EVERY TIME A DOCTOR IS ASSAULTED

 

“People pay the doctor for his trouble;

for his kindness, they still remain in his debt.”

Seneca

 

Two things I know about every doctor – even if he/she is world’s most renowned and acclaimed doctor. One: doctor is not God; just a human being, like the rest of us. Two: doctor, too, gets anxious and worried and prays to God in times of his/her distress, like the rest of us.

Thus, when we trust a doctor to help us out of a disease, by medicines, surgery or any kind of treatment, we have to trust God, too. Just like anything else in life can go wrong, a doctor’s treatment or surgery, too, can.

As a teacher, I may think, that I have taught my students with all my heart and skills. But, sometimes, my students can fail, or get low marks.

The best of the best lawyers cannot guarantee to their clients a favourable verdict… No matter how fat a sum he has received  as legal fees. The best lawyer can only do his best… That’s all!

And, so is the case when it comes to any other professional in our lives – be it the pilot of a plane or the driver of an autorickshaw, be it the chef of a 5-Star Hotel or the aya of a baby… We all trust. For, we are human… Life hinges on trust…

And, Life doesn’t come with any guarantees, Sir.

What am I trying to convey through all this?

My doctor, a dear friend for many years, is known for his super specialty. This young-and-experienced surgeon is considered to be  very decisive and safe. His wife and son, too, are in medical profession. In fact, the son, who, too, has just completed his super specialty, is on a compulsory posting in Kashmir. Today, my doctor, who had been to Kashmir with his wife, to be with their son for a few days, had sent me this message:

 

“Every time a doctor is assaulted,

another 100 doctors stop taking the risks

they would usually take

to save someone.

Unfortunately, your loved one

will bear the price of it,

and you wouldn’t even know.”

 

Obviously, the trigger point was the latest assault of a doctor in Assam. Anybody, who has watched it in the horrific video, is able to feel what the doctor community has been feeling, right now!

I remembered my own days in the hospital. This very doctor friend  had used his experienced hands to remove my cancer-infected kidney. We were anxious, but had complete trust in our doctor friend. The consent forms, which we had signed, were only that – a formality. The hospital and the doctor could not be held responsible if, God forbid, anything went wrong. Trust is beyond the consent forms, to me and my family… Even if something went wrong, we would never, ever blame the hospital or the doctor. Period.

By God’s grace, I was recovering very well and about to be discharged within ten days. Then, one night, something happened inside my operated body and I was gasping for breath… I was crying, I was dying… It was a long, long night. Ironically, as I was recovering well, that was first night I had asked my wife and son to take a much-needed break and go home… And, here in the hospital, the resident doctors and nurses who were on duty that night, were doing their very best to keep me hang on till something could be done the next day!

The next early-morning, my wife and son, my brothers and cousins and, above all, my surgeon friend arrived… A series of tests and scans later, it was clear that a blood clot in my leg had caused my lungs to almost collapse… None of us had ever known what a ‘Pulmonary Embolism’ meant… The Pulmonologist, Oncologist,, Nephrologist and my surgeon had to quickly decide on the next course of action… The toughest call was left to be taken by my surgeon friend… He decided to cut me open again… A full open-surgery this time – right from the base of my chest to right below my navel!

Post this second surgery, I was placed on a ventilator and remained in the ICU, unable to even whisper. But, then, breath by breath, I began to recover, started moving on the bed little by little, taking the baby steps, all over again, with a dozen tubes stuck to my body… And, a month or so later, I came home… and took a long time to regain my lost strength…

Coming October, I will be completing the third anniversary of this health emergency in my life. Today, mercifully, I am alive and I am in good spirit… I am able to do whatever I wanted to.

When my surgeon friend sent this painful message in the morning, on his way back from Kashmir, I asked these questions in my mind:

Was my doctor anxious when he had to cut me open for the second time, within a span of just ten days, to save me?

Did he express his anxiety and fear to his close ones at home?

Did he pray to God for help?

What if, God forbid, he couldn’t save me?

Would I and my family have placed the blame on him and the hospital?  

I still remember the faces and the touch of those gentle hands  - of everyone involved in my rescue - during that long night and the days that followed… the doctors, nurses, ward boys, everyone. I remember the brave front my surgeon friend presented and the smile and the warmth with which he kept pepping me each time he came near my bed…

When I went to his clinic for my post-surgery follow-up, I had asked him, if he had watched the Hollywood film, ‘Sully’. He hadn’t; but, he was curious to know why I was asking him that question…

“Doctor, you were my Captain Sully on that day when all my engines failed, and you had to do the emergency landing in the cold waters of Hudson River… knowing very well, that the worst could happen!"

Today, I had replied, after reading that painful message:

“Sir, all that I am doing for you and all the doctors out there, is, go down on my knees and say ‘Thank you’… ‘God, guard them’!”

May be, I can say one more prayer, which Christ himself did in the most painful moment of His life:

“Father, forgive them; for, they do not know what they are doing.”

The last one is harder than the Hudson landing, though...

 

GERALD D’CUNHA

 

Pic’s: Pexels: 1.  Karolina Grabowska 2. Jonathan Borba

 

Video: Akllheals