The shrill incessant beeping cut through the confused medley of human chaos like a knife. It was happening again. "CODE BLUE", someone kept repeating. A patient was crashing. His heart rate was erratic and showed no signs of behaving itself. I looked at my colleagues withwry amusement. Everyone with a degree is a hot-shot fancy doctor, till their competence is put to the test. The ECG machine gave one last helpless cry and then there was silence
It was all over. Death 1, Medicos 0. But I'm sure we'd even out the score at some point today itself. They say that being in the medical profession desensitizes you to death. It's sad, but true. You're exposed to so much. Death ends up being reduced to numbers, learning experiences, opportunities to give yourself brownie points for tackling something morbid head on, the next time round. But there's one thing I cannot bear, and that is suffering, pain, trauma. I believe that's my role on this planet-to end all of that, which is why I'm here.
" That's the third cancer patient to die of a sudden onset heart attack? Can you even guess what's causing the tachycardia? ", someone asked me. " Why are you asking the newbie? And that too, an anaesthesiologist? ", someone else intervened. That's one more thing I don't understand about India. In UK, where I've been trained, all doctors are respected alike. Here, it's only the surgeons who are glorified.
I thought of yesterday. The old man crying in pain, sending his family to the next room, bewildered at the excruciating sensations rendering his body helpless, pleading that he didn't want to be force fully chained to such a farce of a life, I nodding.
I felt in my labcoat pocket right now. The empty 40 mg vial of morphine was still there. I looked at the retreating backs of my ignorant colleagues and went back to arranging my files. There was work to be done, and people to help. They wouldn't understand.
It was all over. Death 1, Medicos 0. But I'm sure we'd even out the score at some point today itself. They say that being in the medical profession desensitizes you to death. It's sad, but true. You're exposed to so much. Death ends up being reduced to numbers, learning experiences, opportunities to give yourself brownie points for tackling something morbid head on, the next time round. But there's one thing I cannot bear, and that is suffering, pain, trauma. I believe that's my role on this planet-to end all of that, which is why I'm here.
" That's the third cancer patient to die of a sudden onset heart attack? Can you even guess what's causing the tachycardia? ", someone asked me. " Why are you asking the newbie? And that too, an anaesthesiologist? ", someone else intervened. That's one more thing I don't understand about India. In UK, where I've been trained, all doctors are respected alike. Here, it's only the surgeons who are glorified.
I thought of yesterday. The old man crying in pain, sending his family to the next room, bewildered at the excruciating sensations rendering his body helpless, pleading that he didn't want to be force fully chained to such a farce of a life, I nodding.
I felt in my labcoat pocket right now. The empty 40 mg vial of morphine was still there. I looked at the retreating backs of my ignorant colleagues and went back to arranging my files. There was work to be done, and people to help. They wouldn't understand.
You are continuing a story right?? This is interesting. Can't wait to read more of it!
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