Report of 15 Oct '06
Hello from sultry Chennai -
This has been an unpleasant week. I think I've been in a bad mood through much of it, and it is only just lifting because my oh-so tolerant spouse is on the couch here also doing some work.
Our patient w/ HIV, Ms. K, whom I've spoken of in talks, has a son in an orphanage here. The teacher noticed that the child was not picking up toys on his right and they sent him to the eye doctor. Nothing amiss was found, and a couple of months later, his gait started to waver. He was re-sent to the ophthalmologist (eye doctor) and found to have cancer in his right eye, which has spread to his left. He will lost the right eye for sure, likely the left, and the doctor does not think he will tolerate chemotherapy and radiation. I am really furious and distressed: I don't know if substandard care was given because the child is from an orphanage and not the product of wealthy parents, or what the heck happened, but we are going to have a blind child at the end of this whole exercise. We have asked for the test reports, but the docs are balking at giving them to us.
Neighbors of ours, Mr. M and his family, have started a customised suit-making and exporting business, and their grandfather, also a neighbor and sometime patient of mine, stated that the business was very successful and that Mr. M (now 33) could retire in 3 years. Before I could stop it, the ugly face of envy loomed. I thought to myself that being financially settled would be a great thing, and that I could perhaps buy N and N pizza on a more regular basis than once in 6 months. When Scott and I discussed this, he mentioned that M's clientele was not the poor but the wealthy in the U.S. and the U.K.; that if I'd practiced in the U.S., I could also have retired after 5-8 years of work; that if I had more money, I'd be giving it away, anyway (the spectre of Hospice remains just that - a distant dream).
And then, I showed up at the B, and we got a patient rescued from the street. She smelled foul, and didn't say anything, and the health care workers (hcw's) got ready to give her a bath and take her to the Institute of Mental Health (IMH). I was then called to see her, and this was why: she had a huge gash across her right buttock and the skin and flesh were hanging off it. The possible causes of this saddened me greatly, and I again could not really stop to mull over man's depravity to man (are we the only species that does this?). We made plans to send her to the hospital first, as she needed surgery for this huge wound. I didn't want to send her stinking, though, and as I supervised arrangements for her bath and haircut, I was struck by how trusting she was, though nonverbal. She looked at me w/ placid eyes, declined my offer of food and sat unfightingly through a sponge bath and haircut. She could answer no questions about how the tear had happened, and so we put a huge gauze dressing on it, wrote a note to the duty doctor and sent her on. We can only imagine the circumstances under which certain patients come to us - emaciated, dirty, reeking, w/ either broken bones or HIV - but they must sense that we mean them no harm as we bathe them and arrange for a meal. This is a powerfully humbling trust.
This, then, is what my purpose on earth is, eh. Some people are put on earth to make money, some to take it; some are here to care for others and some to make us wonder why we ought to bother caring; some play certain games very well and get what they want in life, and some will always struggle for their next meal; some will have staggeringly wonderful spouses and some will get the tar beaten out of them by the same person that put the ring on their finger or the thali round their neck; some will have mouthy teenagers and some will pray for the day their teenager says, "Amma;" some will keep their morals and values intact and yet be successful (see www.infosys.com - Scott's company's founder is called the "Corporate Gandhi"), and some will perforce prostitute themselves in more ways than one to reach a goal; some might lose a child and still retain faith in a higher power, and some will lose a sibling and say "What God?"; some will go gently insane and some will find their way to the Banyan so that we might treat their mental and physical illnesses and send them home to a family where the children wait for their Amma, that she might make some curd rice or some biryani, and give the kids a smile as they return from school.
I welcome all messages. Find fault w/ my thinking if you want. As I wallowed in this rage and forced myself to suppress the envy, this thought also occurred to me - there are many, many people in this world far worse off than I.
"My early choice in life was either to be a piano player in a whorehouse or a politician. And to tell the truth, there's hardly any difference." - Harry S. Truman
Unw -
Renu
This has been an unpleasant week. I think I've been in a bad mood through much of it, and it is only just lifting because my oh-so tolerant spouse is on the couch here also doing some work.
Our patient w/ HIV, Ms. K, whom I've spoken of in talks, has a son in an orphanage here. The teacher noticed that the child was not picking up toys on his right and they sent him to the eye doctor. Nothing amiss was found, and a couple of months later, his gait started to waver. He was re-sent to the ophthalmologist (eye doctor) and found to have cancer in his right eye, which has spread to his left. He will lost the right eye for sure, likely the left, and the doctor does not think he will tolerate chemotherapy and radiation. I am really furious and distressed: I don't know if substandard care was given because the child is from an orphanage and not the product of wealthy parents, or what the heck happened, but we are going to have a blind child at the end of this whole exercise. We have asked for the test reports, but the docs are balking at giving them to us.
Neighbors of ours, Mr. M and his family, have started a customised suit-making and exporting business, and their grandfather, also a neighbor and sometime patient of mine, stated that the business was very successful and that Mr. M (now 33) could retire in 3 years. Before I could stop it, the ugly face of envy loomed. I thought to myself that being financially settled would be a great thing, and that I could perhaps buy N and N pizza on a more regular basis than once in 6 months. When Scott and I discussed this, he mentioned that M's clientele was not the poor but the wealthy in the U.S. and the U.K.; that if I'd practiced in the U.S., I could also have retired after 5-8 years of work; that if I had more money, I'd be giving it away, anyway (the spectre of Hospice remains just that - a distant dream).
And then, I showed up at the B, and we got a patient rescued from the street. She smelled foul, and didn't say anything, and the health care workers (hcw's) got ready to give her a bath and take her to the Institute of Mental Health (IMH). I was then called to see her, and this was why: she had a huge gash across her right buttock and the skin and flesh were hanging off it. The possible causes of this saddened me greatly, and I again could not really stop to mull over man's depravity to man (are we the only species that does this?). We made plans to send her to the hospital first, as she needed surgery for this huge wound. I didn't want to send her stinking, though, and as I supervised arrangements for her bath and haircut, I was struck by how trusting she was, though nonverbal. She looked at me w/ placid eyes, declined my offer of food and sat unfightingly through a sponge bath and haircut. She could answer no questions about how the tear had happened, and so we put a huge gauze dressing on it, wrote a note to the duty doctor and sent her on. We can only imagine the circumstances under which certain patients come to us - emaciated, dirty, reeking, w/ either broken bones or HIV - but they must sense that we mean them no harm as we bathe them and arrange for a meal. This is a powerfully humbling trust.
This, then, is what my purpose on earth is, eh. Some people are put on earth to make money, some to take it; some are here to care for others and some to make us wonder why we ought to bother caring; some play certain games very well and get what they want in life, and some will always struggle for their next meal; some will have staggeringly wonderful spouses and some will get the tar beaten out of them by the same person that put the ring on their finger or the thali round their neck; some will have mouthy teenagers and some will pray for the day their teenager says, "Amma;" some will keep their morals and values intact and yet be successful (see www.infosys.com - Scott's company's founder is called the "Corporate Gandhi"), and some will perforce prostitute themselves in more ways than one to reach a goal; some might lose a child and still retain faith in a higher power, and some will lose a sibling and say "What God?"; some will go gently insane and some will find their way to the Banyan so that we might treat their mental and physical illnesses and send them home to a family where the children wait for their Amma, that she might make some curd rice or some biryani, and give the kids a smile as they return from school.
I welcome all messages. Find fault w/ my thinking if you want. As I wallowed in this rage and forced myself to suppress the envy, this thought also occurred to me - there are many, many people in this world far worse off than I.
"My early choice in life was either to be a piano player in a whorehouse or a politician. And to tell the truth, there's hardly any difference." - Harry S. Truman
Unw -
Renu
posted by Renu Weiss at
8:25 AM
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