L 4 labour!!! gud bye!!!

Yippie…I assure u peace 4 a month…!!! I’ll b off for thirty days (almost!!!)

My labour room postings begin 2moro…so here I fly off into de black hole…no more Sundays…perhaps no x-mas…n pretty gals around de globe I might b busy assistin labour even @ de stroke of midnight dec 31^st…

keep in touch. De 24x7 friendship services will b available via 9895404187 (carrier rates apply)

n hey...don't worry...even if de bloggersvilla forgets me...ill b bak 2 remind...wid a blast...

"ngee ngee"

yuppp....seems im already on call...so world here i wish u peaceful month without ma musings...!!!

HERO WILL B BACK!!!

The CHOVVA DOSHAM (A Star War)

‘TAARE’ ZAMEEN PAR…!!!

If it weren’t my own television set I would have smashed the screen with the remote control I held. Preity Zinta will no longer show off her dimples for BSNL. Instead the long legs of Deepika Padukone are going to lure customers from now on.
Am I happy?

A press on the remote control drives me to a round table conversation, the topic…”Shouldn’t the drunken minister have slapped his wife on her left cheek rather than the right?” Some of the nation’s best thinkers (and that means those thinkers who have nothing else to do) spit out their ‘precious’ opinions.

ME: MAMMMMAA I hope you are not booking tickets to Switzerland to get chocolate.

MAMMA: Kuttu, be patient!!! Chocolate milk is on the way. Ooo…c’mon sonny, you are 21 now…do you know that?
ME: Yeah! And what is that supposed to mean? A quarter of my pals are now employed and messaging me their salaries. And who the hell forced me to join a medical college?

MAMMA : Aha! Okay it’s me. But see the advantage.

ME: Advantage?!

MAMMA: Yeah. You have a reason for not touching the daily newspapers.

ME: Yupp.

MAMMA: Because no economic depression or Tsunami is going to deprive you of your bed coffee.

I had nothing to say. I switched off the television.

ME: Do you know mamma how much it hurts to see them suffering?

MAMMA: Them?

DAD: “Me? Great…this is the plight of every married man sunnie…” Dad popped his head out of ‘Business Today’.

ME:Dad…I said THEM, not HIM…grrrr…
DAD: Ha ha…Okay continue….

ME: I have to wait near the colossal Silver Jubilee gate of our college every morning to board the bus to the Regional Institute of Ophthalmology. I stand there…watching their miserable lives.
MAMMA: C’mon can you cut the suspense off from this?

ME: They earn their bread selling toothbrushes, towels and stuff…Some are paupers selling notes worth lakhs or crores.

You know mamma, some moments it’s a special warmth you get watching them enjoying giggling at each other, fighting with customers (The Bargain Rajas). My sole competitor for the shade of the gate is a self proclaimed healer who assures the mass around him that what he holds is a panacea that can cure all illnesses.

Bravo…I would say…a panacea being hawked right in front of the State’s official gung ho of registered healers.

Of the many vendors is a mother…emaciated out of poor business knack…perhaps her dingy looks held back customers. Her kid, half naked, is playing with a stray puppy…no…not Dobermann or German Shepherd…well it’s up to the Municipal Corporation to decide it’s breed. She has spicy vadas and samosas. Poor lady…!!!


The next moment, sometimes, I would see fear in their eyes. They would pack their ‘shops’, wrap up the articles and run away. After a few minutes, once the jeep of the ‘Flying Squad’ had cleared, everything went back to normal. My bus would come by then.

DAD: C’mon don’t tell me it’s this that bothers you.

ME: What the…? Dad…it is chaos everywhere…the world is really a bad place to live these days.

DAD :Not ‘these days’ son…the day Adam or Eve or whoever walked in, earth was contaminated!!! But what is philosophy doing here at this time of the day…

ME: A pal of mine called, a while back.


MAMMA: And that worried you? What happened sonnie? DAD :Hi…hi…she said no to your proposal?
DAAAAAAAAAAAD.
I was ready to jump over him. But hey…there must be a spy somewhere in my class…did dad really get the news?

MAMMA: RAAAAJ…c’mon…who is the grown up here…? (Mamma interferes)

Sonnie…which gal was it anyway?
ME:Mamma…et tu brutus….Gosh…

MAMMA: Hi Hi.

ME:K. It was Rekha. My school mate.
DAD: BINGO…Wow…your ex??? …she wanted to invite you to her wedding…right son? Howz ma guess?

ME: C’mon this ain’ fair.

MAMMA: Raaj…cut the crap please… (Thanks mammaa….)

ME: Well mom…dad’s right…it’s her wedding…but she says she ain’t prepared. She wants to take her job at Microsoft and earn some bucks for her own before getting ‘wed-locked’.

MAMMA: Aha…but what’s the rush? She’s of your age na?

DAD : Darling…bad memory…the gal is exactly a year older…remember kuttu’s face on that 14th of February? She had rejected, telling “Hey…you are still a toddler”!!!

(If it weren’t my dad I would have poured a bucket of water over him for reminding me about that black Valentine ’s Day.)

ME:Well mamma…’astrology’ screwed her…they found a “CHOVVA dosham “…and that means a groom should also have the same ‘dosham’. And the parents are worried since they can’t risk throwing away the current proposal. They say it’s tough to get everything rightly placed at a time -“Nair” (a Hindu community), “Handsome”, “Chovva dosham”, “Profession”, “Family background”.
MAMMA: What is the problem with the current proposal then?

ME: The guy is 10 years older than her. Mamma…a 31 year old engineer cum bachelor must have some kinda defect

MAMMA: Well…kuttu..31 years…hmmm…you are right…the fact is… A 24 year old Engg.graduate will have a bank balance of his own…but a 24 year old “just MBBS” doctor will just have passed out of his college. I would demand an age gap of at least five between a couple. Am I right Raj?
DAD: Yes Senior

MAMMA: Whaaaaaaaaat?


DAD: Hey I was kidding honey. Well,Kuttu. You know what. Even the most liberal dad will spare time for a second thought when his son falls for a gal of a different community or a religion…


Even the most stringent atheist will wear a mask or use the time of a power cut to visit an astrologer to cross check his child’s ‘fate’ before marrying him off.


But don’t you worry son. Your dad is an odd-man. What is the big deal with all the ‘star troubles’? Even god is a concept manipulated for our own greed.

I don’t even worry about the dowry. Hi hi…a ‘doctor’ son will automatically win a few kilos of gold and at least a Chevrolet…well more ‘degrees’ means…Mercedes or BMW…HI HI…!!!


ME: That’s the spirit dad…that’s the spirit. You know mamma…did you notice our new neighbours? They have a gal…name’s Rhazia…and she’s just entering her college.

It rained last week. I had an umbrella and she didn’t.


Dad, she wants me to hurry…a muslim…she says her dad is already out, searching for a groom.

(I didn’t wait to enjoy the bewildered look in my ‘liberal cum hardcore communist-by-the-heart’ dad’s face. I rushed back having returned the empty glass to mamma.)

a luV 'in' Darkness...

(darkness is sweet...i luv it...)

It’s dark…pitch- black…not even a fire fly is around to show what comes in front of you…I don’t know what filled the path that I had travelled…it was wet… my feet must have got painted with mud…who cares…who’ll notice it…the darkness hides me from my own eyes…

Never before have I loved darkness so much…

I’ve lost faith in light…

and who said darkness is crooked…

indeed, you never know what is hidden in the blackness that blankets you…

is there a use if you really know…?

You do what you like and you have a reason…”I didn’t see”…you move around carelessly….least bothered about the shivering old man on the bench, because you have a reason again “I didn’t see”. All that mattered to me now was to reach there…and nothing else…

All I knew…was that…in another nook of the world someone was waiting…to hear me speak…I don’t know if she really knew why I had to stop abruptly…will she burn me when I resume, for keeping her waiting?

I had to be fast…really fast… time is running out…

perhaps

the only reason why this darkness comforts me

is because I know exactly when light will be back to fill my path…

I have to reach there before light does…

Whom should I curse?

Me? For not keeping a check on the mobile balance?

Or her for not reminding me…?

Whatever…the account balance is negative…and I can’t even make a ‘missed call’…and there is no one around to lend a cell…Yeah I’ve got to do this myself…find the nearest shop where I can get a top-up for my phone…

The scarcity of power in Kerala has very well succeeded in making ‘darkness’ romantic…!!!

Power cut spreads silence…and silence is dangerous…even murmurs are audible without stethoscopes…

Within the next few minutes I will find the shop…and in the brim light of a candle I will ask the shop keeper for an ‘easy charge’

…as soon as my account gets recharged…I will ring her…

and she would say “back in charge ha”…

and I would say “I am back dear…and where did we stop?”

Another couple of minutes will pass…

and power will be back…after having kept a whole street in the dark for thirty minutes…

(n here i am...after a long time...has been really busy these days...

n btw ...read it a couple of times b4 commenting...and pls don't skim through...derz more hidden

n this is open 4 discussion :) de beauty of darkness...n one more thing..my responses 2 my comments may take time...it'z me na!!! smilllllllle)

thanks 2 amooma

sMileY

“It’s easy to smile…

Or at least you pretend…

But when it comes to making someone else smile…

You fret…”

FaLLaCY

"No more do I trust the mirror…
It showed me just what I wished to see…"

Triage: Prioritising Lives

(0% fiction,100%realty)

“Life was created…or perhaps it sprouted up from nowhere all of a sudden. I was born. I needed air to live. I breathe in and out at least 16 times in a minute. I never care if what I expire can choke my neighbour. I have power. I can create life but not at the same pace at which I take it. “

The stethoscope that adorns my neck was once an ornament that made me ‘look’ a doctor. It set me apart from a nursing student who too wore a white coat. With the passage of time, it let me hear the non-stop machine that panted ‘lubb dupp’ and now I was using it to detect life.

“The heart still beats”, shouted Neha. We were rushing to the SICU (Surgical I.C.U). I was holding the Ambu bag. I felt thrilled. I was pumping life into him…oxygen.

I knew he was breathing. I didn’t care if it were the last puffs that he got to gasp. A multitude of thoughts flashed through my mind. I didn’t exactly know why the M.O (Medical Officer) chose us to accompany the patient; did he overestimate the fourth year students who were posted at the emergency room?
(The patient was brought 15 minutes back, drenched in blood; an old man in his sixties; a case of road traffic accident. He had sustained severe head injury)

I could see his abdomen rise and fall…rise and fall…yes he was alive. I kept on pumping, a puff every 5 seconds.

I wished the elevator would ascent faster.

Neha once again checked if the tiny organ was still panting. Yes, it was.

Lubb dupp…lubb dupp

The attendant who pulled the trolley seemed to carry a ‘mask like face’…the kind of face that one gives when suffering Parkinsonism. He was sweating just like us.

The poor old man who lay in the trolley knew nothing; he was helpless and not even his pupils could move in response to light, the energy that keeps life alive.

People who flooded the corridor gave way for the sprinting trolley.

Someone else was panting too…running at the same pace as we were. It could been his son or brother or a relative. I was damn sure the guy was not a stranger filled with compassion.

Finally we reached the SICU (Surgical Intensive Care Unit). Our job was over, the patient was ‘delivered’. Now all that I cared was to get the Ambu-bag back (the surgery casualty was short of supply and SICU had its own Ambu-bags).

“Hey do a CPCR!” yelled a house surgeon.

Why me? I have never done this before. I checked if Neha was puzzled just like me…no…she was about to jump over the patient to break his ribs and give the lifesaving resuscitation.

Well in that case why should I miss my chance?

“Sir…errr…I need a demonstration…or in plain terms…I am short of confidence”, I spoke, and waited for the house surgeon to shout.

But he was cool and calm and taught me how to do it.

‘1-2-3-4-NOW…’I said and Neha pumped the bag.

After a couple of tries, I turned to Neha, “Want to try?”

It was Neha’s ‘chance’ now and I took the Ambu-bag from her.

‘Okay, that will do’. The house surgeon checked for a carotid pulse. With his fingers still on the patient’s neck, he turned to the fellow resident and asked if the patient ‘really’ required to be put into a ventilator.

I didn’t understand why these guys were damn so cool. What the hell where they waiting for? This was why ‘we’ soaked our coats…drenched ourselves in sweat?

It took me a couple of seconds to get a grip on what was going on. The poor old man was almost dead…perhaps the brain was already off when we rushed him out of the emergency room.
The Medical Officer had done all that he could do within the four walls of the room. So he sent us with this patient. He was correct. By this time at least five new emergency cases would’ve got attended by the senior residents, who were back at the casualty, seeing to patients who had better chance to ‘survive’.

The stethoscope was not fabricating sounds. The beats were kept alive by the injected Adrenaline. They receded once the action of the drug exhausted. The abdomen did not move once I stopped pumping oxygen. A ventilator…the ultimate and the last hope to rejuvenate life…must be reserved for a ‘better’ case…someone who had a 0.1% better chance to survive and not a ‘dead’ patient.

We had ‘lost’ him on the way to the SICU.

Neha and I walked out of the SICU. The guy who was running with us was waiting there…I didn’t know what to say.

‘Sir, please…I can stand anything…please say…is there a hope?’

“Well…we are trying all that we can do…” before I could complete, Neha interrupted, “The chances are too low”.

I felt a bit frustrated…felt offended.

Who cares…? It was 8.00pm and our shift was over.

I returned home…having learnt something new.

‘TRIAGE’… Prioritising ‘Lives’.

Someone was dead and tomorrow his body will go through the post-mortem examination…torn open, and then sutured back…samples will be sent to various laboratories…final reports will be written.
Someone will shed tears; some others might smile; weeks or perhaps months may pass and all will be back normal.

(Triage means the assessment of the seriousness of wounds or illnesses to decide the order in which a large number of patients should be treated. CPCR stands for Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation. A ventilator is an equipment that maintain a flow of air into and out of the lungs of a patient who is unable to breathe normally)

(Thanks 2 diva nawale, de title sprouted up during a chat session, and Amooma...i broke her sleep just 2 read out de entire post !!! and Azgar)

(entrant for ‘Get your story published in The Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul – Indian Doctors at BlogAdda‘)