For those of you who do not know me personally, a brief introduction:
I have completed my MD in General Medicine from KEM Hospital in September 2020.
I joined Tata Memorial Centre, Mumbai as a Senior Resident in Medical Oncology in December 2020.
This is a collection of my thoughts at the end of a month of Oncology residency. This is a branch that not many are ready to step into. A branch everyone, patients and doctors alike, associates with suffering. But where there is suffering, there is hope. And in the midst of darkness, we appreciate the light even more.
At the end of the day, there is a lot more to learn from the patients than the diagnosis and management of their disease! Now, on to the story.
In residency, adequate sleep always seemed like the
horizon: beautiful and desirable, but never quite within reach. So he walked
on, in a semi-trance of his own. He reached the ward before he even realized
where he was. He took a moment to compose himself. He was The Healer. It was
his duty to look happy and warm, so that the patients felt the same.
As he stepped in, the nurses announced: “Doctor, there’s a new admission in room 3” . His heart skipped a beat. A new admission meant new investigations and a tonne of new work. He blinked a couple of times. Then a voice inside spoke softly: that also means there’s a new life for you to touch. Keep going.
So he restored his smile to its previous quality and knocked gently on the door.
“Come in” said a frail voice. He opened the door. Stepped inside.. She lay there in bed. Emaciated and frail, with pillows propping her up. Her eyes closed, blissful. As she heard him approach, she looked at him, and she smiled. And in that moment, everything changed. Like the Alchemy of legend was said to turn metals into gold with its very touch, so her smile transformed her face, her very appearance, from one of misery to one of pure energy. There was a light in her eyes, something that no disease could put out.
And as he spoke to her, his world shifted like a kaleidoscope. Here was a person who had been through a lifetime of suffering, or so it seemed to him, but she still found a reason to stay happy. She could still smile like that. She was at peace with her present, and the future, the prognosis which seemed so bleak to him, well, she was at peace with that too. He carried the strange magic of that encounter with him throughout the day as a Talisman. If she could smile, he really should be able to work with a smile.
Just a year’s survival benefit was after all a year spent in the company of loved ones.
He ended up spending more and more time in each room. For each person there was more than a bed number. They and their families all had stories to tell. And The Healer, far away from his own family, found peace and solace with them, recovering little pieces of himself that he had lost along the way. He joined Room 8 in their prayers, he laughed with Room 2 when they spilled their juice, he watched silently from the corner as the family in room 4 hugged each other, slowly understanding the gravity of the diagnosis. He saw the power of a simple touch when Doctors started their rounds by keeping a hand on the patient’s pulse, forming a bond that cannot really be quantified by science.
And so it was for all the Healers. They began to appreciate the smallest joys in their own lives, began to understand how to make their patients smile. And that was the most fulfilling thing of all, for there is no feeling like watch a critically ill person forget their pain, just for a moment and smile. Slowly, part by part, their weariness melted away. And they Healed. It was not work anymore. It was truly their calling. The disease and its treatment would always be a formidable task. The least they could do was face it with a smile, together, as best as they could.
That evening, they gathered at the balcony. Doctors and patients together, to watch the sunset.
The sky was awash with a thousand colours. The Healer looked around, until his eyes found her. There she was. The Lady of room 3. Looking the picture of calm in her wheelchair. A pint of intravenous fluid solemnly dripping from the stand, her husband by her side, holding her hand. She saw him, and she smiled that smile. And as the colours changed from the vibrant oranges to the cool blues of evening, it became clear to him. She was the Healer. She had brought him back to life, helped him understand his purpose, to find himself again.
And so it was for all of them.
( This story is a work of fiction, based on my thoughts, feelings and ideas. )
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|| Shree Ram ||
|| Ambadnya ||
|| Naathsanvidh ||
|| I Love you my Dad ||
Dr. Arnav H. Tongaonkar
22/1/21
