Tag Archives: depression

Save Lives. Share.

My Brothers And Sisters
Please stop posting/ reposting bad news as many amongst us are on the verge of giving up.
If you feel sad/ suicidal please speak to a friend, family member, doctor or psychologist/ counsellor.
If someone speaks about having suicidal thoughts, please seek professional advice of a counsellor asap.
Don’t give motivational speeches or tell the sad and depressed to just “take it easy”, that “you need to be strong like me, this is mental weakness “, do not suggest them exercise or yoga as a remedy. Spirituality, philosophy and meditation are NOT the initial / sufficient remedies for depression.
Let a professional handle it, depression is completely reversible if treated by the right specialist: Psychologist, Counsellor, Psychiatrist or if none is available, any qualified doctor.
Depression is not madness, those feeling sad are neither mad not weak. Please help them recover by keeping a positive atmosphere around them, and connecting them to the right help. Switch off news channels and feeds. Watch comedies and happy music. Play board games with them. Eat something they enjoy together. Make sure they sleep well.
Please tell them in simple and direct languhow much you love/ adore / respect them, this one step may change their perspective.
These corona days will pass soon. In a life of many decades, we are just sacrificing a few months: to stand again, to fight and to win.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Requesting to share this one to reach as many as possible, your share may save someone’s life.
I have never urged to share my posts. The purpose of this post is obvious. Do please share with all your near and dear ones.

The Living Phoenix

The Living Phoenix
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
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“Stop treating me as if I am only a woman!” she told the bank manager, who probably did not grasp the meaning of that sentence. Little did he know who he was dealing with.
Sharon Harmon Muir is a lady to beat most men. Right from Religion to Depression, she has fought her battles with the determination to win. She indeed won them, including her last battle with suicidal-level depression.
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4 years ago I met her with her husband Harry Muir, for some mild memory issues which turned out to be the symptoms of severe stress and depression. As she revealed the details of her life, I realized what an extraordinary life she had been living. When analyzing her own thinking and her art (painting), she said things that made me realize her genius.
I gave her a compliment I had rarely used: “You are one of the most brilliant minds I ever met”.She laughed aloud, looked at her husband, and winked “I told ya!”. Mr Harry was only too happy and proud.
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Sharon was born in South USA to parents who were mill workers. She started her theatre performances at the age of 13. She sold her first painting at the age of 15. She was actively involved in civil rights movement. Once while service in the church, a black couple was denied entry in the church. Sharon quit organized religion that day, protesting against racial prejudice.
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She went to an all-male institute of design and technology, University of North Carolina and later started teaching men at the same center to use power tools and build theater sets (That was in the 1960s!). She studied various art forms, ballet, composing music, painting and much more, also working as an electrician.

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She says: my job profile was easy: whatever anyone could not do, I offered to do it for them. Working at such odd jobs, she met Harry Muir, who was a political protester within the US army. As Harry was jailed, Sharon’s family opposed the marriage. She was even labeled “carni-trash” then. Together Sharon and Harry worked as college professors, musicians, fine artists, magicians, and stood for each other. Sharon got an excellent corporate job, so Harry decided to complement it by choosing to be a house-husband, cooking and serving and looking after their daughter, and when the daughter went to school, he spent his time as a street singer.
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At the age of 50, during menopause, the first attack of depression struck Sharon. In her own words, “It wasn’t me who was sad and suicidal, it was like someone else within me. I fought those thoughts, I knew I had to overcome this”. She developed severe panic attacks that prevented her from going out of their home. So she trained a Scottish terrier who would stop the traffic for her, take her to a safe place and then find Harry!They reached India in search of spirituality, finding it at Meherabad, and settled there. She continued to work as a painter and musician. “I was lucky that I could be the head of the family” she comments, although every time she speaks of Harry now, her voice becomes tender.
Once on a flight from Atlanta to Paris, Harry collapsed and was resuscitated. He was shifted to an ICU in Paris from the airport, and was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis (shrinking and progressive failure of lungs) of unknown origin. A few weeks later, they returned to India. In January 2016, Harry suddenly collapsed and passed away while in a hospital. Sharon kept on resuscitating her life partner of 50 years, till the hospital staff arrived after 8-10 minutes. She cannot forget that trauma.
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With this loss, her depression resurfaced again, stronger than ever.
The worst loss in life is not death, it is the loss of love. Once more, suicidal thoughts and severe depression engulfed Sharon. To be left alone in a foreign country at the age of 67 is not easy.
“My belief system is very strong. I know my intelligence is above average, so there was no reason I couldn’t do everything I wanted, if I just put my mind to it” she tells how she decided to overcome her depression. “I read about it all I could, tried to get help, and got it”. She is thankful for getting good medical help in India, although she adds with a wink “I didn’t want a doctor who pats my back and laughs aloud telling me not to worry. I wanted a doctor who understands me, my illness and my worries as well”.
After Harry’s death, she had to clear a lot of legal hassles and banking formalities. Her daughter helped her there. When one bank manager tried to behave high-handed thinking that she’s just a woman unable to cope up, she told him : “Stop treating me as if I am only a woman!”.
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When she visited me recently, she laughed a lot and told me: “This time again, I have chosen to defeat my depression. I will never give up. Back to life now”.
I usually keep busy, but when some patients talk, I want to listen to the beauty they create in my life. They expand my mindscape. When I asked Sharon what was her favorite subject for painting, she answered with a mysterious smile: “I paint the colors of the spirits of places”.
As I drank in the beauty of that sentence, I realized that the soul of this extraordinary woman can only have one title: “Phoenix”. The legendary bird is not imaginary, so long as we meet people like Sharon. This great magician called nature has given us the magical ability to be everything we want to be, to be happy, to win over any challenges we might face, just with a small trick: wanting to do it.
Sharon is an extraordinary example of that magic.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Thank you, Sharon Harmon Muir, for the permission to share the story of your extraordinary life.

Please share unedited for spreading awareness about fighting depression.

A Medical Lesson That Still Hurts

A Medical Lesson That Still Hurts
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Can’t you see I am with a patient? We can talk later. Or may be tomorrow” snapped my lecturer at Pallavi.

Pallavi was 26, had epilepsy herself, but used to sit in our OPD to help other epilepsy patients. She came from her home by local train, travelling over two hours, and went back after OPD to attend her father. She was on many medicines to control her fits and depression, still used to have frequent fits. An epilepsy surgery was not possible, my professor and lecturer who were her caretakers had explored almost every avenue for her. Some unfortunate patients do not respond well.

Obviously she could not get a job and sitting at home worsened her depression. She was quite good looking and kind. However, her father was bedridden with a paralysis attack, and had many problems, even bedsores. That stress made Pallavi cranky and always worried. With no source of income, she was dependent upon help from the staff at our municipal hospital. As she was too proud to accept money without working, my professor had eased her ego by requesting her to help other patients: OPD paperwork, forms, getting medicines, patient education and restrictions etc.

She would either consult us resident doctors or our teachers if there was anything wrong with her or her father. Sometimes her anxiety was too much to deal with, she often asked repeated questions. Some epilepsy and psychiatry patients have worst symptoms around menses, and even get combative.
Most government and corporation hospitals have a never ending line of patients. In that rush it became impossible to answer her repeated questions patiently, and someone or other usually had to either snap at her or prescribe her an anxiolytic. Sometimes being too kind or available results in more attention seeking.

“See if Pallavi is OK” my lecturer told me after a few minutes.

Sulking, Pallavi had gone to the pantry near OPD and sat alone. During our tea break myself and my colleague Dr. Sachin went there too. My thesis / dissertation submission was in final stages, where everything about it seems so pointless and meaningless. I had to submit it within two weeks. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Tea, Pallavi?” we asked her as she sat in the corner.
“No, Doctor. I’ve had it. Thank you” she said. We drank our tea in an invaluable silence.

She suddenly said: “Doctor, my father has started continuously calling me names. He uses very bad language. My headache becomes unbearable when he starts shouting.” She became tearful.
While having tea, I wrote her prescriptions for herself and her father too.
“Doctor, I want to talk” she said, “I need to sort out things in my life” she said.
“Pallavi, the OPD is still heavy, we will talk after lunch, ok?” I replied. It was 3 PM already. We finished tea and returned to the OPD.

A few minutes later, I heard her crying in my teacher’s cabin. “You must learn to be patient” my teacher was trying to pacify her while attending other patients who kept angrily rushing in, demanding their own time. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Pallavi got a call from home and left the OPD before it was over.
I went straight to the printer after OPD for the final corrections of my dissertation.

That evening we got the news that Pallavi had fallen off a local train, killing herself. No one knew if it was a suicide.

I have never been able to overcome that till now. What if I would have spent few more minutes, talked her in kinder words, pacified her better?

I learnt one of the most important and precious lessons that every doctor learns eventually: There’s no afterwards. Answer the patient in front of you NOW. Never deny time to one in genuine trouble. A minute of a doctor’s patience can save lives.

This became clearer later, this is true about everyone, not only doctors or patients; no one ever knows which one is the last meeting between any two. Now I make sure to only part with a proper goodbye, a smile and no bad feelings: apologise if I am wrong, forgive if the other one is. Some say that feels too formal, some think it is a way to impress others, or being excessively unnecessarily mannerful. But I know what I mean. There are no guarantees in life: about myself at least. Every goodbye is potentially final.

Patients never seem to stop. Everyone is in their own hurry, tired, pissed off . The doctor is the common point of venting problems, frustrations and also anger. Most doctors acquire the saintly art of not losing patience, raising voice in the worst of situations, but it is at the cost of being inhuman to themselves. To spend 12-16 hours every day (18-20 in case of resident doctors) among the angry, suffering and accusative without losing patience is not a joke. This is one reason why patients see irate/ less interactive doctors commonly and misinterpret it as “ego / pride / snobbishness” etc.

That said, since that incidence in our OPD, I do not refuse any question from any patient in front of me. I do not end the consultation unless I have answered their last question or the patient starts taking advantage by asking repeat or unnecessary questios.

Pallavi, I feel very sorry.
Patient First, Patience Highest, Always, for Every Doctor.
Thank you for the lesson.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Real Story. Identities masked. Please Feel Free To Share Unedited.