet, that crimes were happening almost everywhere that injured and killed people, that law and order was a laughable term in many parts ofthe country, that there was no government mechanism in place to provide emergency medical / paramedic support ambulances to raod / traffic accident victims: which one is the most responsible cause, when patients like these died? Who is responsible?

She reached home, told her proud parents what had happened, that she had helped save a life. Her mother folded her hands towards the sky, said “God, let my daughter save many lives everday”.

While having the breakfast, her father turned on the TV. A famous but ill educated political leader, in his mind-and-other- organs blowing speech in Karnataka, was explaining the illiterate public how all Indian doctors charged in excess, how they were only after money, how everyone except himself was the enemy of the millions of patients surviving from critical heart attacks, accidents, strokes and other diseases. All patients getting better all over te country was only thanks to himself and his government!

Dr. Siya’s father laughed bitterly. “Next time you need blood for any poor or unknown patient, call him” he said.

Dr. Siya replied, laughing “That kind of ëver changing blood group doesn’t match anyone, it is useless for any patient, Papa”.

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

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New Medical Criminals

New Medical Criminals
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Doctor, Will My Dad Survive?” asked the anxious son.
“Very unlikely, we are trying our best though” said the desperate doc.
The highly qualified son had brought his father late night on a Friday, over 24 hours after he had developed a paralysis. Patient’s blood pressure was high, and heart status was fluctuating. An urgent MRI was advised.

“I will get the MRI done outside, I have a friend who gives me concession” said the son, and returned with an MRI after three hours, it did show a big clot in the patient’s brain. The son had insisted upon admission in the ward instead of a critical care unit, saying that his father “did not appear critical” to him and his family. “You want to admit in ICU because that will increase the bills. I know” he had bluntly told the doctor. The doctor had asked him to sign the refusal to admit in critical care, then sent the patient to the ward. Routine treatment for stroke and blood pressure was started, and tests sent.
“I will also get the medicines from outside the hospital, I have a pharmacist friend who gives me concession” he had told the doctor. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Early next morning, the father developed chest pain, and the cardiologist advised immediate stenting, as he was developing a block in the heart. . The son had insisted on using the cheapest stent. Although the angioplasty went well, the patient developed a bleeding in the brain, a complication known in stroke cases. He became unconscious. As the bleeding caused increased swelling and pressure upon the brain, a neurosurgeon was called in to decompress the brain (take off a small portion of the skull bone, to relieve pressure upon the brain). The surgery is usually safe, but the condition in which it is done is usually ultra-critical, thus risk to life is high. The son asked for a guarantee for a good outcome, and was explained that there cannot be any guarantees in medicine. He then refused the surgery, saying “I have read that surgeries are done without necessity by scaring the patient”.

Within hours, the patient’s brain swelling increased to the level of almost a certain fatal outcome. In the evening the son said he was willing for the decompression surgery, it was almost too late. The Neurosurgeon still operated him late night to make a last attempt to save life. After the surgery, the father was shifted to the recovery room. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

It was here that the son had asked the doctor: “Will my father survive, doctor?”.
The doctor politely replied: “Sir, you have all the reports, you know what is his medical condition, so you can now google search and also ask your political leaders through their famous apps what will be the outcome, what is the next step”.

“But you are the treating doctor, you know better. You are like God for us” said the desperate son.

The doctor uttered the only two words that the doctor would want to use after hearing this:

“I Wish”.

Every Tom, Dick and Harry in the government and in the Media has become a critic of the extremely overburdened Indian medical profession made up of some of the best doctors in the world. Those who cannot run their own govt. hospitals well, cannot provide quality heatlthcare to the taxpayer, those who have corruption seeping through almost every office they own, those in whose authority (read govt. hospitals) hundreds of patients die helpless without care, compassion or treatment, those who suspend peons, ward boys, nurses and doctors for deaths that result from inadequacies like lack of essential facilities at hospitals owned by the govt., are out telling the world how Indian medical practitioners are corrupt, instead of praising how they shoulder what the govt. fails to recognize as its own responsibility: healthcare for the majority.

There are bad doctors, bad diagnostic centers, and bad pharma companies, protected by politicians and working on ‘lowest quality-lowest price’ principle. There indeed are “profit sharing set ups”. Among these, if a good doctor / specialist advises the patient to go to a particular doctor or lab or choose a particular brand, the patient automatically presumes that that the doctor is looking for extra money. So most doctors now tell the patient to “go wherever they want” for specialist consultation or tests. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

When I must refer a patient to someone, the only thought in my mind is to offer the patient the best: because the patient’s trust is most important for me. This is how most doctors think, every doctor wants to make a good reputation, which is impossible without also good outcomes. I need to be able to discuss and be comfortable with that specialist, so we can plan best for the patient. If a suspicion about financial misappropriation looms over everything that a doctor does, it is difficult for any doctor to work. There must be accountability, but for both: the treatment and the doctor’s time, energy and skill. The doctor must be able to choose the best for the patient and the patient should have more trust in the doctor than the rumors. .

The last person who should play with trust and faith in other professions is a politician.

The patient did not survive. Neither the leaders who spoke lose and caused paranoia to affect the outcome, or the son who delayed admission, the pharmacy that sold cheapest drugs, nor the family that refused a life saving surgery had any blemish upon their reputation.

It was easier for all of them to blame the doctors who tried hardest for the patient.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Thank You Dr Nusli Ichaporia for the technical assistance.

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Ban the Entire Medical Profession!

Ban the Entire Medical Profession!
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

We were always much entertained by a very famous surgeon who would just sit all dressed up in the operation theater. As the worried relatives kept praying in the waiting room, the patient was operated by some other experienced and skilled doctors employed by this ‘famous’ doctor. He would just sit watching TV in his private room within the operation theater, till the surgery was over. Then, he would come out with a benevolent smile, pretend that he was too exhausted, and tell the relatives “that was an extraordinary case. We had almost lost your patient. I had to make a great effort, use all my dedication, knowledge and experience, but finally I could save him. You are very lucky”. Needless to say, the relatives would touch his feet, overwhelmed by emotion, little knowing that this surgeon has not even touched their patient. Bills floated swollen. The patient or the relatives never knew who actually saved that life. In our education to be doctors, we also learnt “what not to do” from such doctors!

With a recent speech in London, I was reminded of this.
It was very unfortunate that the Hon’ble Prime Minister of our own country spoke quite demeaning about the entire Indian medical profession in a foreign country. Nearly one third doctors in the developed world are from India, leaving India because it offers them no good opportunity, compensation or even basic security. The PM seems to disown the patriotic doctors who try to survive in and serve India. Where is the love for India? Does one demonstrate it by showing everyone else in the country down?© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Let me at the outset clarify that there are some corrupt doctors, some get favours from pharma, and some participate in malpractice. The government always had rights and law in their hand to act against such doctors. The hubs of corruption evolve when the government allows medical seats to be bought for the meritless rich. Our govt. allows crores of sales of medical seats.

We wish our PM also spoke about how many political leaders in this country own medical colleges and what is the actual income that they generate by sales of UG / PG medical seats? Like the prices of all drugs and stents, why not reduce the price of medical seats too?

He said that Indian doctors “do not travel to Singapore to see poor patients”. Was he serving the poor Indian farmers in London? How many poor farmers or labourers accompanied the PM or his delegations on any of his foreign trips? For a PM who has extensively travelled the world, to criticise highly educated doctors for traveling abroad is so unbecoming! Doctors interact with experts from other countries for learning, continuing medical education, and just because Indian politics has screwed the nation into poverty, doctors cannot stop that interaction which is a standard learning process all the world over. Just as Indian politicians who go abroad for treatment to Singapore and London etc. don’t go there to have fun, doctors too do not go for just fun but for a grand purpose: to bring in new knowledge and skills to Indian people.

Then he said that he “enquired” about stents and found that doctors were “”duping” / deceiving all patients into buying costly stents. The PM has himself said in many speeches that he is not educated much, any medical discussion needs high standards of education, scientific proofs and statistics. I am sure that the right people / departments / doctors were consulted by the PM before taking such decisions. Why did he then say “I found out and changed this” rather than “our medical experts / team did this” ? Under the privacy laws no one will know what stents go into which class of people, but from what the doctors see, most politicians and high placed officers opt for “the best and imported”. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

We wish that the PM, on his next foreign trip on an international platform, also speaks about the state of the government-run hospitals, the federal funding for healthcare, the quality of healthcare provided at rural and primary healthcare centers all across India, the gross inadequacy of staff and the absence of specialists, ICUs, Operation Theatres, in almost all government-run hospitals.

We also wish the PM speaks on an international platform about the state of hostels for undergraduate and postgraduate medical students in India, where they have to live about 4-6 people in a small single room, while the huge luxurious premises for various govt. officers and ministers lie vacant most of the time.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

We wish the PM also speaks about the good doctors (all his recent speeches imply that there are no good doctors in India), extraordinary medical achievements of Indian doctors, about those who serve in rural India while facing humungous difficulties, those who bring medical tourism to India, those who run so many charity hospitals, those who bring world class healthcare to Indian patients, those grassroot doctors and paramedics who effectively carry out the govt’s schemes all year round by hard work, including polio and other vaccinations, mother-child care etc. without “just once posing” for the media?\

Even under various govt. health schemes, the poorer class patients go to cheaper general wards, while a senior officer from the same office will receive premium class healthcare at a private hospital. This “class-discrimination” in healthcare by govt is not justified. Wish the PM spoke about this too.

Will the PM also speak about the doctors/ health department officials and ministers who help him bring good changes in Indian Healthcare? If the entire modern medicine profession was so bad, why doesn’t the PM ban it completely and provide healthcare with different Babas and Gurus so rampant with powerful blessings today?

We so much wish that the PM speaks on an international platform how he justifies brutal violence against doctors all over India.

India deserves far better healthcare. But that starts with the facilities for majority: at the level of government-run hospitals, healthcare facilities all over India, reachable for the common man, affordable equally to all classes. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Unless all the government hospitals provide high quality free healthcare to all without discrimination, unless all the problems that the govt can resolve in a day by sanctioning adequate staff and funds for government-run healthcare are sorted out, it is futile to just increase the gap between the doctor and patient by blanket-defamation and maligning of the private healthcare on public platforms, especially international. Incidentally, our private hospitals also cater to millions of poor and the very ministers who run the country.

I have nothing personal against any political leader or party, I am hopeful of good changes happening in Indian healthcare. But I feel compelled to speak about the other side, the good doctors who are the pride of our country. I must defend the good in my profession, because I love it just as I love my patients, just as I love my India.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The “Cheap Competition” among Doctors: a Hidden Cancer.

The “Cheap Competition” among Doctors: a Hidden Cancer.
©Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Neurologist, Pune.

A majority of medical students in India are actually from poor or middle class background. Most students come in this profession for service to the suffering and also for social respect. Every doctor passing out in India does not pay crores of rupees for education. This is a system created and maintained by all governments for their strongmen as a source of huge earnings. Many of these “paying” students also work hard and earn their degree. However some few look at the amount spent as an investment and try to earn it back by unfair means. This is NOT the fault of the majority of good doctors (both non-paying and paying) who work hard to acquire their skills and help the society. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

As the society expects “cheapest” advice even for most complicated health issues, some newcomers, those who are under qualified, those who do not have a good number, and some who don’t have the confidence keep their “Consultation fees” quite low, and rely upon alternate income: through tests, procedures and surgeries, through percentage in hospital bills. Thus, though the ‘entry ticket’ is low, the ‘hidden charges’ compensate for the doctor’s (genuine) hard work and skill.
However, not all ‘low fees’ doctors are bad, but keep their rates low to be able to compete, no one wants to criticise those who have low fees for ulterior motives. This competition to keep the consultation fees low to attract patients has generated most evils in the medical practice. Unfortunately, this is unlikely to change soon, as most people prefer this.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The low “Consultation fees“ model works best for even good, skilled and experienced surgeons and branches with procedures (plasty/ scopy etc.), where the patient usually does not question the charges for the procedures or surgery, just because every patient prefers best skilled doctor. There is also a recent trend to offer even “procedures and surgeries” at a competitive low cost by some hospitals, who employ the inexperienced or inadequately qualified/ trained doctors, beginners, lowest skilled nurses, technicians and other staff and instrumentation, catheters, joints, other prostheses. The whole show will be put up for “short term goals”, risking patient’s life and compromising many aspects of good care. In many “cheap packages”, the long term outcomes may be at risk.

Those who run hospitals have many profit sources: right from the tea sold inside the hospital campus to the room charges, pathology and radiology, nursing, drugs and everything used, they earn profits under multiple headings. This is also why they can afford to keep their consultation fees extremely low. However, most doctors employed at such hospitals are not paid anything besides their own low consultation fees, while they remain the face of the “total-bill” for all patients. This system encourages rich doctors who invest in alternative sources of income than the consultation fees alone. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Physicians / specialists must rely only upon their OPD consultation and IPD visits. If a proper examination is to be done in each case, and all questions of every patient are to be addressed, one cannot see more than 20-25 patients in a day. Thus if he / she keeps low fees, it becomes difficult to sustain in any Indian city. So they must see as many patients as they can, only addressing the immediate medical issue, and unable to answer many queries of the patient and relatives. If a good doctor decides to spend more time with each patient, and gives up relying upon the “hidden income”, he must charge a much higher consultation fees to just sustain in a good city.

The social anger against doctors mostly comes from increased expenditures on health and unrealistic expectations. Although there are greedy doctors, a majority are just doing their best to make a good name by offering the best service at a low price. Quality healthcare will always come with a higher price-tag, a good doctor will have a higher fees, and that if one wants the “backdoor / cut / referral practice “ to end, one must be prepared to pay higher fees.

In a country where loud and sweet talk, deception and lies are preferred by majority over genuine service, honesty and truth, it is difficult to change the basic attitudes: on both sides..

There indeed are some honourable doctors and hospitals who know the value of their own service, and offer the best to their patient. But even they are usually considered “Greedy” by the very patients whose miseries they end. There are senior / skilled doctors who charge from three to ten thousand or more per consultation, and most of our powerful and ministers go to these doctors too. Although this consultation fees appears high, the accuracy of the opinion and advice often save the patients lacs of rupees. If a surgeon advises a surgery, he/ she can earn many thousands, but if the same surgeon with his skills and experience treats the patient conservatively, avoids surgery and gets good results, the patient is unwilling to pay even half the price of that surgery for the same result. What would anyone do in such a case? The concept that “A Right Opinion by the Right Specialist” saves the patient huge amounts of money and discomfort is yet to dawn upon the Indian society.

The market of cheap has always survived, but in the long run, cheap options always come with a greater final price tag upon health: often your life.

It is my sincere appeal to all my fellow practitioners from the newer generations to please change this structure. See a moderate number of patients per day, charge according to your skill, experience and time, do not undercharge or bargain, then alone this system of backdoor incomes will gradually change. Of course you must consider concessions for the really poor, and accommodate those who cannot pay by keeping a separate time/ OPD for them.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Neurologist, Pune.

PS:
Many city-based imbeciles without any doctor in their family will immediately say that all doctors should go to villages. Those who suggest that, please make your own children (if you have) doctors (if they have the caliber) and send them to villages. Why doesn’t the government make it compulsory for every mla and mp who draws lifelong financial benefits from the country’s exchequer, to send their kids to medical schools and serve in rural India compulsorily? Why is it not compulsory for the elected members to take all treatment in their own electorate? Every law is bent every which way possible to accommodate the healthcare requirements of all the rich and powerful, whether it is kidney transplant or joint replacement, but when extending healthcare to the poor and unaffording, the same people from various ruling parties conveniently point fingers at the medical professionals!

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एक आशीर्वाद का रंग (डॉ. बाबासाहेब आंबेडकर की स्मृति को समर्पित)

एक आशीर्वाद का रंग
(डॉ. बाबासाहेब आंबेडकर की स्मृति को समर्पित)
© डॉ. राजस देशपांडे
न्यूरोलॉजिस्ट पुणे

दवाई की मात्रा को सावधानी से गिनकर मैंने इंट्रावेनस सोल्यूशन तैयार किया. सुई पहले से ही लगाकर रखी थी. “मैं दवाई का इंजेक्शन शुरू कर रहा हूँ. अगर कोई भी तकलीफ हो तो तुरंत बताइये, मैं यहीं बैठा हूँ” मैंने उस बूढी औरत से कहा. अपने दर्द की परतों के पीछे से वह मुस्कुराई. उसका बेटा, मेरा लेक्चरर डॉ. एसके , वहीँ खड़ा था. उसने अपनी माँ के सर पर हाथ रखा, और कहा, “ये मेरा विद्यार्थी यहीं रुकेगा. मुझे बाकी पेशंट देखने हैं, आज काफी भीड़ हैं. तू चिंता न कर माँ, अगर कुछ जरूरत हो तो इसे बता देना”. वह चला गया.

डॉ. एसके की माँ को कैंसर के लिए कीमोथेरेपी दी जा रही थी. इसमें से एक दवाई का सॉलूशन तैयार करना और उसे इंट्रावेनस (खून की नसों में से) बराबर मात्रा में देना काफी मुश्किल काम था. मेरे गाइड डॉ. प्रदीप (पिवाय) मुळे ने मुझे कुछ दिन पहले ही इस दवाई के बारे में सिखाया था, इसलिए डॉ. एसके ने मुझे बुलाया था. मैं तब एक सरकारी दवाखाने में अपने एमडी मेडिसिन के पहले वर्ष का रेजिडेंट डॉक्टर था.

कुछ समय के बाद मैंने देखा की उस पेशंट की यूरिन बैग (पेशाब की थैली) पूरी तरह से भर गई थी. वार्ड में काम करने वाली मौसी किसी और काम से बाहर गई थी. ऐसे हालात में एक रेजिडेंट डॉक्टर को हर काम करना पड़ता है. मैंने ग्लव्स / दस्ताने पहनकर नर्स से एक बाल्टी मांगी, और यूरिन बैग से उसमें पेशाब निकलकर वार्ड के बाथरूम की तरफ चल पड़ा. तभी डॉ. एसके वापिस आ गए. उन्होंने मुझसे वह बाल्टी मांगी, कहा “मैं ले जाता हूँ” पर मैंने कहा के मैंने ग्लव्स पहने हैं, मैं ही रखकर आता हूँ. मैंने वह बाल्टी वार्ड के बाथरूम के बाहर रख दी, मौसी बाद में उसे साफ़ कर देती. © डॉ. राजस देशपांडे

जब दवाई ख़त्म हुई, तो डॉ. एसके ने मुझे चाय पीने के लिए साथ चलने के लिए कहा. हॉस्पिटल के पीछे ही एक छोटी सी चाय की दुकान थी. थोड़ा हिचकिचाने के बाद उन्होने कहा : “सुनो, ग़लतफ़हमी न हो, लेकिन जब मैंने देखा कि तुम मेरी माँ के पेशाब की बाल्टी लेकर जा रहे थे, मुज्झे अचम्भा सा हुआ. तुम ब्राह्मण हो ना? जब तुम बाहर थे, तो मेरी माँ ने भी मुझ पर गुस्सा किया, और कहा, क्यों मैंने तुम्हे वो बाल्टी उठाने दी. हम बहुजन समाज से आते हैं. तुम्हे पता भी होगा, मैं अपने समाज के एसोसिएशन का नेता हूँ.”.

मुझे पता था. डॉ. एसके के नाम से काफी लोग डरते थे. पर एक निहायत बेडर और आक्रामक नेता होने के बावजूद वो एक अच्छे दिलवाला इंसान भी था. जब भी किसी पर अन्याय होता, तोह बिना जाति-पाती के बारे में सोचे वो उसकी मदद करता. गरीबों के लिए उसे विशेष प्रेम और सहानुभूति थी. किसी तरह का भेदभाव उसे पसंद नहीं था.

मैंने कहा “सर, मैं ये सब नहीं सोचता. पेशेंट तो पेशंट ही होता है, पर यहाँ वो आपकी माँ भी हैं, जो भी उसके लिए करना पड़े मेरा तो कर्त्तव्य बनता है. मैं अपने मन में कभी जाति-पाती का विचार न करूँ, न ही कभी किसी से भेदभाव करूँ, ये ही तालीम मुझे मेरे माता पिता ने मुझे बचपन से दी है”. © डॉ. राजस देशपांडे

“ठीक है”, उन्होंने कहा, “मेरा तुम्हारे बारे में कोई पूर्वग्रह / प्रेज्यूडिस था, वो अब चला गया. अगर तुम्हे कोई भी विपत्ति कभी भी हो, तो बड़ा भाई समझकर मुझे बता देना.” . कितनी ईमानदारी और धैर्य से उन्होंने एक कठिन बात को सरलता से कहा था!
जबतक अपने आप को दुसरे भारतीयों से ऊंचा या अलग समझने वाले हर भारतीय को कोई पश्चिमी जातिवादी (रेसिस्ट) “ब्राउन / ब्लैक” कहकर नीचा नहीं दिखता, उसे भेदभाव का दर्द नहीं समझ सकता.

संयोग से, कुछ दिन बाद ही, मेरी अपने एक प्रोफेसर से कुछ तू तू मैं मैं हो गई . उन्होंने मुझे अपने चैम्बर में बुलाकर कहा ” जब तक मैं तेरा एग्जामिनर हूँ, तू पास नहीं होगा”. मैं परेशान हो गया. मेरी आर्थिक स्थिति तो खस्ता हाल थी ही, पर मेरा बेटा अभी छोटा सा था और मेरे माँ-बाप मेरे वापिस आकर उनके पास रहने कि आस लगाए बैठे थे. फेल होना मेरे लिए बहुत बड़ी मुश्किल खड़ी कर देता. © डॉ. राजस देशपांडे

मैंने डॉ. एसके से मिलकर मेरी परेशानी बताई. वो मुझे उस प्रोफेसर से मिलने ले गए. पहले उन्होंने मुझसे कहा के मैं उस प्रोफेसर से माफ़ी मांगू, बहस के लिए. मैंने माफ़ी मांग ली. फिर उन्होंने उस प्रोफेसर से कहा “राजस मेरा छोटा भाई है.इसे कभी कोई धमकी न देना. अगर ये परीक्षा में अच्छा परफॉर्म करें, तो इसे पास कीजिये, अगर नहीं, तो आप इसे भले ही फेल कीजिये. लेकिन अच्छा परफॉर्म करने के बावजूद भी अगर ये फ़ैल होगा, तो मैं जरूर आप के खिलाफ आवाज उठाऊंगा. बाकी तीन परीक्षकों से मैं पूछूंगा”.
प्रोफेसर साहब ने तब कहा के उन्होंने ज्यादा गुस्से में मुझे धमकी दी थी, उनका मुझे फ़ैल करने का कोई इरादा नहीं था. बात यहीं मिट गई.

परमात्मा कि कृपा, अच्छे गुरुजन और कड़ी मेहनत के कारण मैं अपनी एमडी मेडिसिन कि परीक्षा पहली ही बारी में ही पास हो गया. जब मिठाई लेकर मैं डॉ एसके के पैर छूने पहुंचा, तो उन्होंने मुझे अपनी माँ से भी मिलाया. उस ने अपने बटुए से सौ रुपये निकलकर मुझे दिए ही, पर बहुत प्यार से ढेर सारे आशीर्वाद भी दिए. © डॉ. राजस देशपांडे

अपने स्कूल और कॉलेज के दिनों में मेरे बहुत सारे दोस्त थे, समाज के सारे वर्गों से. विद्यार्थी कभी जाति के बारे में सोचकर दोस्त नहीं बनाते. कॉलेज के दिनों में मेरे डॉ. बाबासाहेब आंबेडकर एसोसिएशन के कार्यकर्ताओं से बहुत अच्छे सम्बन्ध थे, क्योंकि दो बार जब मैं किसी अन्याय के खिलाफ अकेला झगड़ रहा था, कोई साथ नहीं दे रहा था, तब उन्होंने मेरी बहुत मदद कि, उन्ही के कारण मैं अपनी ज़िन्दगी कि दो बड़ी लड़ाइयां जीत सका.

डॉ. बाबासाहेब आंबेडकर के पास दुनिया का सबसे प्रभावशाली अस्त्र था: फाउंटेन पेन. यह भी एक कारण है जो मुझे उनके प्रति बहुत आदर है. किसी और शस्त्र-अस्त्र कि जरूरत ही आदमी को नहीं है! समाज के दो समुदायों के बीच का कोई भी वाद-विवाद कभी भी झगड़ा या हिंसाचार से खतम नहीं हो सकता. एक-दुसरे के प्रति आदर और प्रेम दिल में रखकर साथ चलने से ही हम सारे समाधान खोज सकते हैं.

भाग्यवश, भारत में कोई भी डॉक्टर किसी भी पेशंट के बारे में सोचते हुए जाति-पाती का विचार नहीं करता. जैसे कोर्ट के आँगन में एक जज का अमल सर्वोच्च होता है, वैसे ही भारत के हर मेडिकल कैंपस में इंसानियत ही सर्वोच्च मानी जाति है. ह्रदय हो या खून, दिमाग हो या सांस, ये किसी भी जाति के अलग नहीं होते. बड़े दिमाग कि तरह ही एक बड़ा दिल भी मानव कि उन्नति का एक प्रमुख मानदंड है. © डॉ. राजस देशपांडे

मेरा सपना, मेरी प्रार्थना है कि समाज के विभिन्न घटकों के बीच में विभाजित विचारों के ये काले बादल हमेशा के लिए नष्ट हों. हम सारे एक दुसरे को अपनी जैसा ही केवल एक इंसान समझें, कोई भेदभाव न रहे. विद्यार्थियों में हर दरवाजा खोलने की, हर दीवार तोड़ने की क्षमता होती है, उनसे हमें बहुत उम्मीद है.

किसी भी भेदभाव को न मानते हुए हर पेशंट कि ज़िन्दगी और स्वस्थ्य के लिए दिन रात काम करने वाले वैद्यक समाज में से एक होने का मुझे गर्व है. अपनी प्रैक्टिस से बाहर भी, मेरा ये मानना है के जिस भी भगवान कि मैं पूजा करता हूँ, वही मिझे मिलने वाले हर व्यक्ति में मौजूद हैं.

एक पेशंट के आशीर्वाद का कोई रंग नहीं होता, दुआ कि कोई जाति यही होती. एक डॉक्टर होने के नाते मेरा धर्म, मेरी जाति, और मेरा कर्त्तव्य सारे एक ही है: सिर्फ इन्सानियत.

डॉ. राजस देशपांडे
न्यूरोलॉजिस्ट
रूबी हॉल क्लिनिक पुणे

जरूर शेयर करें.

The Colour Of Blessings

The Colour Of Blessings

© Dr Rajas Deshpande

Carefully calculating the dose and mixing it with the intravenous fluid with precision, I told the kind old lady: “I am starting the medicine drip now. If you feel anything unpleasant, please tell me.”

Through her pain, she smiled in reply. Her son, my lecturer Dr. SK, stood beside us and reassured her too. He had to leave for the OPD, there already was a rush today. “Please take care of her and call me if you feel anything is wrong” he said and left.

Dr. SK’s mom was advised chemotherapy of a cancer. It was quite difficult to calculate its doses and prepare the right concentration for the intravenous drip. Just a month ago, my guide Dr. Pradeep (PY) Muley had taught me how to accurately prepare and administer it, so when Dr. SK’s mom was admitted, he requested me to do it for her too.

The drip started. After a few hours, I noticed that her urine bag needed emptying. The ‘mausi’ supposed to do it was already out for some work. Any resident doctor in India naturally replaces whoever is absent. So I wore gloves, requested a bucket from the nurse, and emptied the urobag into it. Just as I carried the bucket with urine towards the ward bathrooms, Dr. SK returned, and offered to carry it himself, but I told him it was okay and went on to keep the bucket near the bathroom where the ‘mausi’ would later clean it. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

Once the drip was over, Dr. SK invited me for a tea at a small stall outside the campus. He appeared disturbed. He said awkwardly: “Listen, please don’t misunderstand, but when I saw you carrying my mother’s urine in the bucket, I was amazed. You are a Brahmin, right? When you were away, my mom even scolded me why I allowed you to do it, she felt it was embarrassing, as we hail from the Bahujan community. I am myself a leader of our association, as you already know”.

I knew it, to be honest. His was a feared name in most circles.He was a kindly but aggressive leader of their community, but always ready to help anyone from any caste or religion, to stand by anyone oppressed, especially from the poor and discriminated backgrounds.

“I didn’t think of it Sir! She is a patient, besides that she’s your mother, and I am your student, it is my duty to do whatever is necessary. Otherwise too, my parents have always insisted that I never entertain any such differences”. I replied. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

“That’s okay, but I admit my prejudice about you has changed,” he said. “If you ever face any trouble, consider me your elder brother and let me know if I can do anything for you”. What an honest, courageous admission! Unless every Indian who thinks he / she is superior or different than any other Indian actually faces the hateful racist in the West who ill-treats them both as “browns or blacks”, they will never understand the pain of discrimination!

As fate would have it, in a few months, I had an argument with a professor about some posting. The professor then called me and said “So long as I am an examiner, don’t expect to pass your MD exams.”

I was quite worried. My parents were waiting for me to finish PG and finally start life near them, I already had a few months old son, and our financial status wasn’t robust. I could not afford to waste six months. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

I went to Dr. SK. He asked all details. Then he came with me to the threatening professor. He first asked me to apologise to the professor for having argued, which I did. Then he told the professor: “Rajas is my younger brother. Please don’t threaten him ever. Pass him if he deserves, fail him if he performs poor. But don’t fail him if he performs well. I will ask other examiners”.

The professor then told me that he had threatened me “in a fit of rage”, and it was all over.

With the grace of God, good teachers and hard work, I did pass my MD in first attempt. When I went to touch his feet, Dr. SK took me to his mom, who showered her loving blessings upon me once again, and gifted me a Hundred rupee note from her secret pouch. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

Like most other students, I’ve had friends from all social folds at all times in school and colleges. I had excellent relations with the leaders of Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Association, and twice in my life they have jumped in to help me in my fight against injustice when everyone else had refused. I love the most fierce weapon of all that Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar himself carried: the fountain pen!

No amount of fights will ever resolve any problems between any two communities, the only way forward is to respectfully walk together and find solutions. Fortunately, no doctor, even in India, thinks about any patient in the terms of their religion or caste. (© Dr Rajas Deshpande). Just like the Judge in the court premises, humanity is the single supreme authority in any medical premises. Blood or heart, brain or breathing are not exclusive to any religion or community. Just like the bigger brain, a bigger heart is also the sign of evolution.

I so much wish that the black clouds of disharmony between different communities are forever gone. The only hope is that our students can open any doors and break any walls, so long as they do not grow up into egoistic stiffs. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

I am proud to belong to the medical cult of those who never entertain any discrimination. A patient’s blessing has no coloured flags attached! Even outside my profession, I deeply believe that the very God I pray exists in every single human being I meet. If at all anyone asks me, I am happy to say that:

My religion, my caste and my duty as a doctor are all one: Humanity first!

© Dr Rajas Deshpande

Neurologist

Pune

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