Category Archives: epilepsy

The Sunshine Girl

The Sunshine Girl

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The beautiful 14 year old girl was almost motionless. Her body was completely stiff, eyes fixed in one position, she could not move at all. Any attempt to speak or move would send her entire body in violent spasms. She could not even cry for the fear of this painful stiffness, but her pillow was wet with the tears rolling down her eyes. Her parents had wheeled her in on a stretcher. They had landed just yesterday in Mumbai, travelling from Iraq with her. Her father was illiterate, while the mother was a science graduate from Baghdad University. While internally torn with the condition of her daughter, the mother very calmly and peacefully explained me the condition of her daughter Khazan.

On the day of school annual function just five months ago, Khazan’s teachers in Iraq noticed that she was limping while dancing on the stage. They told her mother about this. Khazan was taken to a Neurologist there, who found that she had some neurological signs, with brown coloured rings in her eyes. This ring called a ‘KF’ring is usually found in patients who have a rare disease called ‘Wilson’s Disease’. Due to a fault in Liver, copper cannot be excreted out of body, it accumulates in the liver and in the blood, rising to high, toxic levels. This excess copper in the blood then starts damaging every organ in the body, but first it causes severe damage in the brain and eyes. If not treated, the patient becomes disabled soon and dies. The biggest problem is that many patients may worsen with treatment in the initial phase, with medicines which act fast. The cheaper medicine (Zinc) which does not cause such worsening, is too slow to act, it takes months. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande. Khazan was started with the first medicine in Iraq, but unfortunately, she became paralysed due to the side effects of the medicine. The Neurologist in Iraq started with the second, extremely costly drug. Her parents sold off their land, business and even home, and shifted to a rental small house to afford this medicine that had to be imported from USA. As fate would have it, Khazan reacted adversely to this too and further worsened. She became completely paralysed, could not eat or speak, and was then advised the last option, the curative treatment for this disease: Liver transplant. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

They applied for loans from some charity organisations, and landed in India for Liver trasnsplantation. “We were told that the doctors in India are the best in the world, and the cost of treatment is lowest in India. So we decided to come here” her mother told. Indeed, the cost of medical as well as surgical treatment in India is lesser than half compared to the developed world. For simple appointments with specialists, the waiting list in the developed world exceeds weeks to months, and surgical appointments take years. Once, in my childhood, one of my uncles gave me some dessert, like everyday, which I didn’t care to finish. My aunt asked me with surprise: “Why don’t you eat such a delicious dessert?”. My uncle immediately said “Because he gets it so easily. Ask those who don’t get it, they will love it”.

We found that Khazan was almost skin and bones, dehydrated, and anemic. She had developed many Parkinson-like symptoms and some psychosis. I explained her condition and told her mother: that she was semi-critical, that I wanted to start with the cheaper, third medicine and give her supportive care, but it would take a long time, I could not guarantee anything. Her mother told me via the Arabic interpreter Mr. Tabrez: “Doctor, we do not want surgery for her. Do what you would have done for your own daughter. We will close our eyes and do whatever you say. We will hope she improves, but we understand you cannot guarantee anything”. Now the onus was upon me, the responsibility was mine. We started treatment. Khazan’s graduate mother knew more about Wilson’s disease than many medical students, yet she never came across as arrogant or argumentative. She politely asked doubts. A good doctor grows with every patient. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

My students started helping out the family, making Khazan feel at home. Love and compassion for the patient enhances the effects of all medicines in most cases. Add the trust and willpower of the patient, and you usually have a winning prescription. From the shadows of a near-certain death, Khazan’s body and soul started to awaken to the sunlight called life. She gradually started speaking, drinking water, and in a few weeks, eating small morsels. They had to return to Iraq, and we communicated via video chats. They returned twice to India for reassessment and change in treatment.

A few months after their last visit, I received a letter. It was written in English, by Khazan. She had joined college now, and wrote that she wanted to become a doctor like me. Her mother had added in Arabic: “My girl is the sunshine of my life, thank you for bringing her back from the claws of death”. I had received my reward. Khazan is doing very well now since last three years, with God’s grace. Of course I did not forget to remind her that most of the credit of her recovery was to the unparallelled grit and efforts of her mother.

Magical, Near-supernatural, Miraculous recoveries happen every day in India. Patients, young and old, with almost nil chances of survival, walk home smiling every day, in almost every Indian town, even in the most rural areas, thanks to the efforts of thousands of doctors working 24/7. These doctors are never appreciated or rewarded. This post is dedicated to those messiahs of Indian Medicine.

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

This story is real. Many doctor colleagues and physiotherapy students have helped me treat this patient over years. Wilson’s Disease can be completely cured, there are many experts working on tis in India.

Please share unedited.

“Dev Borem Korum” (Thank You)

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

As the plane landed, I called up the driver who was scheduled to pick me up from Goa airport.

“Hullo, Mr. Clement? I’m Dr. Rajas”

“Haan daktar. Tu aaya kya? Bahar nikalke miss call de mai ayega” (Have you arrived? Come out and give me a missed call, I will come there”) . He would have said the same sentence to the President as well. Goans are least hung up on artificial flowery language, they are the friendliest lot as a society. It was after a year, that the same Clement said to me: “Tere liye apun jaan bhi dega parwa nai” (“I can give my life away for you without any hassles”), when I thanked him for something.

Goa has some excellent Neurologists, and my visiting is actually redundant. Yet somehow, maybe because they keep quite busy, or sometimes patients seek a second opinion, I have been seeing a good number of patients every visit. In the very first visit, after I saw an elderly lady and explained her the treatment, she bowed and said “Dev Borem Korum Doctor”. That means “Thank You Doctor”.

Then I pleasantly noticed: irrespective of what was the diagnosis, what treatment was given, whether there was treatment for the patient’s condition or not, whether the patient improved or not, almost every patient said either “Dev Borem Korum” (Thank You) or “God Bless You Doctor”. Even if surgery was advised, even if there were side effects of medicines, even if the outcome was not as expected in rare cases, the “Thank You”and “God Bless You” never changed. It had nothing to do with any particular social class. The rich, the poor, the educated as well as the uneducated, people from every religion, every age group said it. It is a part of that culture: the Goan culture.

Late one night after the OPD, when we were driving on a beautiful long empty Goa road near the beach, I mentioned this fact to my friend Dr. Samuel (God Bless Him for the exotic dinners he takes me to!), he stopped his car and looked quite affected. “I wondered whether anyone else had noticed that. It feels so beautiful! When the patient is grateful and brings you blessings, you automatically feel responsible to do the best for them. Money never matters in that relationship. We must never take patient’s kindness for granted. So many of them actually say Thank You, God Bless you, but sometimes we are too preoccupied with work, anger, ego and other things to reciprocate and encourage that kindness”.

I told him about my late Professor Dr. Sorab Bhabha, who stood up and greeted every time a patient entered or left his cabin. The onus of initiating a good doctor-patient relationship primarily lies upon the doctor, and it is extremely essential to follow the best of manners and etiquette, kindest of language when dealing with patients.

A very sweet girl who followed up for epilepsy recently told me that she visited me not only for medical purpose but because she was inspired by the way I appear calm and composed, the fact that I never raised my voice and always spoke compassionately with everyone. I had to tell her the truth. “Thank you mam, but I am quite short tempered outside the hospital. Even the junior doctors working with me sometimes find me intimidating. But I have to change when I am with a patient. I don’t think that any patient comes to me because I am any better than anyone else in the profession. I prefer to think that they choose me because they trust I can solve their problem. Will you be rude to someone seeking your help? Then how can I get angry with a patient? Every patient coming to me has that hidden trust, which I must justify. Only rarely, if the patient misbehaves or says something insulting, do I lose my calm.”.

“That’s what I like. So humble!” she had to have the last word!

Yes! The day I bring my ego inside the hospital, I will no more be a good doctor. Even the most illiterate patient understands when the doctor is being rude or artificial. Only when it is genuine, the patient will feel the warmth of my compassion and care. It has nothing to do with sweet talking or a show of affection. The only way to do this is to actually incorporate it within one’s depths so that it becomes one’s originality. Kindness and compassion must be the original, genuine qualities of every doctor who expects gratitude from each one of his patients. It does work in most cases.

After dinner, Dr. Sam took me with two other friends to the beach and we silently stared at the luminous moon for a long time. The music of those waves matched the dance of that moonlight upon the ocean. Just as one can feel the glow of the moonlight upon one’s skin, I could feel those numerous blessings keeping my soul warm and happy.

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Please Share Unedited.

That Order To “Stop Saving Life”..

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Arrest! Sir… Code Blue!” the nurse shouted. The casualty was full, all eight beds had serious patients, and their relatives waited near them. Every second matters.

“Everyone out” my co-intern shouted. Some moved out, some stayed. Two other interns were already attending similar patients, two of us ran to the arrested patient. The nurse had already started the chest massage. I gave patient the position for inserting the breathing tube, as my co-intern Dr. Ajoy took over the cardiac massage. The senior medical officer, Dr. Hazare, experienced with a lot of medical wisdom, stood near the bed. He calmly gave orders for the last-attempt medicines in such emergencies.

The chest massage to save lives is rather forceful, its force has to reach the heart. The chest wall has to be pumped down 2-2.5 inches with every compression, and this has to be real fast: over 100 times a minute. It looks very traumatic, but it is useless if not done exactly like this. It is quite a disturbing scene for the relatives. The patient’s son kept on shouting “Don’t hurt him” loudly. The medical officer repeatedly asked him and the five relatives around the patient to leave. They refused.

The Medical Officer Dr. Hazare then asked us to stop the CPR. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

We were baffled. How could one stop the life saving CPR?

The patient who had arrested was from a nearby slum, father of a local goon out on bail, like most goons in India. He (the patient) was in his late fifties, a chronic alcoholic and smoker, with severe liver damage. He’d had excess alcohol on the prior night. That morning, he had had a convulsion, and was brought to the casualty after many hours of delay . An arrogant, drunk, politically supported crowd posing as relatives accompanied him, a common nuisance in almost every Indian hospital.

We continued the CPR. Dr. Hazare went out.

After a direct injection of adrenaline into the heart through the chest, the patient’s heart restarted, and he started to gasp, making some movements. We quickly shifted him to the ICU. The proud feeling of saving a life gripped us. There was no time for celebration, but Dr. Ajoy kept whistling on the way for our midnight tea.

Later that night, Dr. Hazare called us. He was angry, yet calm and smiling, an ability that only the most evolved souls can have.

“Listen, we are in India. Most of the people around us are not only uneducated and ignorant, they are also quite violent and paranoid. Emotional dramas are considered a normalcy. There’s a tendency to shift the blame of delayed treatment and bad outcomes on to the doctors. You were risking your life. If the patient’s heart had not restarted, the relatives could have blamed you, even hurt you”.

“But Sir, they saw that we were desperately trying to save the patient’s life” I argued.

“YOU think so. They don’t know anything about the CPR. They refused to go out. You saw how arrogant they are. These things work only when the outcome is good. If the outcome is bad, the doctor is automatically held guilty. I told you, we are in India. People like to think that doctors are wrong, whatever you do. ” Dr. Hazare said. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

We didn’t think he was right. Still, we respected him for his wisdom, so we just apologised and went on to deal with the casualty again. It was a busy night, still a very negative feeling about what Dr. Hazare had said kept shadowing my thoughts. How could such a senior doctor ask someone to stop CPR?

Dr. Ajoy went to his room at 5 AM and returned by 7 AM to relieve me. I went home at 7 AM, had a quick bath and breakfast, to return at 9 AM.

The casualty was all devastated, ruins were seen all around. Many doctors were rushing in and out. All beds were empty except one.

Dr. Ajoy was on that casualty bed, unconscious, intubated and with blood soaked bandages on his head. He had many cuts on his entire body. Our colleagues were trying to push intravenous fluids fast into his veins. Dr. Anirudh, another intern with us, told me even as he could not stop crying: “That patient we had resuscitated yesterday evening… he had another cardiac arrest in the ICU this morning… his relatives came down and attacked Ajoy. They said that the patient died because of the forceful CPR. They stabbed Ajay and hit his head with iron rods. Dr. Hazare came and tried to rescue Ajoy, they even attacked him. We were waiting for you. Do you have his parent’s contact?”.

In a state of shock, I could not speak. I reached out for my bag, got my diary and called Dr. Ajoy’s father in Calcutta.

“Why?” Dr. Ajoy’s shocked father asked when I told him Ajoy was attacked, injured and serious. How could the father of a thin built, cute, brilliant scholar ever understand that people could brutally attack his child for trying to save their loved one?

I had no answers. Dr. Hazare’s sentences kept ringing in my brain, I could not utter them. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Eventually, Dr. Ajoy recovered. He is now in the UK. His father came over last week, for a check-up. While leaving, he kept his gracious hand upon my head and said with immense love: “Save many lives beta, but take care of yourself first. I still cannot sleep well due to what happened”.

That night, I stared at the sky, and kept thinking: Actually, this is why no doctor ever sleeps well in India. Saving lives comes with the inherent risk of losing one’s own, and this happens only in our beloved motherland.

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Please share unedited

Religion? Caste? Race? Nationality?

Religion? Caste? Race? Nationality?
No, I cannot think about that.
A Bullet has shattered the skull, damaged half the brain of this young person of 22 years.
A surgeon has put together the pieces of skull, a fragment of metal is still seen deep inside the brain. This person has a whole future of decades to tackle with a severe disability. As doctors, we only think: what best can be done to repair the brain, how best to resettle the patient in their future life, how to help them overcome their disability.
”Shoot, Kill, Hunt, Enemy, Revenge” are not the words any true doctor in this world can ever like!
We can never think about the race, caste, religion or nationality of any human being. Because a Doctor is always above any sort of discrimination. © DR. RAJAS DESHPANDE
#bullet #war #violence #stopviolence #stopdiscrimination #racism #racist #trauma #surgery #neurosurgery#neurology#medic #medico #medicine #medical #doctor#neurology #docteur #doktor #arzt #lakare #medicina#doc #medicalpractice#emergency #lijek #geneeskunde #medicament #medizin

Reboot Fate, Kanika Is Here!

Reboot Fate, Kanika Is Here!

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande.

At 12 years she was on the top, an athlete who also won the scholar badge for three consecutive years and special honors at her school. Just then, a rare neurological condition played havoc in her life. She had multiple tumors, suffered a paralysis, was wheelchair bound for over two years. Then she suffered from depression, suicidal thoughts, high blood pressure, and multiple health issues which sometimes threatened her life. She had to leave school. She suffered bullying by kids her age, she had severely painful muscle tears that made it impossible to move hand and leg. Many hundred blood tests, some invasive procedures like lumbar punctures, and even a biopsy were all inconclusive. She also went through medical horrors: rude doctors, huge expenses and uncertainty. Her diagnosis is still not fully established.

But her status as a winner in the battle with fate is well established. Meet Kanika Kesri. She walked again after two long years today.

In August 2015, Kanika started having fever and severe headaches, and started becoming weak. Lot of tests were done, and she was found to have a tumor in her abdomen. A surgery was planned in Delhi, she was taken there. The specialist decided to first biopsy her tumor. The biopsy revealed a possibility of tuberculosis, so anti tuberculous medicines were started. She developed paralysis of the face and eyes, nothing could be done as the only medicines that could improve her condition – steroids- could cause dangerous worsening of her tuberculosis. In December 2015 she developed weakness in the left leg and could not walk. An MRI done then showed that she had developed multiple tumors in the brain and spine. She was then diagnosed with the most dangerous and often fatal form of tuberculosis: MDR (Multi Drug Resistant) Tb.

She was started with additional medicines and her parents were told that nothing more could be done. Her condition worsened during one of the lumbar punctures and she became bedridden, almost completely dependent. Someone told her father one of the worst medical possibilities: that this could be some form of cancer.

One of my earlier patients, Mr. Rahul Agarwal, brought Kanika’s father Mr. Pankaj Kesri to me in a devastated frame of mind. Lost in uncertainty, extremely angry at the behavior of some doctors, and frustrated with the expenses while being away from the job for a few months, he was still very polite and humble.

Her case was indeed baffling. I went through all the details, involved my colleagues at Ruby Hall Clinic, and even some of my teachers in Mumbai. The answer was almost the same everywhere: don’t know what this exactly is, but don’t stop the anti-tuberculous medicines.

Something was wrong, the girl was deteriorating in spite of taking the tuberculosis treatment. In a discussion with her parents, when her father said he had complete trust in the way we were treating her, I put forth an option: to give Kanika steroids, and if she improved, to consider withdrawing the anti-tuberculous medicines. This involved a serious risk to her life if her presumed tuberculosis worsened. With a very heavy heart, her family consented.

We started steroids. Kanika improved. We stopped the tuberculosis medicines. She continued to improve. She could now stand with a walker. Unfortunately, twice during physiotherapy sessions, Kanika tore her muscles: once in the thigh, which made it impossible for her to walk. She was bedridden again.

Till this time, Kanika was all positive, vigorously working to recover. The long illness now started to affect her mind. She became depressed, her sweet smile vanished. She tried to join school, but isolation and bullying worsened her mental agony. She started having suicidal thoughts. Very mature for her age, Kanika decided even in that condition that she was going to defeat the situation. She confessed about her thoughts to her parents. We arranged a counsellor for her. Just as Kanika started to recover from depression, the side effects of steroids started to come up: weight gain and high blood pressure. New blood pressure medicines were added. There are some alternatives to steroids, but she did not tolerate them.

Kanika wanted to study further. She joined home schooling, an excellent option made available by the central government, through NIOS (National Institute of Home Schooling).

One of the most complicated cases I have seen in this young age group, Kanika suffers from a very rare autoimmune condition. Her immune system has some dysfunction that causes multiple tumors in her body, these tumors usually resolve with steroids as they suppress immune system. The closest condition that resembles this is known as Neuro-Sarcoidosis, but some of Kanika’s tests for this were negative too.

Kanika’s parents chose to always come across pleasant and polite. “I know my daughter’s health is above all my complaints. I have chosen to concentrate on the positives” Mr. Pankaj Kesri says. Kanika’s mother Mrs. Rajni had to face a double-edged problem: while adolescent Kanika developed many ups and downs in her moods, Mr. Pankaj Kesri was transferred out of Pune. Mrs. Rajni fought alone on many fronts, while also looking after Kanika and her elder sister Kritika, who they call their pillar of strength.

It all was rewarded today, when Kanika walked without support after almost two long years. I was so happy with the miraculous moment, that I called upon my CEO, Mr. Bomi Bhote, who has always encouraged highest standards of medical care, leaving no stone unturned to bring it under his roof. He was so happy to see Kanika walk again, that he recorded the moment himself. “My wish is to see you run” he told a smiling Kanika.

We learnt a lot: many a times, some patients tolerate a lot while facing medical issues: the worst being a rude doctor. We doctors must ourselves ensure that we offer the best compassionate counseling to each such patient before we demand their faith and trust. It is never automatic. The process of medical care is an ongoing one, and it must be guided by a single principle: decision making in the best interests of the patient. A lot of study and awareness of medical advances on a daily basis is essential.

Kanika to us is an example of exemplary courage, grit, maturity, positivity and patience. She is a role model for anyone who is going through a negative medical phase. May she get back to normalcy soonest possible, may she recover completely, may she achieve whatever she sets out to achieve. She has proven many times over till now that she is a born winner.

In the beautiful moment that Kanika walked again, I found the blessings of my parents and teachers.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

PS: Thank You, Ms. Kanika, Mr. Pankaj and Mrs. Rajni Kesri for permission to share this story of courage.

Please share unedited.

The Most Precious Jewels Upon Earth

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Sir, next is our old free patient” my receptionist announced on the phone.

Divya, the smart young girl of 8 years jumped into my cabin, and grabbed her chair with an authority. Confidently looking at me, she questioned, “how are you today?”

Her parents, embarrassed and charmed at the same time with her sense of ease in this big hospital, facing a doctor, hesitantly stood behind her. I requested them to sit down and went through the routine questions.

“She is all good now, no fits since last two years. She has been regular in her school and has started studying well too” her father reported.

I examined her and wrote her a renewed prescription. I noticed the mother wiping tears.

“What happened?” I asked.

Quickly smiling, she just gestured with her head “nothing” and looked at her husband.

“Do we need any tests, Sir?” Her husband asked, “We will do whatever is required”. I could feel his palpitations. They were scared that I may tell them tests, and that would mean financial disaster.

He works as a pantry boy and can barely pay the home rent with his salary. His wife somehow makes ends meet, looking after this sweet daughter and a younger son.

At the age of five, Divya had had her first convulsion. Her parents had rushed her to the government hospital. They did not have the money required for Divya’s tests and medicines even at the government hospital. So they resorted to something that hurt them worst: they had to sell little Divya’s silver jewelry, which was the most precious thing in their house. Even that was not enough, so they borrowed money and started her treatment, her father worked extra hours.

That was about three years ago. Divya’s fits continued, but her parents did not give up. Their whole life had but one aim: to stop her fits. Even after being less educated, Divya’s parents decided to go with scientific treatment, ignoring all pressures to take her to different weird people including magic healers. They did not give up hope, their will power was their boon.

Two years ago, a doctor friend sent Divya to me. With some changes in prescription, her fits completely stopped, she has now become just another normal child.

“No tests are required. Please make sure that she is regular with the medicines” I told them.

As I wrote this, I got a little emotional myself, this was the first time I had heard of any parents having to sell their daughter’s jewelry for her treatment. On one side, I was proud that even after being surrounded by perpetual pits of poverty, this girl child’s parents did not skimp upon her treatment just because she was a girl child (this often happens), but on the other I felt anger and shame that my country still lacks a basic healthcare infrastructure that can offer free quality treatment to at least children.

Yet, this had taught me my lesson. Willpower and hope are the mightiest and most precious jewels upon earth, far tougher and far more beautiful than any diamonds. For there are many who own diamonds but have neither willpower nor hope.

Meeting this rich family today was joy enough, but a greater bliss was when the kiddo put her arm upon my shoulder with the same confidence. The world is indeed hers!

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Please share unedited

“Alive Or Dead?”

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“I saw the news myself. The doctors declared her dead. They took her home. In a few hours, her son noticed her breathing, they immediately took her to another hospital, where she became conscious. Doctors are absolutely careless now a days. All doctors and hospitals work for only money..” the hefty dark man with a large moustache was telling this story loudly to a group of about eight people sitting around him, three of them quite pretty, young and attractive.

“Yes,”replied another, tall and fair, but with a shrill voice: “Doctors have become butchers now. My friend’s father suffered a head injury, and was dead on the spot. But the doctors told us he was alive and kept his dead body on the ventilator for five days, saying that his heart was beating. All for money”.

I was sitting in the cafetaria of our hospital, it was nearly ten at night. I had just attended a call for a patient of convulsion, in the recovery room , where patients are kept for a few hours after major surgeries. . The patient, who had had fits since childhood,had presented with heart failure due to a defective heart valve, and had undergone a major heart surgery to replace the valve just two days ago. He had had another fit. The cardiac surgeon Dr. Ramnath had personally called and requested me to rush and assess the patient. He was quite worried, like most surgeons are after major surgeries. After making some changes to the patient’s prescription, I called up and informed Dr. Ramnath. He was relieved “Thank you, Rajas. Will you please wait in the cafetaria? I would like to have a coffee with you” he had said. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

That’s why I was waiting in the cafetaria, as usual my back towards the world. The group sitting behind me probably wasn’t aware that I was a doctor, or likely had chosen to ignore it.

In the next ten minutes, there followed many anecdotes by various members of that group: that allopathic treatment is costlly yet useless, all doctors are sold to the drug companies, that humanity has vanished from the medical profession, etc.

The most beautiful sign of growing up is not reacting to a certain type of people. I practised it, although rattled with all that I had heard.

Dr. Ramnath walked in. His trademark fast pace and smiling face brightened the small cafetaria.

“Hi, Rajas, sorry to keep you waiting. Much obliged that you could come. I have just seen him. Oh Hi..!” he said, noticing that two people from the group stood up.

“Namaskar doctor! How is our patient? ” asked a person with the moustacheo.

“He is quite stable now, all is well. I will shift him out tomorrow if everything is okay” Dr. Ramnath said.

“Then why did he have a fit? Why didn’t you tell us that could happen?”asked the moustacheo. He had found a gentleman, polite, highly educated doctor replying his questions courteously, this was his chance to misuse it to impress the three PYTs in the group. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Dr. Ramnath’s smile vanished. “I had explained to the patient’s family. May I know who you are?” he asked to the moustacheo. Even a surgeon has limits to the misuse of patience.

“I am patient’s father’s friend” he replied, his voice on an offended backfoot.

“Please see me in my office by making an appointment”Dr. Ramnath told him.

We went over to another corner of the cafe and ordered our mutual favourite Italian Roast black coffee. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Two weeks later, the patient came to my OPD for adjustment of the fits medicine. The moustacheo came too. The patient had recovered magically, now living a new life. I told the family so.

The moustacheo was not yet satisfied. He asked many questions. I had most answers. At the end of it, I asked him what he did.

“I work as a commission agent in property deals” he told me.

“If I may ask, how much are you educated, and in which field?” I asked him.

“Oh I left school after tenth standard. Why?” He was offended.

“Can you google?” I asked him.

“Yes” he said proudly.

“Please read about ‘Lazarus Syndrome’” I told him, writing it down on a piece of paper for him.

There are many examples all over the world, where a patient’s heart stops functioning, and doesn’t respond to the usual measures of CPR / resuscitation, but automatically starts beating again after a few minutes, and the patient becomes conscious later. This is called the ‘Lazarus phenomenon’. It happens because of a complicated combination of chemical, electrical and physical changes in the heart, even many minutes after it stops. This has been reported more than 38 times all over the world. However, it is only in India that doctors are beaten up, hospitals vandalised, and the media earns crores by shouting poisonous about this headline. One state government even shut close an entire superspecialty hospital because of such incidence! (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

On the other hand, if a doctor tries to keep the patient alive even when the brain has stopped functioning, or the heart is failing, then some of our less educated muscular bollywood heroes cry foul about the entire highly qualified medical profession, that “doctors are keeping dead bodies on the ventilator to extract money” and even slap doctors in the hospital on the screen, to impress their quality of box office. Maybe we must call these “Ëxperts of life and death” in media and bollywood to treat every patient, to perform operations, and even to certify every unfortunate death that may happen in some cases. It is because of this poison spread by these ‘pseudo heroes’ at the cost of the best doctors in the world, that even after the best outcomes at the cheapest rates, Indian doctors have to face the bitterness and wrath of our society.

Whether a patient is “Dead or Alive”? Everyone in India other than qualified doctors seems to know better!

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Please share unedited.

The Tribe and The Ring

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Before coming to India, I searched a lot and bought this holy stone for you, the same one I was given as blessing for a good future. I wear exactly the same ring. As a mark of my gratitude for the treatment my son Hathim received in India, we want to make you a part of us. Please wear this ring” said Mr. Jade from Yemen.

About a month ago, he had left for Saudi Arabia, leaving his children back in India, to continue treatment. His younger son suffered from a very rare type of epilepsy (Lennox-Gastaut Syndrome) of uncontrolled fits / convulsions and was not mentally growing up well. The 16 year old elder brother cared for the younger one, as they stayed at a rental house in Pune. The case was very difficult, and I had to seek help from my teacher Dr. Sangeeta Ravat in Mumbai, who suggested crucial inputs in managing the kid. Fortunately, the fits are now controlled well, and the father arrived in India to take back the kids to Yemen.

He not only gifted a bag of perfumes, dates and sweets from his country (most Arabic patients, however poor, usually bring gifts for the doctors they visit), but also personalised the bond by bringing for me the same ring that someone had given him for a good fortune. Superstitions apart, but wishing for someone the same that one wishes for oneself is the core of almost every religious text.

Of course the major credit here is that of my teacher Dr. Ravat. I did nothing extraordinary, many doctors treat their patients with their soul, and get excellent results. The reason for this post is the pride of belonging to that tribe called “Doctors” which breaks not only the boundaries between countries, but all the walls between cultures, languages, and societies. This “Doctor”tribe has the rarest opportunity in the world: a free entry in the heart of any human being anywhere upon earth!

This ring is dedicated to that tribe: all doctors who have gifted health and life to millions.

As the beautiful kid travels back to his country, we pray for the best health and happiness for him and his entire family!

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

With Mr. Jade, Master Hatham, and a friend Ms. Arwa.