Report of 30 April 2006
Hello from Carmel public library -
Boy, I sure like hanging out here and miss it (the typical American public library) in India. The closest thing we have there w/ easy access is the library of the very prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, which has lots of scientific journals; once Scott and I went there on "date day" sans kids, revelled in the books and the greenery, resplendently visible from the large glass windows .
Life is ok, now that the giant spectre of Immigration is not looming over my head. I've been privileged to round w/ Dr. Robert Love and getting refreshed on all the pressing medical issues in American hospitals and w/ American patients. Many patients are memorable. There was the HIV+ young man who had stopped taking his meds due to side effects, Dr. Love sitting down and explaining his condition to him, and the young man listening intently. Also, the woman w/ lung cancer who had told her cancer doc that she had numbness in her foot and now the cancer has spread to her spinal cord, who was headstrong and wanted to take charge of her own body; my cousin's daughter had leukemia diagnosed at age 3, and is now 7, also headstrong, wilful and delightful - this is how I'd want a cancer patient to be, ready to fight the illness and all battles in life, not willing to take things lying down even if family chides her to "behave herself." There was the delightful woman (just about my age) who had had trouble moving her food along in her gut and who had to be seen by a surgeon; we'd stop to talk, and she had obviously reposed such trust in her physician that she would accept the next step in her management pretty unquestioningly. She asked me where I'd got my earrings, and I was happy to tell her "India," and suggested she look in the local Indian store for similar ones.
As we plonked along in rounds, and I marvelled at all the technology that was available to all patients, regardless of their economic status (in India, before we order a test, we have to mention the cost to the pts and let them decide) which is so fabulous, I began to realise that patients here and there were similar: ultimately, what makes the difference to them is the doctor sitting down to talk to them, taking a little time to explain the illness, a touch or 2 here and there, the obvious manifestation in the doctor's face that she or he would want the best outcome for the patient. In all things medical, then, what is singularly comforting is the human touch from the physician, not the CT scan, the MRI or very expensive chemotherapy.
Scott left for India last week, got to see his cousin Rebecca in Chicago (who put him up prior to departure and that was very kind), and has got home safely. It is 43 degrees celsius in Chennai - 109.4 degrees fahrenheit. And no airconditioning in our flat. The chocolate we bought here in post-Easter clearance sales has been shoved in the fridge, per Scott. He looks forward to going to B'lore, where it is cooler. The boys and I caught a movie - Hoodwinked - at the $1 cinema (one of our favorite haunts) and headed down to my in-laws' farm. We spent yesterday w/ Scott's brother Mark and family at his nephew Camden's b'day. It was a wonderful time, full of bonhomie, and the food was spectacular. All of Scott's sibs and his Mom were present and Camden's mother, Marybeth, had some very nice friends there as well; we lingered, chatting, eating and laughing and thoroughly enjoying the day. We took a heap of leftovers home (I simply love leftovers - readymade meals!) and the boys will get to enjoy 'em.
I am back in Indy and look forward to a little more hospital work. Dr. Love and I have also discussed faith, how mine took a beating when my brother died, how my husband, children, parents and sibs still have theirs, how some events on earth cannot be explained. It was a nice discussion and I was honored to participate in it.
Hey, I have a question for you: why do folks here (U.S.) complain so much?
Unw -
Renu
Boy, I sure like hanging out here and miss it (the typical American public library) in India. The closest thing we have there w/ easy access is the library of the very prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, which has lots of scientific journals; once Scott and I went there on "date day" sans kids, revelled in the books and the greenery, resplendently visible from the large glass windows .
Life is ok, now that the giant spectre of Immigration is not looming over my head. I've been privileged to round w/ Dr. Robert Love and getting refreshed on all the pressing medical issues in American hospitals and w/ American patients. Many patients are memorable. There was the HIV+ young man who had stopped taking his meds due to side effects, Dr. Love sitting down and explaining his condition to him, and the young man listening intently. Also, the woman w/ lung cancer who had told her cancer doc that she had numbness in her foot and now the cancer has spread to her spinal cord, who was headstrong and wanted to take charge of her own body; my cousin's daughter had leukemia diagnosed at age 3, and is now 7, also headstrong, wilful and delightful - this is how I'd want a cancer patient to be, ready to fight the illness and all battles in life, not willing to take things lying down even if family chides her to "behave herself." There was the delightful woman (just about my age) who had had trouble moving her food along in her gut and who had to be seen by a surgeon; we'd stop to talk, and she had obviously reposed such trust in her physician that she would accept the next step in her management pretty unquestioningly. She asked me where I'd got my earrings, and I was happy to tell her "India," and suggested she look in the local Indian store for similar ones.
As we plonked along in rounds, and I marvelled at all the technology that was available to all patients, regardless of their economic status (in India, before we order a test, we have to mention the cost to the pts and let them decide) which is so fabulous, I began to realise that patients here and there were similar: ultimately, what makes the difference to them is the doctor sitting down to talk to them, taking a little time to explain the illness, a touch or 2 here and there, the obvious manifestation in the doctor's face that she or he would want the best outcome for the patient. In all things medical, then, what is singularly comforting is the human touch from the physician, not the CT scan, the MRI or very expensive chemotherapy.
Scott left for India last week, got to see his cousin Rebecca in Chicago (who put him up prior to departure and that was very kind), and has got home safely. It is 43 degrees celsius in Chennai - 109.4 degrees fahrenheit. And no airconditioning in our flat. The chocolate we bought here in post-Easter clearance sales has been shoved in the fridge, per Scott. He looks forward to going to B'lore, where it is cooler. The boys and I caught a movie - Hoodwinked - at the $1 cinema (one of our favorite haunts) and headed down to my in-laws' farm. We spent yesterday w/ Scott's brother Mark and family at his nephew Camden's b'day. It was a wonderful time, full of bonhomie, and the food was spectacular. All of Scott's sibs and his Mom were present and Camden's mother, Marybeth, had some very nice friends there as well; we lingered, chatting, eating and laughing and thoroughly enjoying the day. We took a heap of leftovers home (I simply love leftovers - readymade meals!) and the boys will get to enjoy 'em.
I am back in Indy and look forward to a little more hospital work. Dr. Love and I have also discussed faith, how mine took a beating when my brother died, how my husband, children, parents and sibs still have theirs, how some events on earth cannot be explained. It was a nice discussion and I was honored to participate in it.
Hey, I have a question for you: why do folks here (U.S.) complain so much?
Unw -
Renu
posted by Renu Weiss at
12:22 PM
3 Comments:
I was born at the end of the depression. We were told to be thankful for everything that we had and to accept what life put before us. The younger generation doesn't remember the one pair of shoes per year, the co-operation of family members pooling their resources to bring in money or working together to raise food to eat. We have had too much given to us and it seems to have made us ungrateful for the blessings given to us.
By
Anonymous, at 30/4/06 2:55 PM
If you complain enough, then clearly you can't be said to be too well off; nor can you be expected to pitch in for others.
Also, complaining about the little things is one other way of filling that void we feel, or perhaps of dancing around the void without actually addressing it.
cheers.
By
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By
Anonymous, at 13/11/09 4:23 AM
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