Tag Archives: Elderly

The Last Bullet For Indian Private Healthcare


© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Many doctors, nurses and other staff, police officers are dying due to corona exposure. Recently the quarantine period of doctors was cancelled. To add to this, very ridiculously, doctors’ salaries were reduced, and covid funds were deducted from even frontline warriors’ salary. This is like taking money from a soldier’s paycheck to fund the army!!

When I recently heard some people shouting about excess bills in hospitals, doctors not working etc., I felt like shouting back too, but one cannot argue with a sold TV screen.

For decades India has had
Excess urban crowding,
Very poor hygiene.
Very high poverty and illiteracy.
Lack of town-planning for slums.
Severe lack of state/ national healthcare infrastructure.
Tiniest budget for healthcare.
Perpetually under-functioning government hospitals. Every season hundreds die due to epidemics.

Where were you till before the pandemic? Who is responsible for all of the above? Do you want to discuss these factors which are responsible for the pandemic chaos today? Or now you just blame it all upon Doctors and Private hospitals?© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Only private doctors with small nursing homes and dispensaries, clinics were shouldering all healthcare needs that government hospitals could not provide. They had low profits and catered to middle and lower class. These were destroyed in last few years because of too many stringent regulations and costly licensing. Many closed down. Legal troubles by relatives, politicos supporting them and vandalising hospitals forced many private doctors to stop admitting patients. Protection to doctors was denied by almost all governments till before this pandemic.

Indian poverty is never ending, and charity cannot run anything perpetually unless there’s a strong fund generating mechanism supporting it. If someone expects that doctors charging 2 rupees fees are the ideal healthcare for all our medical needs, they should happily go to such a doctor. We highly respect them too, but it is their choice and there are obvious limitations to that. To develop advanced healthcare in India, higher profits were necessary for higher investment. Corporates, some businessmen and the likes of Mr. Ambani pitched in. Advanced healthcare with heart and liver transplants, complicated brain surgeries, cancer treatments came to India because of these investors. They accepted all the conditions of governments to accommodate over twenty percent poor, nonpaying patients via various schemes. The payments for running these schemes were delayed by various govts for years, and the hospitals were arm-twisted in still continuing to treat everyone. The only source of profits was private and some insurance patients who were paying a higher fees for facilities: from air-conditioning, food to choice of specialists. Higher quality of staff, especially nursing and technicians who can operate high end machinery and robotics requires very high salaries. Maintenance costs are heavy. A specialist cannot do much without such a very good team. Each of these requires good if not great salaries, as they are continuously invited by developed countries who pay far higher.

But then every patient wants the highest facilities, best staff and specialist team, with no payment or basic payment. There’s no concept of billing beyond actual price of medicines and room charges. Service and maintenance is considered a ‘free right’. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Even in this modern era of equality, a higher class Indian officer like a minister gets a higher room, better food and other facilities, even higher medical bill sanctions, whereas the labourer from his department gets minimum basic facilities and bill eligibility only for general ward. Law allows higher healthcare’s standards and payments for higher officials. Why do they even have classes in railways and airplanes? If a “Gareeb bechara” migrant wants to fly home, should we offer him road transport or compassionate air travel? Why don’t we do for all the poor something that you all expect doctors and hospitals to do?

We don’t mind if basic and emergency healthcare is uniformly cheap or free for everyone. But when you force a high-end medical commodity (skill-time-investment-staff) to be sold at a loss or extremely marginal profit, you kill the system.

Doctors do not differentiate when making a diagnosis or treating anyone from any financial/ power background. But the private hospitals must be allowed to cater to different classes, earning their profits. That is their only stimulus to grow forward, engage best personnel and bring advanced healthcare to India. Different governments have failed at maintaining high standards of healthcare in their respective set-ups (with some proud exceptions- but because that’s where our powerful go). Some hospitals indeed take more bills for better class of services, including staff, but none of them forces a patient to come to them. Even these hospitals never deny free emergency treatment to anyone.

“But isn’t healthcare a charity? Haven’t you taken oaths to serve?” our loudmouth hypocrites ask.

Yes we have taken an oath to serve everyone rich and poor equally, but no, we have not taken any oath to neglect our own health and well being. Yes we have taken an oath to serve, but we have not taken any oath to live in perpetual poverty and financial stress. Yes we are under an oath to do our best for every patient, but we will not be bending backwards to fulfil their unreasonable demands. Yes we want to save every life, even if it is dangerous , but we will not unnecessarily endanger our own life because someone forces us. We haven’t taken an oath to abandon our families. The Hippocratic oath does not ask any doctor to stay hungry, work without sleep, and do the unscientific because various governments cannot pay for adequate number of doctors. Still we are doing all this already. Let us be clear: we proudly and intellectually serve our country, but we refuse to be considered slaves of either the system or the society. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Capping bills in private hospitals will be the last bullet for all advances in healthcare development in India. Be prepared to go back to the chaos of ancient times in that case. Quality will suffer most: right from specialists to nurses to medicines. You can of course force one generation of doctors to work like this, under low cost and excess work. People aren’t fools to send their children to such hells of social slavery. Yes you read that right. There’s a difference between service and slavery. Do not attempt to turn medical service providers into slaves. It will backfire very sourly.

Instead of this, the government can invest in existing private healthcare players to create low cost infrastructure alongside their private hospitals, or privatising its own healthcare institutions with increased capacity. Our governments do have friends in very high places who can invest.

We love India. We are not against any particular government, and this post is not against any leader or party. But we do feel very strongly that healthcare decisions must be made involving everyone concerned, that this people-pleasing for short term will turn out to be a huge disaster in long run, and it will be irreversible. If any government thinks that cancelling hospital permits and doctors’ licences in a country with severe shortage of medical services is the right way forward, God help it.

If private and corporate hospitals start shutting down now, it will be permanent. India will then have to mostly rely upon prayers alone for healthcare. And of course those who think they know medical science more than doctors. India has no dearth of such “fatally self-medicating” ignoramuses.

Jai Hind

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

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Disoriented


© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Doc, he appears confused. He has delusions. He was very methodical and logical earlier. He had excellent deduction and was considered a genius among his colleagues. Yet now he himself does not understand that he is making gross mistakes in making simple decisions. He appears completely disoriented…” the lady gave me an update in a deeply concerned voice. The devastating fear of mental, intellectual decline of a beloved is not grasped by all. For want of simplicity, we term it dementia. However, the meaning of this term is far broader and deeper than what most people can grasp, and the mental agony that the spouse goes through is beyond many a people’s emotional basket too. Infections and low sodium levels can often worsen the mental-cognitive personality of the elderly. I advised her a few tests to be done urgently and returned to my quarantine chores.

Her words kept on echoing for some time in my mind. This pandemic has challenged what the humanity perceived as truth till date. Disoriented, demented, illogical, delusional: isn’t that what the whole humanity has become today? Hasn’t this virus uncovered our intellectual, emotional limitations and selfish vulnerabilities? Have we not become exactly what the best human souls taught us never to become: money minded selfish humanoids hiding behind facades of clever and intelligent, politically correct wordplays, fatally attracted to glamour and clamour, emotionally cut off from the world, concentrating upon our families, cults, religions and regions? And of course, intermittently well-crafting the social service façade by donations, our signature face on every penny.

Financial success and numbers have become the new, hidden definition of life. Some wisely hide the word ‘Financial’ in the prior sentence. We won’t be able to name any financially unsuccessful / poor geniuses from the fields of medicine, science, art and even sports. I do not hate capitalism, in fact I believe that wealth creators are the ones who fuel the world. But among these are the compassionate and human who would rather be a million short of their billion rather than destroying a competitor and his/ her business. Squeezing-twisting every arm in the giant machinery that governs laws to finish everyone else and engulf everything with a gluttony that is hailed as business acumen is a real tragedy unfolding right now. We very gladly become the proud cogwheels of such ‘man-eating’ giant machineries that bleed competitors to a certain death.

While never being able to make peace with our neighbours we speak of world peace. We cannot bring ourselves to acknowledge the good in our competitors and enemies, we cannot deal with those with a different religion or country, come what may! While excepting ourselves from laws and rules we blame and blast those others who break laws. While secretly cultivating the filthy “money is all that matters” gene in our next generation, we encourage blindness towards the moral, ethical bypasses required to earn humungous money. The amount of real happiness, truth and honesty that needs to be sacrificed to be extremely rich is the worst inheritance our next generations will have to suffer from. Clever Wordplays is the sociopolitical success mantra of today!

I had never thought that I will witness anything more emotionally traumatic after seeing the hundreds of dead bodies and bleeding, broken-bone victims during the Killari earthquake. Today’s migrant crisis appears to cause deeper wounds than that upon our soul. This is a very tragic question, but what causes more hurt: witnessing dead bodies or extreme suffering of the living? Millions of migrants facing the worst wrath of fate, walking under a scorching sun towards a faraway home with their children, some dying, some delivering on the roads, strong men and women labourers breaking down and wailing – will be a shameful and guilty memory which I will carry for the rest of my life. We have excess caps and shoes; they are walking in rude heat bare headed and barefoot for hundreds of miles. We are discovering new cooking skills, they are discovering new depths of hunger. We are complaining about broken air conditioners, they are gasping for a glimpse of their beloveds in their zuggi-zopdi. We are too comfortable and grateful knowing that we are not them.

That India is overpopulated appears to be our strength on social media. We can show how many million fans, hits and likes there are, but we cannot speak a word about a tragedy which happens right in our backyard. We are scared of the worst: socio-political ostracisation, defamation, destruction of a hard-earned reputation and closure of financial support for survival. An intellectual is more scared of losing freedom of creativity, giving his best to the world and so mostly decides to be a silent spectator around strongmen with their invisible socio-political weaponry. Society as a whole has never protected or rewarded its intellectuals, especially in backward countries.

This pandemic will go. Few will have changed their perceptions of the world. Few understand that anything requiring a crowd must please a crowd’s intelligence quotient. Because crowds gather for hate easier than for love. Look at what content gets the best response: hate mongering, roasts, nudity, vulgar language and sloganeering. None of these is a proud achievement of humanity, yet these are the top hits. Pleasing a crowd can entertain, can earn one money, fame and votes too, but cannot ever bring this world health, happiness or peace. Entertainment, although critically essential for a stress-free mind, although soul-awakening, will never be among the first essentials of reducing hunger, pain, disease and suffering. There indeed was a time when entertainment was creative, with art, literature, acting, music and sports, fulfilling for the soul, but now only the superficial, jaded antics and the gaudy glitter with numbers remains the identity of most entertainment forms.

We indeed are disoriented. Yes, I too am guilty of some such disorientation. I have consciously decided to change. I do not have all answers right now, but I better appreciate the bigger picture now. My perceptions of what matters most have further changed. My faith in human nature has been deeply wounded, but my hope has always won, and I will help it heal even now. The current crises just told me what human race truly needs. My wish to make everyone understand has decided to take a back seat. My wish to do what I can is in the driving seat now. My contribution will be probably too small, but I have started.

I want to be well oriented for the rest of my life.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

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Mumbai Diary -1. Deeply Yours

Mumbai Diary-1

Deeply Yours

After finishing the day-long opd at Lilavati Hospital Mumbai, I rushed out with an intention of driving back to Pune in four hours. An old friend- a junior doctor from Mumbai (don’t think too much in depth about her) was waiting for me in the lobby.

“There’s a Starbucks in the next lane. Have a coffee before you take off” she said. I am not a sinner to decline a coffee. And this beautiful genius doctor always enriched my soul in magical ways. Usually a double shot kenya roast espresso shoots up my IQ by a few hundred points and makes my brain tap-dance for atleast three hours. She sat in the car and we went to the coffee shop. There was no place to park, so she went in to get take-away cups and I waited in the car. The bandstand seashore was only three minutes away, We decided to go there. With Shahrukh and Salman living there, no one bothers to look at us in that area, and we can thus have a cool few minutes for coffee etc. (I repeat, don’t think too deeply about this).

Just a few feet away, an elderly fruit vendor with a ripened straight proud face, white hair and a thick white moustache was sitting with his legs folded backwards. The heaps in front of him were full, most likely he hadn’t had much business today. He stared at nothing in front of him, completely unaware of the rush hour noise.

I felt for him. I wanted to see him happy, help him without hurting his pride.

When my friend returned, I requested her “Hey, could you please do me a favour and get two kg apples from that uncle over there? Give him this, and ask him to keep the balance. Make it look polite and casual, as if at the spur of the moment“. I gave her some notes. We didn’t need to impress anyone, she would have naturally done it herself too, that’s the reason we have been friends for so long.

My friend returned with the apples, and I waited a few moments to sip some coffee, actually I wanted to witness the smile on that old fruit vendor’s face. He counted the money twice, smiled and came to our car, knocking at her window.

“Beta (my child), I have enough by the grace of God. I am happy. One has to account up there for everything they take without working for it” he pointed at the sky. Then he kept a large custard apple in my friend’s hands, and said “This if from me to you and your friend with the necktie”.

Then, smiling proudly, he went back and sat in his place.

Now, please think in depth about that.

©️Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Mumbai/ Pune

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Doughnuts, Laddoo, Anyone?

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

He was so cute and plump as a child, that everyone started calling him “Laddoo”. Soon this became his name. His parents were both hyper-educated, and both owned google browsers, so they studied about parenthood in-depth every day, and decided to provide Laddoo with the best parents and upbringing. They had many fights about how to do it right, but they took care that they never ever fought or argued in presence of Laddoo. They never raised their voice in front of him. Laddoo therefore grew up thinking that any arguments, disagreements or raising of voice was so uncivil and wrong. In a calm, disciplined home, he was being given the best of parenthood as suggested by the best parenting websites in the world.

Laddoo’s parents took care that he could only eat the most fresh and clean, organic food. Laddoo was proud that he did not eat garbage like other children of his age. He often envied those who could eat spicy, oily roadside food, especially the panipuri, kachori etc., but he remembered what his mom-dad had told him about the bacteria and viruses in such dirty food. So he never ate anything like that, but he started developing anger towards those indisciplined kids who could eat and digest anything they wanted. In the midst of beautiful, clean plenty, Laddoo started growing up resentful of everything around him. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande. At home though, Laddoo was always a prince. To encourage free thinking, his parents had decided never to shout at him or punish him. They chose only logical, scientific, calm explanations when he was wrong. Once a maid-servant who was cleaning their home shouted sarcastically at Laddoo: “You call yourself a grown up, can’t you keep your clothes in a little order?” Laddoo’s mom was shocked, she fired the maid immediately. “Such ignorant, stupid illiterates! These slumdwellers have no idea how to raise children!” she commented, patting Laddoo on his head.

“You are stupid, Mom, you and Dad both!” Laddoo shouted, “Why do you stay in India with such people around?” His mom was so thrilled to hear this, that she immediately WhatsApped Laddoo’s words to her friends’ group, adding “Laddoo has become so mature now, he’s speaking exactly what I think sometimes. I am so proud!”. Laddoo was pampered more. All that he wanted was being made available. If he did not get what he wanted, he would throw a tantrum, accuse his parents of cruelty, and write about his parents in his famous blog “Parents and Children’s Freedom”. He had many followers. His parents oozed with pride when they referred to their Laddoo as a “Child Celebrity Author”. His proficiency with cellphones and gadgets was their pet boast.

The thoughts that “I can be wrong, someone else can be better than me, someone else can grasp better, be more intelligent or successful” never crossed Laddoo’s mind. “What I think must be the final word” became his perpetual attitude. If at all anyone was successful in proving his mistake, Laddoo would immediately state how some fault of his parents, teachers or friends led him to commit that mistake. He freely used words that scared elders: abuse, violence, childhood trauma etc. This would usually hush up the matter, and Laddoo always kept on convincing himself and others that everything good that happened in his life was solely due to his own heroic efforts whereas everything bad that happened was the fault of someone else. His parents did not want to ever shake his self-confidence, so they never made an effort to correct him.

Once Laddoo spoke arrogantly and then argued rudely with his class teacher. She was so upset, that she scolded him in front of the class, called him stupid, and gave him a punishment of standing for an hour till the class was over. After returning home that day, Laddoo complained of severe pain in both legs and giddiness. He was taken to the best child specialist, then a neurologist. “There’s nothing major, please take him to a counsellor” they were told. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande.

“Indian doctors really cannot understand a thing” said Laddoo’s father, and sent his reports to Laddoo’s aunt in the USA. The experts there commented that the child may have suffered a mental trauma due to the scolding and punishment by his teacher. Laddoo’s parents immediately filed a police case, wrote blogs against the school and the teacher, and then also complained to the school about the teacher with threats of legal prosecution. It was only after the teacher and the school apologised to Laddoo, that the cases were withdrawn, and his pain and giddiness improved. No teacher ever scolded Laddoo throughout his career thereafter.

Now Laddoo is heading a major company in California. His useless, old parents live in an old-age home, pretending to be happy. They believe that their beloved Laddoo does not see them regularly because of their own parenting faults. They cannot express this to others, they just tell people “He is extremely busy”. Laddoos parents also truly believe that his success in grabbing a great job is the highest achievement of their life.

Laddoo does not have any friends. He only has drink-n-game partners in luxurious clubs. His first wife left him long ago (“She was ridiculously orthodox, she wanted to grow up kids and all”). His second wife owns a company in Washington DC, they meet twice a year. Both of them tell people how they are victims of childhood traumas., especially when they fail competing with those “unruly, ridiculously happy” colleagues. They have decided never to have children so as to compensate for their childhood traumas, bullying by friends, teachers and parents etc. “We cannot afford time for such traditional lives” they mutually agree. They believe, understand and cover each-other’s lies so effectively, that they find it difficult to grasp why others around them cannot accept those.

Laddoo does not like anyone arguing, asking him questions. “Geniuses like me do not owe an explanation to anyone” he says, often freely quoting the likes of Newton, Einstein and Steve Jobs. No one really wants to interact with him now a days. Just as people avoid the spoiled brats of rich fathers, knowing that they are beyond any resurrection, they avoid Laddoo too. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande.

“Thay are all jealous about me, my genius, my success” Laddoo thinks. His wife agrees. Both of them spend their time at home and work blaming the whole world, showing people down, being bitter to the happy ones, and repeating the stories of how they suffered in the past, how they struggled through those imaginary problems and how heroic they have been to reach where they are now. They compliment each other like the two halves of a doughnut.

I meet such Laddoos and doughnuts (men and women) everywhere now a days. They are frequent among Doctors, Patients, Engineers, Lawyers, Businessmen etc., but also very common in big offices, major posts in the governments and managements, professors, judicial offices, ministers and even among rulers.

Do you meet any?

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

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To pause for respect

To pause for respect

To pause for respect

© Dr Rajas Deshpande

After completing the neurological examination, I asked Mr Harkishan Budhrani to sit down and put his shoes on. His son accompanying him got up, sat near his father’s feet and started to adjust his father’s shoes for comfort.

To pause for respect was my only choice.

Mr Harkishan Budhrani is a British citizen, and so are his sons Mr Naresh and Mr Raj. Every time one of them accompanies Mr. Budhrani for the consultation. They not only come prepared with their father’s health details, but also take notes and follow all the suggestions. Yet what is most noticeable for me as a doctor is the care and respect with which they speak to their father and treat him. There’s nothing artificial about their attitude, which makes it special! They take his permission for every change we agree to make, explain him and patiently wait for his consent and questions. They hold his hand and even ask him whether it is ok to walk ahead! Rarely do we see children from very affluent families being so careful and loving to their parents.

In an era where many a times sons and daughters accompanying their parents either bluntly ask “How long is the parent going to survive, What basic minimum can be done without much expenditure, Is it okay not to treat at all” etc., when we come across such extremely gratifying moments, I feel that all is not lost. By experience now I don’t think that this belongs specifically to Indian culture, in fact people from most cultures in the world treat their parents far better than many Indians. The very fact that Our govt and courts have to make laws and take steps for abandoned and neglected parents speaks a lot about what is happening. In fact, the more affluent a family is, the less likely that the children genuinely care for their parents.

Taking for granted that the parents do not want to live longer, deciding on their behalf that expensive treatments are useless and unwanted, oversimplifying all complaints as ‘age related’ and completely neglecting medical care are common observations in our practice.

This moment therefore brought me a beautiful ray of hope.

21st July 2018 is Mr. Harkishan Budhrani’s 85th Birthday. While I pray for his excellent health and perpetual happiness, I wish that every parent is as fortunate as him and that Mr Budhrani lives on many more hundred years as an example for all of us.

©️ Dr. Rajas Deshpande

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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“What If This Was Your Father, Doctor?”

“What If This Was Your Father, Doctor?”
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
 
“Doctor, I want to know about this illness. I want to understand it” she said.
It had taken me an entire medical career and a lot of experience to understand this disease in steps, no neurologist in the world claims to have fully understood it. It was my duty to simplify things for her, but it was impossible to transfer years of knowledge and experience in few minutes. I decided to give it a try. If I learn to understand the patient and relative one step more, I will be a better doctor hopefully. This lady, with her Prada and Dior accessories, also appeared well educated.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
 
“Your father has frontotemporal dementia, a condition that causes progressive loss of memory and abnormal mentation, thoughts, or behavior. This is because certain parts of his brain degenerate faster.” I started.
“One minute doctor” she interrupted “How does that explain why he starts undressing, passing urine anywhere in front of others, even children or guests? He uses such foul language sometimes”.
 
I hate being interrupted. Especially when someone butts in a second question before I finish answering the first. But I must accommodate the patient’s and the relative’s anxiety.
“That is because we have an area in the brain that controls our behavior, stops us from doing social-inappropriate things. This is why we stop from doing certain things in certain situations, while we retain the ability to do them in privacy. That is called inhibition. When those areas in the brain degenerate, there is thus a ‘disinhibition’, whereby the patient does not know what is inappropriate. Somewhat similar to losing mental control after taking alcohol”.
“So the blood supply is cut off in the brain?” she fired.
“I never said that. I said this is due to degeneration. The cells in his brain die faster. Although at this age loss of blood supply is an additional reason for worsening”. When you know too much of something, it is difficult to not confuse.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
 
You know, I am no Mangeshkar or Tendulkar myself, but this is like asking Lataji “I want to understand music and sing that song just like you” or telling Sachin “I want to make a century like you right now. Teach me cricket in ten minutes”. What they have learnt in decades with extreme hard work cannot be taught / understood or explained in few minutes. I can explain it in a nutshell, but it is not possible to ensure that the relative or patient “completely understood” everything I knew. But then again, the better this lady understood the disease, the better she will care for her father. So I decided another approach.
 
“Ma’m, I request you to please read about this disease from these two websites. Then write down your questions and please book another appointment. We will save a lot of random discussion then.” I told her.
“Ok Doctor” she agreed reluctantly “But tell me what you would have done if this was your father. I thought that with so many advances and researchers, there must be some good cure by now for such diseases” she said. The hidden disdainful sarcasm didn’t escape me. I ignored it.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
 
“Now please tell me the list of all medicines that your father is currently taking, and their doses” I asked her.
She emptied a huge bag upon my table, with over 20 medicines from different pathies, some unlabeled, and including some bottled oils. She started asking her father one by one, he wouldn’t reply.
“I don’t know doctor” she said, frustrated. “He lives alone near my house, and takes these medicines by himself. We lost my mom few years ago. I guess some of these oils are for his massage”.
Some of those medicines were past an expiry date. The old man hadn’t a clue what he was taking.
 
“But you just told me he has severe memory problems and cannot understand much” I questioned.
“Yes, but we thought he knew what medicines he was taking” she said.
I did not want to embarrass her further.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
“Ma’m, wouldn’t it be better if you understood the daily necessities of your father before you questioned anyone else about his disease? You can ask the doctor any number of questions, it is my duty to answer them. But I would definitely not have left my father to look after himself in such a situation.”
“No, doc, we are looking for a care center for him already. I cannot look after him, I have my own family and the kids need all my attention”.
“Then please stop blaming the medical researchers for not finding a cure for everything. Please accept that everyone ages and needs care, the same care that you were provided as a child”.
I didn’t want her to be unhappy, it was also my prerogative to understand her situation. I reassured her:
“Please read about this well, and come back next week, I am sure that at least a few problems can be resolved. I want to help you and him”.
 
What would happen if there was a cure for everything? How many of them elderlies will be taken care of, provided for? How long will their children look after them? In most cases, even the healthiest of parents are considered a nuisance once they have grown up the grandchildren. After that, they become an irritating liability.
Then, the annoyance of having to look after them, the exasperation of even a small illness they may have, and the extreme anger to have to spend time and money for their healthcare / treatment is all unloaded upon the doctor. While we are learning to deal with this in our everyday practice, I have decided to spend an extra minute to educate the family about their own responsibilities in every such case. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande
 
As she left the room she asked “Doc, he is elderly, you must give him some concession”.
I smiled. This wasn’t a medical question. It was my turn not to reply now.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
 
Please share unedited.

The Sweetest Pinnacle Of Life

The Sweetest Pinnacle Of Life© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

To many students who are lost in their search for the right aims and goals in life, who trusted me enough to ask that question, I have suggested that they imagine what they actually want in their life at its Pinnacle.

Success, riches, fame, awards and accolades, a legacy, achievements are all good to show and leave behind oneself. The truth is far more than that. Love and care, affection and respect in one’s evening of life is what everyone deserves, but few are fortunate to achieve. For what good is s life that spends its aged years in desolation, isolation, despair of an uncaring, loveless family one has sacrificed much to bring up well?

Hollow words of “show- love” and “pretend care” are commonly employed everywhere, especially among the rich, educated and culture-claiming pundits of humanity.

One experience I have is worth sharing: that the poorest of the poor, like the farmer in the wheelchair here, are cared for with far more genuine love and affection than many. This family collected alms and help to get him to India, and never asked for any concessions, free treatment etc., always saying they were willing to do anything for the happiness and health of this grandpa. His son standing by his side is an illiterate farmer, but is caring for his father . quoting proudly “He brought me up!”. There is no smell of “I am obliging my parent” in his behaviour.

I have met hundreds of Arabic Muslim patients who care for their parents, sons and daughters equally well, willing and with total faith in the treating doctor. It does not change with their financial status. They insist on the parents staying with them, ask questions about their food, exercise, medicines, happiness and comply strictly with the given instructions.

They naturally do not know the words “Culture, Rights, Medicolegal, Elderly care, Nursing Homes, Mercy Killing etc.”. Rarely have I seen them unemotionally “okay” with a bad diagnosis of a parent.

This old man, in my personal opinion, is one of the luckiest human beings upon earth!

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Thank you, Mr. Naser Ali, Mr. Abdul Hakim Mohd. Al Malahi, Mr. Majdi Jamil Aiselwi, Mr. Ahmed Anwar Aqlan!

The Tortured Beloved

The Tortured Beloved
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“I want to kill my father, Doc. Is there any way?” said the polished lady.

Used to a life full of shocks, cruelty and in general many negative shades of human behaviour, we learn to mask emotions to avoid turning off the patient /relative from telling us the whole truth.
This was a googly, and I made a conscious effort to retain my composure.

Thirty-something, very posh and from a high class cultured family, this lady was one of those who automatically garner respect of people around them. What she said didn’t fit in with the mental image she had impregnated upon my mind. Could she be one of the “PSY” cases?

“I live with two daughters aged 9 and 14. My mom passed away 10 years ago. My husband stays away as he cannot tolerate my father. My father was a military officer, retired with many honours. About 5 years ago he started forgetting things. We took him to many doctors all over India, they said he had dementia. Two-three years ago he started abusing in the worst filthy and obscene language we never thought he could use. He also started getting naked anywhere, and doesn’t care if myself, daughters or neighbours are around. He passes urine deliberately when in public and around us. He also makes attempts to sexually abuse us all, and tried more than once to grope the maids, who then left. We had a hard time when a maid filed a police complaint. I could not dump him as no one else can look after him. So I nursed him at home, and my husband who could not tolerate this daily abuse left us to stay in another state.” She started sobbing. All I could offer was a few tissues and a coffee.
I waited for her to speak again.

“I am sorry”, she said in a wet, guilty, embarrassed and one of the most pained voices I have heard. “I love my father as much as I love my husband. I could not dump my father. But then I cannot let my daughters go through this every day. They are terrified and have started behaving strange. We took him to many psychiatrists, and they gave medicines which kept him calm, but he developed too many side effects and could not move out of bed. Now he refuses to take any medicines and if we force him, he gets violent.” Again amongst sobs, she showed me her blue-black swollen shoulder.
“I have to tie him up to his bed and lock his room at night, but he keeps shouting. Our neighbours have started asking us to either dump him or move out of the society. The old age homes do not accept such patients.”
“I am a personality development counsellor, but my work is suffering now, I have lost my smile. I have lost my life. I cannot die, I have two kids to grow up. So I want my father to die. Is there any legal / medical way to kill him?” and then a volcano of unvoiced pain of years wailed out through her throat. She kept her head on the table and cried.

It was unprofessional, but I had to get up and pretend to wash hands just to be able to wipe tears in my own eyes.

Fronto-temporal Dementia, a cousin of Alzheimer’s dementia is a condition in which along with progressive memory loss, there is abnormal behaviour, delusions, sexual inappropriateness etc. It happens due to degeneration in some parts of brain. Progressive for about five-12 years, till patient develops some fatal complication.

This was not totally new. I remember many patients who are tied up at home, beaten up cruelly by their family, and left to die due to this kind of behaviour. This tragic management is also commonly meted out to many psychiatry patients who are burnt, injured with sharps, shackled and tied to beds / trees, kept with head under running water and even poisoned / sedated with herbal or even allopathic medicines to ensure safety of those around them.
Few years ago, one family of bodybuilders (all five brothers in land business) admitted their father with the complaint “he burnt himself with hot water in bathroom”. There were many bruises too. “He fell at home.” They told. When the sons left, the servant told the resident doc: “They (patient’s sons) threw boiling water upon his genitals after tying and beating him, because he tried to touch his eldest daughter in law”. This patient had severe parkinsonian features too, so was not able to move much due to stiffness. They had beaten him up and burnt him in that condition!

The lady in front of me regained her calm in few minutes. I explained her what many Neurologists and Psychiatrists may have earlier told her many times, about such being the nature of this disease. However, we have many safer medicines to control psychosis now. I wrote her a prescription and promised her that I will try and locate a “Care center” for such patients with this severe level of psychosis. There were none in that city. The next option was to hire a male servant and rent a small single room apartment with attached toilet nearby where she could shift her father. Sedatives (sleep medicines) at night were required.
Her husband shifted back. The family appeared to gradually recover from the mad-bad days.

As much as we need the doctors to explain the family about such illnesses, we also need to educate the society about such conditions, and care homes for these patients. Inhuman beating up, tying down, injuring, poisoning etc. humiliating fates by one’s own children is probably the worst that can happen to a human being.

When the lady came to visit with her daughters few months later, her cute daughters wished me mannerfully. We all grown-ups avoided the topic of “Sick Grandpa”. However, the 9 year old, while leaving, boldly asked her mom’s permission to ask me a question.

Then, looking straight in my eyes, the kid asked me “Doc, why did God do this to my Grandpa? Is it possible to cure him? We used to enjoy so much together, I was his dearest. It is ok if he hurts me, I want him back”.

I cursed my stunned wits. “He will get better soon, dear” I lied to the cutie.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The Brain-Alive Heart-Dead.

The Brain-Alive Heart-Dead. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande “We don’t want her to suffer. We don’t want any ventilator etc. treatments”. Said the calm son, no traces of emotional tones in his speech. His mother was admitted last night with stroke. Quite a sophisticated family, this son owning a company of repute. His teenager daughter was sitting by her grandma in the ICU, patting her unconscious forehead. “Can she hear us doctor?” the distraught daughter asked. “Sometimes, only when she is a little more conscious”.. It is difficult for me to be emotionally rude. “Because I want to talk to her only once more.. to say sorry.. I was sulking after a fight with her when this happened.. I should never have fought with her…” the sweet soul broke down. Her father tried to calm her. This is where I received the first shock. His pacifying his own daughter had a formality. It did not suggest “I am proud of your emotional bond with my mother”… It rather suggested “Grow up, you stupid, these things happen”. As I walked out of the ICU, his wife wished me. “How is Ma, doc?” she asked, accompanied by her brother. I told her the truth: “Fluctuating, but critical still”. Then the expected question: “How long, doc? We don’t want her to suffer too much”. “Sorry, can’t say at present”. If I myself ever had an accident, I want to live. I want my doctor to try the best to make me survive, to give me one more chance to see and touch and hear my dear ones. I want to say sorry to those I may have offended, and also to say proper goodbye to those who love me. I will not want my family to decide whether the doctors should try their best for me or not. I have asked this very question to some people I have faith in the sanity of. The answer rarely was “Don’t save me if it took a lot of effort”. Some classified further: “If I was to remain in a vegetative state permanently, then alone let go”. Most of my old / very old patients explicitly state that they want to live as much as they can, with as much health that they can get. Nobody except the depressed / frustrated actually say that they want to die, a statement in itself contradictory to their being in the hospital. I have had differences with some colleagues who “Let Go” and encourage the willing family to make the same decision. It is useless, they argue, to spend so much and try for such a small possibility of meaningful survival. Patient must be able to choose dying with dignity, they advocate. Many of my colleagues differ like myself, and for a reason: if the patient has expressed a wish prior in complete senses that he / she wants no resuscitation / effort to be made for their survival, then a doctor must respect that. But I think NO one else can make that decision on behalf of the patient after they have lost senses. An unconscious patient is still alive until he / she is brain dead, and it automatically becomes a duty of the doctor to make all efforts to try for the best outcome. There are many sweet excuses people quote, including suffering, dignity, torture, tubes, pain etc. to justify “letting the patient die”. The real reasons often are: expenses, time, hard work, stress, uncertainty associated with an elderly being ill and the perceived “uselessness” of a debilitated / old / disabled person in the family, adding to the future bills. Elderly do not even have emotional value in many families now. We are in a world where people have learnt the tact of carrying out entire discussion hypocritically, knowing that both are actually lying, but still pretending to understand each other. Such discussions decide the fates of hundreds of unfortunate old and unconscious patients who then become victims of “Lacklove” decisions made by the very people they gave birth to and grew up! Expenses can be reduced by offering care in smaller nursing homes / govt. hospitals. The decision of whether the patient will live or not should not be open to discussion about patients who have NOT written a will against their own treatment. If the patient is “Brain-Alive”, treatment must continue. For no team of Neurologists / experts in the world will guarantee the outcome on the bad side: there are always chances of regaining meaningful consciousness in every patient who is not brain dead. And we the living who attempt every day taking whatever tiny chances we get to survive, to grope more and more of life we can should be the last people to say “Let Go” when it comes to someone else’s life. It would morally amount to a murder. “We hear some doctors keep dead bodies on ventilator in the ICU just to extract more money” said one “business minded” friend to me once. We doctors are trained against violence as it hurts the very human body we are meant to guard. So I answered him verbally only: “With all hospitals almost running full, critical patients in waiting areas why would any hospital keep on ventilating the dead?”. There are monitors, files, paperwork, and many doctors, nurses, other staff in each critical care unit: how can people imagine that the dead will be kept on machines in such units? Or is it just another social trick to mask the mirror of reality? A small question: If the hospitals start declaring who all chose to “SHUT DOWN” life support systems upon their own relatives / parents, took such critical patients home, admitted them late beyond life-saving period, will the society be happy about it? Then why make such gruesome allegations against a whole profession who even bring some dead back with immense effort, without even knowing them? Why do you think thousands of “Code Blue” teams run without caring for their own life when someone is dying, anywhere in the world? God knows how many doctors pay patient’s bills, especially in emergency. So many doctors start the treatment in corporate hospitals, accepting the responsibility for patient’s bills as relatives come unprepared (no corporate hospitals move without advance or insurance except in emergency). There are also many relatives who don’t sleep, don’t even eat till their patient regains consciousness. There are many who silently suffer with the patient. Many sell their belongings to pay hospital bills and still tell the doctor “Try your best doctorsaab, don’t worry about anything. I will pay every bill”. These, unfortunately, are the illiterate, poor, rural and real human beings. These two: the doctors and relatives who try to save the critical, especially old patient desperately are both being classified under “Impractical, Stupid” people gradually. Because our society has matured to money. As I met the patient next day, still in the twilight zone between life and death, there was no one with her except the granddaughter with swollen eyes. She exclaimed, smiling through her tears: “Doc, she opened her eyes and looked at me for a few seconds… She didn’t say anything, but I knew she recognised me and she was happy to see me.. I know her eyes.. she was awake in that moment” and she broke into sobs. Mercy in the skies often comes alive only with love. The patient regained her senses in a week. As she asked for discharge, holding her grand-daughter’s hand, she looked at her son standing by, and proudly told me “Doc, this is my son.. He owns the XYZ company.. He takes very good care of me”’ Avoiding eye contact with anyone, he hugged his mother and said “I love you Ma”. His teenage daughter kept staring at the floor. I looked at her face. I don’t wish to see that extremely scary expression again. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande