Life gives a lovely narration when we are looking at it in perspective. All the good things in a lifetime require a keen observation, evaluation and timely appreciation. If we are unable to coincide these three, happiness just passes us by and we are left with memories of shattered dreams and lost hopes. Speaking of perspectives in an ideal world one is apt to consider them scrupulously perfect; but sadly in the real scenario, our senses fail to discover the most essential details. A single grain of sand, for instance, speaks such volumes to a sage that all our seashores on Earth put together, cannot measure up to its scale. Alas! All men are not sages! Perhaps our senses fail to grasp the elaborate workmanship from God that adds flavor and spice to our days. A venture into the unknown seems like a fantastic idea to any frivolous mind but the true fascination of discovery lies in finding something extraordinary in the mundane events. In the course of history, millions of dreamers gaze at the night sky but only one comes up with an astronomical telescope. Perhaps the fault lies in the evaluation of what is perceived. So far, this is an ideal prologue to my experiences ranging from final year until my introduction to the kaleidoscopic world of surgery.

I remember my days in the final year of medical college. I was in a group of five friends. We were at the top of the world…on the threshold of eternal success. We were overenthusiastic for the life that awaited us just around the corner. Our postings in the various specialties added fuel to fire. We wanted to serve the ailing humanity in some meticulously innovative method that no one had ever thought of before. There was an unbelievable zeal and fervor within us. We all understood the pros and cons of success while studying for our final professional examination. Day in, day out, we made notes, practiced clinical methods, memorized volumes and while doing all this we were scared to death of the consequences. We knew that hard work always pays off well, but none of us was sure if we were working hard enough. We were sleep deprived, exhausted and very, very scared. I believe, fear was the one, singular driving force behind all our efforts. The courses were very lengthy and time was running out. We spent hours making study schedules and calculating the time left till the exams. Sadly, we were always lagging behind and ended up making new schedules. Finally, the days of trial ended…Final Prof. came and went in the blink of an eye. The ordeal was over! Here we were, finally medical graduates from F.J.M.C!

There was yet another trial to be endured. We were left stranded in a new world where our childhood and student life was bidding us a final farewell. We looked back upon five years of absolute bliss, glory and honor with wet eyes. A part of us rejoiced as an era of ultimate misery with its seasons of frustration and anger was finally gone. But the heart was in silent mourning as the golden days of youth winked back at us from momentary flashbacks of memory. It was a strange experience having so many mixed feelings and yet, little comprehension of what we truly felt! We were filled with a cascade of emotions, some well defined and others vague to perception. Somewhere in the deep crevices of the soul, a sense of loss lingered on. The euphoric fray that always carried us to the peaks of achievement was lost! All of a sudden the crowd had scattered and vanished, leaving a very lonely self in a colossal world. Friends drifted away, suddenly and painfully, each facing his private tribulation. The harmony we always took for granted was no more. In all the jubilation of passing Final Prof, I was left to wonder if it was just a trance I woke up from. Like a vision, the liberty of college life faded away. It seemed as if after an ecstatic performance, the curtains were drawn with a deafening applause and a very heavy heart. I told my silly heart that existence is a matter of perceptions. The whole point of happiness lies in a simple psychological trick…look beyond the obvious! There has to be something more attractive to look forward to than the magnificent days gone by. Finally I found the glitter to keep my mind off the glorious past in internship. Somehow, I believed that from here I would actually begin building a legendary life. This was my chance to prove my worth in the fray. I had grown wings to fly and the winds were high. Little did I know that the first flight is inevitably, always disastrous.

My merit was excellent and I got the house job of my choice wherever I applied. The heart is a poor companion of the mind, and mine began its flights of fancy as soon as the selections were over. For reasons unknown, {to be more elaborate, these are best left unsaid} I selected Surgical Unit I (SUI) for my prima fascie in the world of Surgery. By some pre-calculated formula of fate, my first day in SUI was as sordid as any day during final professional examination. I arrived at the hospital like an eager child on his first day to school. I expected life to be great. The heartfelt desire to be applauded for my achievements was badly shattered. I was the junior most member of a very competent team. I felt humiliated at the inconspicuousness of my presence. It is very hard to step out of the spotlight into pitch darkness. Life had dealt a very brutal blow to my self-esteem. I had to start building an identity from scratch. I slumped into the most convenient and easily accessible recoil of self-remorse. The first few days of house job were very demanding. The very idea of having to obey every order given to you, takes its time to sink in. Its not a matter of insubordination but moreover one of training the ego to cope with a boss employee relationship. Unfortunately, this phenomenal new world that I had stepped into had already lost its glamour and charisma. The rest was a mere after thought!

I cried several dozen times in the first few days. Enough was enough! The rebel within myself that I had lulled to sleep long ago woke from its slumber. I decided if competence was the rule of the game, I must achieve it! Wherever I feel dejected I will act honorably; whenever I am depressed I will try to remain elated; whoever needs my assistance will never have to ask twice. These were small but important milestones! I was on my way to success with a newfound zeal and enthusiasm. I observed my colleagues at work and picked up the small hints they left. In about two weeks time I was an active part of the team. The world of Surgery had finally accepted me with open arms! The first great achievement was the translation of the duty roster for 24 hours and emergency duties. Finally I knew for certain when I would come home after the duty hours! The second accomplishment was related to the daily morning round. In the initial days I could not understand the idea of walking around the entire wards, asking and answering questions which were only partly audible and of course, strangely unfamiliar to my extremely reliable memory bank. I actually began knowing the patients and remembering the answers to some queries. It was only a matter of time when I gathered the confidence to try my luck at replying to some simple inquiries. The initial obstacles were surmounted and the voyage of discovery began.

Surgery is truly miracle medicine. I watch in awe, the massive inflow of patients who are admitted, then operated upon and finally discharged in good health. Sometimes there are chronically ill patients who stay with us for a longer duration. These familiar names and faces are like an integral part of the unit. The team itself consists of people of varying natures and personalities. Like a jigsaw, we have to adjust to the faults and flaws of each other to complete a homogenous image. It is easier said than done and there are definite rough times! The nursing staff, the ward peons and operation theatre attendants add the final touches to the unit we now call home. Duties are difficult; work is tedious but the harmony keeps us in a constant stream. The best aspect of working in a busy government hospital in a poor, third world country has not yet been discovered. So, I will not try to pinpoint the active role of poverty, lack of resources and obvious superhuman strength required to undergo living in this nightmare. However the elation felt over a mere expression of gratitude from a suffering soul surpasses my eloquence. Therefore the lacunae of our facilities are filled by the appreciation of our dedication from those whom we aid. Rarely, there are sad moments when we lose the fight against disease and here our consolations and humane attitude helps heal the wounds we could not stitch in time.

We are all allocated beds for which we are solely responsible and answerable. These are the measure of our commitment in our work. The exquisite feeling of achievement is sensational when you heal someone in pain. We also have thirty hours duties, which are for ease of reference known as twenty-four hours. In this duration the entire patient populace of the male and female ward is under the supervision of three doctors, two juniors and one senior. Although the workload is heavy but the autonomy of decision-making is invigorating. The best part however, is in emergency duties where you finally get your hands on the scalpel! The emergency room (ER) is another active source of confidence generation and the more you work independently, the more competent you feel. The operations offered to us under the kind supervision of our senior members are simply icing on the cake. Incision & drainage of abscess, removal of ingrown nail, simple stitching of wounds, removal of sebaceous cysts/ warts, appendisectomy and hernia repairs are the main attractions. The insomnia, fatigue, depression, anorexia and occasional episodes of hypotension are minor side effects. The overall banes and boons of house job are more or less balanced and one learns to be the junior most but vital member of a proficient group.

The narration of SUI is definitely halfhearted if I leave out the captivating occurrences within the operation theatre (O.T). The colorful parade of doctors in the ward is undeniably a prospect of salutation but when we enter the O.T, we are suddenly transformed into a single body form and the coordination is simply startling. A squad of healers, all dressed in meticulous white O.T dresses, caps, slings and masks are at work. Three tables are functioning simultaneously and each harbors at least three to four surgeons. The remaining theatre is studded with the O.T workers and the house officers on ‘conduction duty’. This is a very immaculate job where you provide everything required in the operations, the very moment it is asked for. This responsibility is really dreaded because of the obvious consequences when it is not performed skillfully. As you approach one of the tables, you realize that everyone is really acting as a limb in a single physical motion. There is a doctor sitting next to a repugnant, high tech set of equipment, which reminds you of some science fiction movie. This is the anesthetist. A lady is standing next to a trolley brimming with metallic instruments, operating gowns, sponges, drapes, etc. Every now and then she lets out a brief, curt order and magically, the house surgeons on conduction duty grant her wish. She is the staff nurse catering to the surgeon’s needs during the operative procedures. There are three or four surgeons, their heads bent in deep concentration over a single site highlighted by a spotlight. Concepts of ancient prophetic revelations are elucidated and for a brief moment a flicker of a smile touches your lips. Then the proceedings of the operation bring back a deep-rooted respect for the members of this sacred profession. The patient, now no longer aware of the brutality of the knife on his flesh, is blissfully under the aura of the anesthetist. Like a cutout from the enchanting tales of yore, there are sets of hands that skillfully move under the amber tinted beam of light. From here, fascination takes over your senses and you watch in wonderful admiration. Some hands hold retractors, some sponges and the scalpel. As the main surgeon cuts through skin into deeper tissues, the oozing blood is simultaneously wiped off with sponges, the bleeder is held with an artery clamp and then cauterized. Surgery is truly the work of hands. Like an artist submerged in creating his masterpiece, these professionals are deeply involved in work as their fingers dance to some silent music. Sometimes, in the flow of inspiration a beeper sounds and the heads bent in meditation look up. Someone’s cell phone is ringing and the owner is washed up with sterile gloves and gown… some blessed soul rushes up and holds the telephone to his ear and the phone call is received. This demonstrates how deeply attached and integrated the team is. As the operations come to an end, the surgeons disperse, leaving behind a disarray of bloodstained gowns and gloves. The naïve patient wakes up clean and clear of the markings of this traumatizing tribulation. Another interesting aspect of the O.T is the wash-up basins. A set of metallic sinks outlines a room located between the two main operating rooms. There are service bottles of antiseptic scrub on the walls. Our operating surgeons are regular visitors here before every procedure begins. Simple refreshment facilities during the long standing hours are provided next to the theatre by the Tea Club and these undemanding, hard working doctors sit on the marble tiled floor to rest their aching limbs during short breaks. The O.T is truly the hallmark of the efficiency and conviction of the members of our surgical floor.

My experience in the surgical specialty of SGRH has added immensely to myself both as a person and as a professional. I will always feel indebted to the kind words and support of my senior colleagues who have always been at hand to guide me towards a better future. These are the people who have given me a fair chance to prove my worth and in the process did not let me lose my self-respect. They are my friends for life! There are times when I truly detest the friction at work but then I remember that may it ever be so humble, there is no place like home. SUI has become a home in a very short time. The world of blades and scalpels is finer and less atrocious than I initially imagined. I know, I am no longer the inexperienced fresh graduate who could not cope with the hassles of professional life. I am a doctor fully equipped with the expertise to handle extreme situations with patience. I was right in thinking that life is a game of perspective. My life’s canvas was a little tinted but I could decipher the glow only from one appropriate angle…SUI has given me that outlook! And gratitude, they say, is a memory of the heart!