Salt N Pepper

I was posted in the CCU (Coronary Care Unit) where the days were peaceful unless there was an acute emergency. I remember doing my first CPR (Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation) under the beneficial guidance of Dr. Amir. With a pounding heart I tried to resuscitate the patient. All was in vain, for after half an hour's toil the patient expired, except for an invaluable lesson I learnt. In a time of emergency, the doctor's most essential tool is his cool nerves. I've a very tender heart and my frivolous urge to specialize in the coronary care, leaves me no other choice than to remain calm and passive in crazy situations. I'm one of those silly doctors who always cry when they lose a patient. I feel as if a part of me has died and I stood there watching it go. My senior colleagues often try to talk me out of these feelings but I guess i'll have to learn with time, the hard way! Although I have adopted so many of their ways instinctively and have grown as a person, I too need to figure out the crevices and corners of my own soul. These days, I know, will always mark the heights I achieve or the dreams that never came true! This very realization takes me years ahead in time and all I do is the outcome of a well pondered course of action that brings me one step closer to what I want to become.

In one of these days, i've met a new perspective of living ... one that leaves me exhausted and drained. I'd like to share these frantic changes before I grow out of them and learn, too late that the joy of small victories has surpassed my soul. One of these winds of change is a new friend. We met quite by accident or it was be fated perhaps. I've been in and out of these hospital passages for years, but I never brushed across this gray haired fellow who limps with his left leg. Never could I imagine the intensity of impact he had on my soul. It looked like he turned me inside out and I stood before him as a bare soul exposed to the core, and my body was buried somewhere deep within. The first day was a mere brush against him. I could have instinctively called him a shallow, show-off, unimpressive, loudmouthed fool. But I was the real fool! The days ahead had many surprises in store for me. In the days that followed we met frequently and he tested my patience beyond my endurance. This fellow never gave up the chance to embarrass me. The first day when we really talked was when he asked us to take up our respective patients and routinely examine them while he was watching to point out our mistakes. He surely seemed arrogant of his knowledge and seniority. With a heavy heart, I solemnly decided that I hate this person who nags at my usual cheerful continence and never lets go of an opportunity to disappoint me. That day, my patient was an old lady with Myocardial Infarction. Irritated by his constant gaze and continuous supervision, I decided to play perfect and act confidant. With a touch of pride to my natural cheerfulness , I started chatting to my new patient. My hands were moving magically to find the positive symptoms as I was carefully observing the necessary details. Observing my performance made him smile but I continued to ignore the small chuckling that emerged out of him every now and then. My heightened confidence rooted from the fact that I was well aware of the impact my apathy towards him had on his ego. He must be screaming inside for the casual way in which I defied his authority. I too, enjoyed playing the game by his rules. There were three of us under his supervision. Being thoroughly irritated with his attitude we were not the least bothered to please him in any way. After what seemed like ages of silent war, finally, he broke down his defenses and requested us to sit by him. He started asking us personal questions and talked about many things. We were affected by his change of mood and relaxed a little, but still defied by his previous attitude, I kept a haughty streak in our conversation. I hardly spoke to him and critically analyzed his words and actions. The memory of my frivolous pride still makes me laugh. I have a strong sixth sense but God knows where it went in his respect. Who could imagine that this absolutely unimpressive guy was to turn my world upside down and I could do nothing but watch him do it? Goodness! I never looked at the guy twice! He was clearly no prince charming! The fact that he had hurt my pride added fuel to fire. No way could I forgive him...or so I thought!!

The one moment in which he shattered my ego was a once in a lifetime experience. My friends and I were enjoying a casual dialogue when he interrupted us and asked what we were up to. Frowning I replied, "Nothing!"
He pursed his lips, sighed and slowly sat down besides me. With my gaze still fixed on his face, I continued to frown biting my lower lip, obviously impatient to see his next move. In his usual, slow, masculine voice he spoke to us, " Would you like to learn about some connective tissue disorder ...er... like Rheumatoid Arthritis?" Rumor said that he was an excellent and competent doctor. Very proud, very difficult but equally learned. The bottom line was, if he'd teach us, we'd love to learn! " Yes, sir!!" we mumbled in a chorus. Waving his right forearm before my face, he silently and sadly began to speak. " These are the positive findings most typical of Rheumatoid Arthritis: ulner deviation of fingers, buttonierre deformity ..." I never heard the rest of his words! My heart was shattered from the irony of life and of course, ashamed of my attitude. All I saw was a sick but brave man, facing the fact that he was dying a slow, torturous death with a lion heart. For the first time I could envision the man he really was. I saw his face and read all the lines and wrinkles. Every sketch had a tale to tell. His eyes were a deep shade of gray ... like the marshes in winter, and filled with a million secrets of life and death. His lips, now elegantly moulding to the speech that I could no longer comprehend, curled in an innocent smile every now and then. The lock of gray hair that loosely touched his forehead, now revealed creases of worry and pain that were never visible to my sight. Wearing casual jeans and a dainty turtle neck sweater, he looked more of a schoolboy than a mature man at least a decade senior to myself. Somewhere in between these thoughts I realized that I was staring point blankly at his face ... something quite inappropriate for a lady to do. When I regained my self control, I was trembling inside and there he was ... smiling! I finally gave up my weak defenses and smiled back. He laughed saying that he loved the way lines creep under my eyes and dimples pop out of nowhere on my cheeks when I smile. The war was definitely over! We never had a quarrel again. So many days passed like moments. I'd often arrive hours early from my duty timings and he'd stay for hours later. We could talk for hours at a stretch. I never thought I could be such a chatterbox. We'd laugh and giggle over the smallest things. We never talked about the usual silly stuff. It was always a learning experience. he taught me more of medicine in a month than I would have learnt in years. Then, about the philosophy of life. He was an encyclopedia on life itself and I gained more experience listening to him talk about life than life taught me in two decades. He was such a jovial person, one laugh a minute. The only moments I remember, not smiling with him, was when the pain in his joints reached beyond his endurance and he winced quietly with his eyes closed. Sometimes he had to take intraarticular injections of steroids and analgesics for the excruciating pain and I'd help him with it. In return, he'd always have candies in his pockets for me. I asked him about his wife and children. He loved kids but didn't have any. His wife, he said, was a loving person. He'd often say, "I have gray hair but I'm not that old!" ( I guess, he was in his mid thirties) He called his hair "salt'n pepper". Later, we started calling HIM salt 'n pepper. Actually, he was more of a sugar 'n salt person. He moulded so well to your taste, that it was hard to define what one liked best about him ... perhaps, the answer was simply everything!

He'd sometimes try to coax out my vicious side by light malicious comments. Something I had learnt to avoid completely. He knew poetry was my passion. One day he said he hated poetry and poets. They're silly folks trying to win the world with words. I wisely declined to comment on the aspect. No way was I going to argue with him! I knew he was teasing. The next day he recited a beautiful poem, and we started talking about nature and poetry. He asked if I knew why the waterfalls make so much noise when they hit the rocks beneath? I smiled saying, your theory first, boss! He said, " the waterfalls are so proud of their high and mighty origin that the fall shatters their pride and they scream in agony". I gave my imaginative explanation. " You see, the water comes from the distant heights that were once home to the rocks beneath. The lonesome rocks ask the waters about their beloved homeland and the waters tell them tales of loved ones left behind. They are so busy in chatting to each other that they forget about everyone else who are listening to their talk." He laughed so heartily and said, " We're like the waterfall, aren't we? We say all that we want, to each other without a single thought of anyone else. And we move on happily, knowing that parting is a part of the deal!" The truth of his words stole the joys from my lips. Life can be so incredible!! I saw his eyes shine like stars at night and I knew that somehow in his newfound gaiety my friendship was the foundation stone. With his chubby hand cupping his face from one side he whispered, " Thank you". Winking with joy I said, " You're welcome, always!"

When he had asked about my future aspirations, I keenly recited the long list of dreams and the ways I would achieve each and every one of them. He was watching my eyes light up with enthusiasm, his fist supporting his chin on the table. I was sure he'd ask me to wake up and face the real world. All he said was, " You'll make it to the top! Your passion and dedication will never let you down!" Suddenly I was proud of his confidence in me and I felt as if I had reached halfway to my destination. Here was a friend ready to believe in me no matter how impossible or improbable my dreams were. He'd tell me of all the obstacles i'd face but not once ask me to let go of my faith in myself. He was the perfect raw material for a life lasting friendship! On another occasion, he was working in the CCU when I arrived a little late. I was dressed in black with a slight touch of turquoise. He complemented generously and I blushed. That was enough to get him going. We stepped onto a silly conversation. He said that we all dress up and look beautiful because of others around us. Or at least for someone special who we want to appear special to. I denied saying that we dress up to portray ourselves as we'd like people to see us, but people do not influence it in any other way. For anyone special in our lives its plain infatuation if we have to dress up to be loved. Those who love us have to take us as we are, not as they want us to be. I guess I hit the nail on the head. He solemnly asked, "Would you opt for someone as a life partner who was handicapped or seriously sick? No! and you know why? Because we are all beauty conscious and are searching for perfection in everything." Although there was some truth at the heart of his words but there were other realities with it and I slowly began to chalk out my views. " True to some extent, my friend, but perhaps the man I love would not be rich or handsome, perhaps i'll fall for the way he listens to me when I feel like talking and the silence he shares when i'm lonesome. what if he gets sick after I choose him? would I let him go? The answer is simple ... would he let me go if I fall ill later? Then how could I possibly consider the option. A handful of memories with a person who treasures you are worth a lifetime spent otherwise." In short, he had uprooted a very sensitive issue and we discussed the pros and cons for a long time. He concluded the evening with a sweet smile, small lines scattered all over his face, " Some lucky man, somewhere is going to be blessed by you someday ... what would I give to be in his shoes?" Shyly I admitted that I always pray that may I be the luckier one to have my companion on my side. That, he said, would be practically impossible!

There are so many silly things that I smile upon, but only one realization that startles even me! I've always known myself to be a perfectionalist both in my profession and in my personal life. This person got through all my critique without a single obstacle, and I found myself praying for him to get better and live long. He is physically unattractive, diseased and disabled, yet he has more domination in my heart and mind than any other person that I can quote. I can only conclude that a person needs something in his soul to attract others, the body is a mere container. The content of his soul is worth all the trouble his body brings! I will never again look upon anyone superficially for I know that only a few can measure up to the mettle of this gentleman! May God heal him and grant him a life filled with all the joys in the world. For all years to come Rheumatoid Arthritis will always bring a smile to my lips and a shine to my eyes! And I'll remember that the most debilitating diseases cannot stain our souls. I'll always call him 'Misty Eyes' and 'Salt 'n Pepper' but i'll remember him as the reed of innocent courage that never gave up in lone despair.