FAMILY DOCTOR - LAST GENERATION

It was in 1976. I fell ill and went to a doctor near my house. He examined me with a stethoscope and took my temperature, and asked me to take paracetamol. He also asked me to record my temperature and meet him 2 days later. He charged me Rs. 10 for the consultation.

That  day I had fever. Then there was no fever the next day. There was fever the day after that. I met him and told him. He said, “ Ah, Malaria. He prescribed chloroquine, one tab twice daily for three days. He did not take any consultation fee that visit. The medicine cost Rs. 6. I was fine within three days. He became my family doctor.

I finished my studies, and later became a medical representative. I met him now as a representative too.

I got married, a within  a year and half , was blessed with a son. Even though he was a very good doctor, he refused to treat my son as he felt that, that was the job of a pediatrician. He was very clear about being true to his profession.

Once  in 1988, my wife came down with chronic cough. She used to cough day and night. I had changed my residence to an area far away from his clinic, so I took my wife to another doctor who was close by. He prescribed cephalexin, which did not work. We went to a specialist, who preferred amoxicillin, which too did not have any effect. After three weeks of continuous cough, we met our family doctor. He saw both the prescriptions, and said, “ The medicines are right, only the dosage is not enough.”  He now prescribed a strong dosage of doxycillin, and within two days the cough vanished. The consultation had now become Rs.30.

In 1993, as I got up one early morning at 4 AM, to go to the toilet, I felt as if some one had pushed me against the wall. I was dizzy like crazy. I somehow managed to crawl into the bed, and lay worrying, about a probable brain tumor. 

I met him that morning, and told him my worry. He laughed, and asked me what significant changes I had made in my diet in the recent past. I told him I had got some free cheese, which I was hogging with relish. He said, “That is the reason for your vertigo. Fat and sweets decrease the circumference of the blood vessels. When someone is young, such a decrease does not cause any problem, as the blood vessels are healthy. But as one touches 40 years, the blood vessels become narrow due to aging. Further decrease due to diet leads to diminished blood flow to the brain, leading to vertigo.”

He asked me to lay off deep fried snacks, and frank sweets. With diet control, my vertigo vanished, never to come back.

A year later I developed high fever of 105 degrees. This fever never dropped, and on my doctor’s advice I took 6 hourly doses of paracetamol. This continued for 5 days, and I was getting worried. I asked him over phone , whether I should admit myself in a private hospital. He said ,” Wait till tomorrow morning 8AM. If the fever does not come down by then, do get admitted.  A patient of mine got admitted yesterday , and after doing all the tests, when his temperature returned to normal, they discharged him , with a bill of Rs. 12000. This is a new type of viral fever, and it will come down by the 6^th day.” Predictably I became normal by 8AM.the next day.

In 2003, when my father had his third heart attack, the doctors in the hospital prescribed a dozen medication, when they discharged him. My dad was a very talkative man. But after taking all the medicines, he sat listless, and drugged. Very often he used to faint, because a medicine which was given to reduces the work load of the heart also resulted in less supply of blood to the brain.

I took  the prescription, and showed it to our family doctor. He told me that none of the medicines prescribed would prevent another attack, and said that he would like to make some changes , in the prescription, provided I trusted him to do so. My experience with him for many years, had led me to have total faith in him. I said I trusted him. He just retained 2 of the 12 medication. Within days my dad improved and was his usual chirpy self.

Few months later, my father went into a coma. I did not know what to do. I pondered whether I should  keep him home or admit him in hospital?

My family doctor, came home, checked my dad, and gave me 2 alternatives. Either put a naso gastric tube and feed my dad, or put my dad in hospital on a ventilator.

I opted for the home treatment, and within 10 days my dad passed away gracefully, in peace, in his home, and thankfully not in a impersonal hospital ICU, fully invaded by tubes and machines.

I still visit him as a patient for all ailments and not once has he misguided my family. Today his fee is Rs. 150., in 2014.

He does not have a crowded clinic, but has his steady patients who believe in him. A bachelor, he spend much time updating himself on latest treatment  algorithms, and seeks to give the right treatment for all his patients. He also recommends his patients to responsible specialists, for diseases which need a specialized care.

Having a responsible family doctor, is a blessing. I have been blessed for 38 years. Now as he too is aging I pray for his good health and long life.

"FROM MONDAY"

Post retirement I was seeking employment. I had applied to many companies. I also considered tutoring in Spoken English institutions. Since I had been a trainer all these years, I even thought of joining a school as a teacher. 

I went to a nearby school to which I had applied, attended an interview. They requested a demo class on English grammar. The next day I made a presentation. The authorities were satisfied and asked me to join the next day.

I went to the school t 8.30 AM, the next day and for the entire month inducted in teaching methods, for classes 3 to 6. At the end of induction they allotted me English reading, grammar, history, geography and music.

I was fifty eight years then.

I was used to the silence of corporate offices. All the organization I had worked for, had central AC.  I was used to working in comfort also. The candidates whom I had trained till then, were mostly over 22 years of age. They sat in silence through out the lectures. There was no strain on the vocal chords. They also did their assignments without having to be pushed.

My school was a total contrast to this. It had no AC. But, it was well ventilated. In spite of this there was this constant sweating, and by the end of the day, I smelt fowl.

The single most striking feature of any school is the high noise levels. Students were talking most of the time, and hardly settled down. More than teaching keeping the class silent was very difficult. If you could get a maximum stretch of 5 minutes of silence, then it was an achievement. Then within seconds everyone was happily talking. Every  five minutes I was busy banging the duster on the bench to ensure that every one pipe down. To be heard I had to shout, and by the evening my throat hurt with all the yelling.

My entire attitude towards the children changed. Earlier I used to love children. But  now I saw them as, as heartless brats who had no consideration for their teachers.  So I was most times yelling at them to keep quiet, and settling petty quarrels, about a pencil or an eraser. My face developed a permanent scowl.

Then, there was this morning and evening prayers, enforced on all students. The student did not give a damn, about getting close to God, and said it as a ritual. But the management was in earnest, about getting the Gods into the school premises, with the chorus chants.

For a person used to practicing silent meditation, I found the prayer exposure traumatic.

The students never walk. They run especially in the corridors. The school corridor was the best place for a teacher to be pushed down, by students  chasing each other. Certainly very dangerous.

One  Saturday evening after the student had left, I stood alone in the corridors, savoring the silences.  Then I thought, what had I got myself into? Certainly this is not where I belong. I was clueless when I was a student. I had hated school, for nothing taught there appealed to me except English. I was creative. I could have used that valuable time to paint, to sing,to dance or to write or exercise.  Boy, I heaved a sigh of relief when I was over with formal education.  Now I realized it was not the place for me either as a student or  as  a teacher.

That evening, as I slowly reached home, I got a call from a pharma company to join them as a trainer. When they asked me when it be convenient for me to join, I replied without batting an eyelid, "Day after tomorrow, From Monday.” 

Permanence in transition

2013 ended very badly for me. It was the last day, December 31^st, when my colleague passed away. He died of pneumonia.  He was only 36 years old when he died. I met him in October 2013, just 2 months before his demise. 

Post retirement, I was seeking jobs, and landed one as training manager, in a Pharma company near to my residence.

I joined the company on October 7th. As I walked towards the office that Monday, a person was getting down from an auto-rickshaw. Young and slightly bulky, with prominent belly, he steadied himself with the help of a walking stick. He limped to the door, and I followed him. We introduced ourselves.

He said his limping was due to an accident when a moving two- wheeler had rammed into his knee and had broken the knee bone to small bits. After surgery, and 5 months of recuperation he too had joined duty recently.  

Most time his walking stick used to slide and fall down, as he rested it in odd places.

I had to train him in methods to improve his presentation skills. He was from interior of Tamilnadu, and though he spoke well in English, there was ample scope for improvement.

He took in my suggestions, and showed slow improvement.   

Within a month he opened up and shared with me details of his life. He had 2 sisters both of whom were brave, and exceptionally talented. But both were now content to play the role of house wives, a very normal sacrifice women make for their families, in India.

His was a love marriage. He had fallen for his childhood friend, and their friendship had turned into love.  His parents had opposed the marriage, and he had waited patiently for 3 years to get their approval. But they were adamant. So informed them about his plans and one day got married in a simple ceremony, with the help of friends.  It was an economical marriage, costing just Rs.5000.    

The parents came around, when he was blessed with a daughter. He found it difficult to manage his child, as his wife was a working woman. He left the office sharp at 6PM, to take over his daughter from his wife as she rushed off to work night shifts.

He had plans of becoming an entrepreneur , and toyed with the idea of marketing green dip tea.

Casual and yet ambitious, he was always cheerful.

Within weeks of knowing each other, he complimented me on my dress sense, envied my trim figure, and  appreciated the smell of my perfume. He  used to dress well, he told me, but had lost interest after the  accident. Now after meeting he said he felt inspired to dress better.

He used to come down with episodes of coughing, and used to self treat, himself with            anti- biotics.

One Sunday when his chest started aching with each cough, and he stared spitting blood with sputum he got admitted in the emergency ward of a private hospital. As his condition worsened, the doctors shifted him to the ICU, and put him on ventilator. In spite of the best antibiotics administered, he did not respond and he breathed his last at 5 AM, that morning.

Too young to die, he left behind a young widow, a small child and aged parents who had hoped to depend on him in their old age.

Had his parents had an inkling, maybe they would have attended his marriage. If he could foresee, maybe he would have spared his lady love of wedlock.

Only if we could foresee the future, our perspectives of life would be so different. All of us know about the fleeting nature of human life. We see enough evidence of it in the obituary columns everyday. Death spares no one. It treats, the young and old alike. But we hardly learn from life. If only we could live each moment as it were the last one. If we could only  be kind to everyone we meet, spread love and laughter through each day. If we could exchange understanding for ego, love for hatred, kindness for cruelty, and laughter for meaningless sadness, then we may not feel so much for the dead.

It is so much better to spare a kind word for the one who is alive, than shed a tear for the dead.

I hope that this incident on the last day of 2013, helps me to live 2014 as a better, kinder, and a loving person. I hope it not only teaches me to be kind to my loved ones, but also tolerant to those who challenge my goodness with their mindless attitude. 

Curious case of muralidhar button

It was in 2006 I moved to a new organization as a trainer. I had been working for 20 years steadily with an organization, which closed down, due to mismanagement issues. So, I was forced to relocate.

 Even as a student I was an introvert, a loner and had few friends. I used to keep to myself and did not interact unnecessarily with people. But, I had a spontaneous and a crazy sense of humor, which kept the boredom away.

Then I happened to interview a young guy, for our company. He was 28 years old then..

He had a level head, on his shoulders, was well mannered, hard working and was well behaved.

We had to conduct training programs together, and for the first time we travelled together. It was to Chatisgarh. It was his first trip out of South India. For the journey he had come well prepared with some good premium brand of whiskey and a flask of cold ice. No sooner the train left the station, he started going on the rocks. I denied his offer, as it was a long time since I had boozed, and I could not afford to take risks at my age, especially while travelling. It was a long journey, and in spite of continuously drinking, he never appeared drunk or blabbered.

We finally reached our destination. After we checked in we decided to drink together.

Drinking with him was a pleasant experience, as he shared the same sense of humor I had, and within no time, we were rolling over with laughter.

I felt 15 years younger, as jokes came out tumbling out of us and felt that I was not as boring as I had believed myself to be.

We attended many trainings together, and found that we could have as much fun when sober and more when high.

He was half my age, and with his habit of pulling my leg every other second, he upgraded me  and my reaction time in giving counter comments, to someone of his age group.

He was a person who would find an opportunity for fun in the most un-imaginable situations.

Once it was pouring non stop rains in Chennai, and I was on his pillion, and both of us were soaked to the skin.  At one point the traffic simply did not even inch forward, as happens in Chennai even when there is the slightest rainfall. 

He simply got a packet of fried items [ kara boondi], shoved it on the handle and ate scoop by scoop, in the rains. Then we got down, had some  steaming tea, all the while chatting non stop.

The more our interaction, the more I became younger in mind.

I rediscovered  my laughter, my optimism, and it was his cheerful nature which reversed my mental aging process.

Three years later, we moved from that organization, and joined different firms. I imparted knowledge to young students, with the same enthusiasm and jokes and fun which had become a part of me, thanks to my mentor of laughter. I was simply the most affectionate and popular teacher. For in me, I was young again, and this quality showed.

When I was young I had read in a quote, “There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”

Your life can be touched and made richer by any one. Only we have to be a source or a reflection of inspiration.

LUCKY EUNUCHS

Long back I had been to Bombay. I should have been about 35 years old then. As my auto from the railway station stopped at a signal, I saw a Eunuch standing at the pavement. It was 2 PM and the heat was sweltering. Even in such hot weather, she made a style statement. Dressed in a glittering blue sequins saree, with matching ear rings, necklace, bangles and rings, she had adorned her hair with fresh seasonal flowers.
She was more feminine than most females. I wondered what drove these people to dress in female attire with such commitment.
The next time I came across a group of 5 eunuchs who boarded a train, and collected money from all passengers, by clapping hands. I was with my family and jovially commented to my wife who is yet to find the perfect tailor for her blouses: "These girls are wearing excellent blouses. Why don't you ask them who their tailor is?'
Once I had gone to a hotel to look up a conference hall, for a training program. When I went to check on the hall, a Eunuch  conference was going on there. As I got into the lift to come to the lobby, I noticed an extremely pretty girl in the elevator.
Glamorous in a plain sunset yellow saree, maroon lipstick on cute lips, bindi and sindoor on the forehead, she shot me a glance with the corner of her doe eyes, smeared with black kaajal.  She smiled and just as my testosterone levels were rising, said to the lift operator, " 2nd floor please, " in a voice as manly and gravelly as Amitabh Bachan. OMG I realized , it is a He.
Once again during a train travel, this time alone, one more Eunuch boarded the  train, and was touching the men to extract money from them. The idea that I might be touched was repulsive, and I cringed near the window, far from her reach. She approached our berth, and did not even bother to look at an elderly person like me, as there was a very handsome, young man next to me. He was brave and no amount of effort by the Eunuch to seduce him off his money worked. She shot him a spiteful look, and left.
An elderly passenger opposite me commented,  " Even Eunuchs prefer young men."
I laughed out loud. I was happy I was not young.
Years later, as I was travelling to home by bus, I saw a Eunuch seated in men's seat and was happily talking to her friend over the cell for almost an hour, as  the bus slowly inched its way in the evening traffic.  Then, I understood, they too were pretty much the same, like all of us. Only they were luckier. No school, no office, no exams, no boss. Free birds. And they are now willing to trade it all to come into the main stream.So sad.  

SECOND INNINGS

When children grow up the physical and mental developments are marked by milestones. When we as parents see this we are happy. When my son was about six months old, my wife was carrying him in her arms. I stretched my arm towards him and said, “ Come come to daddy.”  He immediately inclined himself forward to come to me. I held him and carried him in my arms. This was the first time I had seen my child understand a communication and react properly.

This was the first milestone which I noticed and really enjoyed. This was besides, turning over in the bed, and swimming and crawling on the floor.   

Then later one evening we were all sitting outside our home and since it  was becoming dark we came in. my son started crying. We did not know why. We had locked the door as we came in. when we lowered him to the floor, he crawled all the way to the door and started tapping the door with his tiny hands and continued crying. He meant that he wanted to be outside for some more time. We were surprised as to how effectively the child could tell us what it wanted. We sat out side for some more time.

One day one of my friends came home and we gave him some fruit juice to drink. The moment my son saw this he started to climb all over the guest chasing the drink.

As he grew up we put him in school in the pre-kg. One day as I was going through some printed book, he came and sat next to me. He started reading the alphabets. He read, T…H…R…E…E…. Then it dawned on him that this was a word he knew. With great excitement he said, “Dad it is three.”  

The next word was also read, by him. He read slowly, V……….I……..T……….A…….L

 He pronounced it as vital, I corrected him. I told him that it was vai-tal. He said the word properly and then asked me, “what is the meaning of vital?” This was the first time he wanted to know the meaning of a word. Another  milestone.

Later when he  was in 10^th standard, he wanted to   make volleyball his career.

I counseled him, telling him that the chances of making it big in sports was rare. I encouraged him to study well, as it was a time tested method of regular income and play volley ball with happiness of a hobby.

He understood the logic, and did well both in academics and sports.

This was a milestone in logic and maturity.

He graduated in studies and got a job and for the first time, left Chennai and went to Mumbai for his career.

When we saw him off at the airport and were returning home in a cab, every teenager who came before our cab looked like our son. I told with my eyes full of tears to my wife that all the boys look like him. She nodded as she was already crying.

I have in my memory all the wonderful moments which I son gave me as he grew up from an infant to a man. Each stage of children’s life is wonderful. They give us so much pleasure, just by being with us.

When my son was born I got a small wall hanger, with the following words.

A child will make nights longer and the days shorter

A child will make clothes shabbier and pay - packets emptier.

A child will make the past forgotten and the future worth living.

How true. A child makes us live our own childhood a second time.

RESPONSIBILITY AND RESTRAIN

Last year in the month of November, one of my young relatives met with an accident. He is in the last year of his engineering course. Just before his final exams were to begin this accident took place. He was returning home from college, with his friends on bikes.

Two were riding before him, and one was following him.

No one was able to recall, what exactly happened. This boy skidded on coarse dusty gravel on the road and fell down, with the bike on his left.

As the bike fell down he managed to shift on his right side, and for maintaining balance sat on the road. As he was about to get up, a car which right behind him slammed on the brakes, but not before the bumper guard gently tapped his ribs. Three of his left side ribs were fractured.  The friend who was following him, put him in an auto, and admitted him in the nearest private hospital.

His friends call his parents, who rushed to the hospital. I joined a few hours later. The    X -rays, and scan reports showed that no other part of the body was damaged, except the ribs.

The boy was admitted into the ICU and the doctors inserted a tube in his left chest to drain out the fluids to facilitate breathing.

After 2 days he was shifted to a private room.

He was in the hospital for 14 days and then discharged. The bill was around 1.5 lakhs Rupees, which was settled by the medical insurance.

During these 14 days the schedule of all the close relatives, went for a toss. I stayed during the nights in the hospital, and my wife stayed with the boy’s mother [who was her younger sister], in their house.

His parents, uncle, aunties, grand-parents, took turns in taking care of him.

He then was in bed rest for almost 2 months before he could venture out.

While the incident once again reiterated the importance of relations, the coming togetherness, the co-operation, the affection and love, it also disclosed the price of carelessness.

The tensions and worry of the parents, their helplessness in times of stress, the daily routine that was displaced by chaos was needless, and could have been steered clear of.

One moment of sloppiness, put so many people into unwanted strain.

The boy had could not attend his exams. He has lost a valuable 6 months in finishing his studies. He could not lie down on his left side for 2 months, and had to lie flat on his back. The recovery was slow and not comfortable. Today he is back to normal, but only after 4 months of unnecessary suffering.

When a relative meets with an accident, the entire life routine, finances, and emotions all are thrown into uncertainty and disarray.  

All of which can be avoided with a small sense of responsibility and restrain.