Doctor Right

It was 15th July  2013. When I read the news of Dr.  Rangabhashyam’s  death my eyes swelled up in gratitude and great love and I remembered the surgery done on me by him four decades ago at his Ramana clinic.  For that great man  I might be just one among  his patients but the esteemed  place  he occupies in my heart is beyond words.

The incident is often narrated by me to friends who have medical conditions as a way of consolation and motivation.

The story goes like this: Except for my dear little girl who was all excited with an unexpected holiday in the midst of the year and  a bonus of a travel to Madras from Calcutta  to  grandpa’s place informing the same to all and sundry neighbours in her babyish Bengali and the infant baby boy with cherubic smile the whole house hold was in a shock.

 I had a lump at the left side of my breastt closer to the shoulder and it seemed to be getting big and pained some time. As an young engineer, new to Calcutta, my husband didn’t know to which doctor this condition should be referred to. The tested and proven place was Madras and that is  true even today what with Bengalis crowding Chennai for any major treatment. So with an infant in hand and his little elder sister, we travelled  in Howrah mail. My brother who was working as a doctor at Madras got an appointment with a well-known surgeon, a friend . He examined me in his consulting room and came back to his place and declared to my brother; "your sister has a cancerous growth and a suggested a surgery should be done at once and then by radiation  and then a test.....and then chemo....." he was going on and on.

 My brother, being a doctor, asked for more details  to make sure that the man was going in the right direction.

We couldn't believe our ears......... Cancer at 29...? There was no family history......And 1971 cancer was indeed a hideous word.....

We were so jittery that we didn't know how we reached home and shared the information with the family. Our family doctor who happened to be at Madras at that time came home and together we sat to decide the course of action. "He might be famous surgeon but he can also be wrong at times. How can he decide that the lump was cancerous without a biopsy? Let us go for a second opinion."My brother said.   Our family doctor proposed that we could go to another  well-known surgeon in the city  even though he didn’t know him personally. It seemed that he took cases by appointment. Arrangements were made and we got the appointment to see this surgeon a few a days later. The receptionist informed us “Please make sure that you are on time, the doctor is very  particular about timings and missing it makes you to get wait-listed and next appointment may not happen soon.”

Our  appointment was at 8 p.m. and we were promptly there at 7 p.m. There were not many people and we thought our call would not be far off.  We were used to the  of the crowded clinic of Dr. Banerjee at S.P. Mukherjee Road and got accustomed to how quickly he disposed of his patients. But that was not to be in this place.  The person who went inside the consulting chamber at 7.00 p.m. came out around 7.30 p.m. and similar was the case with the next patient too! This process astonished us.

Then it was our turn to go inside. I walked in as a sacrificial lamb. With his big smile in his big eyes he made me lie down on the examination table and the lump was analysed from various angles. Coming back to his seat he enquired the about the time the lump started forming . After some more questions he told us that it would be a minor surgery and if we wished we could have it the next day. The word ‘minor’ had a great connotation for us and then and there we decided to go through the surgery the next day.

The surgery was successful and when he visited me the next day he enquired about my health and informed me that my lump had been sent for biopsy and told me not to worry about it.

He came in the next day with a paper in his hand and asked me if I had fallen down somewhere or had violently hit myself or someone had hit me. Then I told him about  my train travel as I was carrying my three month old baby from my mother’s place in Kumbakonam to Calcutta . In the Howrah mail I had taken the middle berth with the baby beside me. At the middle of the night I woke up and turned myself suddenly to the other side imagining that I have pressed the baby but the baby was sleeping perfectly well. In the process of turning I had hit myself on the steel chain holding the berth and my left side was paining. And then there was the lump. Back at Calcutta I applied ointments, tried hot water bag but the lump seemed to have bulged and there was intermittent pain.

He asked me why I hid this fact from him. Again I did another explanation. I told the episode of  the doctor we first met (I didn’t  mention his name, neither did he ask for it) when I tried to tell him about the hit in the train  he laughed sarcastically and said the lump had nothing to do with the hit and that it was cancerous.

“Then it is congratulations to you!” the doctor laughed ,“the lump was a just a blood clot and now that it had gone out for good you can go back home a happy person. Go back to your Calcutta and enjoy the rasgolla (the celebrated Bengali sweet) !

He patted my hand with a smile and walked out. Those words and the pat was not just treasured by me but the whole household was filled with the good tidings  and the ambience was filled with uncontaminated joy!!

From then on if any one comes out with health problem at MTL we always referred them to that great man! A winner of the prestigious Padma Bhushan award and yet highly amicable to his patients  this man is a gem creating the needed confidence and who can easily earn a doctorate psychology too!!

Contagious compassion

"Good morning ma’am........ may I come in for a few minutes please. I thought I have to share it with you.." This was an event when I was working as General Manager – HR in a company.

One of our technical staff was standing at the entrance of my cabin.

"Please do come in......." The open office system didn't require any knocking.

This is her narration.

"My mother had been complaining of pain in both her knees and I had been postponing the visit to the doctor as time was at a premium with two managing small children and their home works and projects..... Come what may I decided to take my mother to the hospital.

"It was a famous hospital and we were waiting outside the orthopaedic specialist's cabin. When mother's name was called we went inside but I was shell shocked and confused when I saw a paraplegic sitting in a wheel chair in doctor's place. As both of us hesitated  the nurse invited us and seated my mother near the doctor's seat."

 My goodness he cannot even open his mouth..................."  I was miserable.

When both of us explained about her pain he listened with great concentration and then signalled the nurse to direct his hand to the knees. The tests varied  with the man's hand touching and pressing various parts of her knees and the surrounding areas and all the time he was watching my mother's face for any pain symptoms.  The whole affair  reminded me of my village puppet show! 

When everything was over the nurse brought out a medicine list and as the doctor nodded his head as she ran down the medicine list and ticked the medicines and wrote down the same in the prescription pad along with the dosage indicated by the doctor. The doctor did a final verification of the prescription and handing over the prescription sheet to us the nurse requested us to take the medicine regularly and gave the date for the next appointment. That was just the last straw on this camel back ..... no x ray, no scan and with some fiddling the medicine was prescribed. My pressure was up! As I was in two minds regarding the purchase of the medicine when I heard a voice from behind with a "Hello how are you? And how are you amma (mother)?"

She was an acquaintance of our family working there as a doctor.

 "She was a God sent manna....." I thought and  poured my heart out regarding the doctor and his diagnosis or the lack of it.

"Can we sit somewhere" she said pointing to some seats "amma cannot stand for a long time."

"It is  a long story my friend........." she said   The doctor who examined amma is  a brilliant doctor who specialised in accident orthopaedic  medicine at Liverpool and while he was working there he got into a car accident. He was in coma for two years and after lot of surgery combined with physiotherapy he regained his hearing while he lost the movement of his legs and hands. After he recovered he resolved to himself that whatever he had studied should not go to waste and he wanted to forget about his disabilities too. He wanted to serve the people.

"But that doesn't justify his present position"

"Please listen ...." she said Patients come in large number to take his consultation and he can diagnose as well as any other expert doctor without burdening the patients with unnecessary expenses. Amma should be lucky to get an appointment from him.

I was loosening up. His simplicity was misconstrued by me as inefficiency.

"And do you know that he does all these work on an honorary basis and not only that he had created a special ward for people who had lost the use of their limbs below the waist due to  accidents. It is free of cost and many a poor people have benefited and are leading a life where they are able to manage their livelihoods by themselves." my friend was eulogising  

"I was ashamed of my wrong judgement madam.." she told me

"Most of us tend to form opinions before we give a deep reflection of the situation" I tried to soothe her misery.

"While I learnt a lesson" she continued "there is a miracle happening in my house...... There is paradigm shift in my mother's attitude. She says when a hapless man could do so much for the society  why should I burden myself with minor things as a knee pain. Now she runs around the garden watering the plants and fills the neighbourhood with  her bonhomie.

"Life is a continuous process of learning and counting the blessings my dear girl" I said and we shook our hands nodding in agreement.

The Gold rush

It was not very often that people go abroad in the 1980s. It was my first trip abroad. I still remember the dates 4th to 8th October 1980. I have flown a few times between  Calcutta and Madras ."Lucky lady..... she is  going to Singapore... the paradise on earth..!!! She would definitely bring in lot of gold and plenty of saris to fill her house.." This was the general idea about a traveller to Singapore. But they didn't know that I might be a weird exception to that rule!!

 We were going to Singapore looking for the prospect of a collaboration. The custom procedures for international travel was  new to me.  At the customs I was asked to account for my jewels, a chain two bangles and a pair of ear stud and asked to sign the document. I was worried ... what are they up to ? As I came out and confided to my better half. He told me not to worry and it was just to make sure that we did not bring  in additional gold from Singapore,  where gold was supposed to be cheap, by exchanging our small chains and bangles  into  heavier ones and thus create a loss of revenue to the government.

 "Let us not worry about it. Our budget is worse than the Indian one and any illegal means are not at all in our books" We laughed!

When we came back after the trip my gold was verified and I was questioned about  any extra gold  to which I answered in negative.

"But you should have brought lot of saris madam.. "The officer asked. Again it was a negative answer

I can't believe you... not even a single sari .....?! Going to Singapore and coming back without even a single one...?! Impossible.....

Possessing a Singapore sari was  deemed to be of high standard in the good old days and the body hugging quality of the Japanese georgette silk was an envy of the have nots and a gift of a Singapore sari was perceived as a great honour and always received with  great reverence!

 I was not against buying those revered saris...... but where do you get a sari sitting in the meetings (just an observer and nothing more!) and rest of the time being driven around to see the Singapore sights  and a big dinner with our prospective collaborator at the revolving restaurant at Mandarin Hotel..? Revolving restaurants were a rarity then and rotating around we were bewildered  to see borders of Indonesia and Malaysia

When I related this back home a Singapore relative who was  listening laughed.

"Listen to my part of the story. Whenever I come from Singapore I want to bring the maximum items including gold as my tribe here is really big. For instance I used buy beautiful georgette materials that can make for three saris and tie it as a single sari when I board the plane. I can bring in lot of gold but there was a limit. I used to wear a long sweater and hide some bangles as arm bands above my elbow. The bangles and other jewels I wore were legal while the 'armbands' weren't! The modern metal detecting machines were absent then. A good rapport with the customs would get me through most of the times. My obesity due to the big sari and the haggard gait and my age and my endearing approach would smoothen  the ambience and gift of few saris will push me right royally to the exit gate" She declared triumphantly!

I gaped about the nexus between the saris and gold and not very happy about the state of affairs.

While a Singapore citizen can sail through the customs with arm bands of gold we Indians like third grade citizens were asked to affix our signature for the gold we are wearing and account for the same when we returned.

Except for the revolving restaurant story I didn't have much to offer to my friends and relatives!

I thought that I could  at last  say by to  golden story. But my golden  destiny  thought otherwise!

The two decades in between the millennium and the eighties  brought in lot of changes.  Better saris were available in India and the customs' trite with   checking your gold  with signature affixed was a thing of past and it never bothered much with the small gold items brought into India since prices compared well between the countries and with clever machines to identify any excess smuggled gold  hidden  cleverly in the bags and baggage,  all was well with the nation!

 Then it happened! We came into a collaboration.  Singapore became the Asia hub for the operations. We were properly settled there and it was my first trip back to India. I had duly bought some gifts for the MTL family  at Chennai.

As we were about to collect our baggage  at the Anna International Airport Chennai we were stopped with one our suit cases marked with white chalk with the big multiplication mark! My man was called aside. I was worried. I didn't know what expired between him and the customs. He came back to me, a worried man!

"Did you buy some gold..?."

"No.........." A vehement protest from me!

"But there seems to be lot of gold in our suit case....."

"May be someone had pushed in....."

"But the lock is intact ........."

Then I realised that I had bought 150 odd key chains with the Singapore lion gold gilded emblems.

"I think I  bought  a good amount of key chains in gold colour."

At the end the case was solved.  The bag was never opened. Our words held good!

 If anyone of you guys in the MTL family still possess one of those golden key chain or remember getting one of those  this story is dedicated to you and only  you!