Report of 13 May 2020
And then there was a gas leak.
As though the pandemic were not enough, an LG plant leaked styrene gas over a village to the north of us. Actually, the safety valves functioned as they ought, and leaked gas out of an overfilled tank, otherwise the tanks would have exploded, much more gas would have been released and many more deaths would have ensued.
While I thought COVID was the great equaliser - afflicting rich and poor alike - the poor in India have suffered more. Many leave their home states to seek work elsewhere. After work got suspended due to the pandemic, salaries were non-existent, food unprocurable and so, the migrant workers started walking home. Some sporadic efforts have been made to take the folks home, but they are mostly stopped and asked to return from whence they came, getting housed in quarantine centers. These centers are of variable quality, as is the food and drink - if any. A group of migrant workers - to escape these checks and stops - followed railroad tracks and fell asleep one night on said tracks; 16 of them were run over by a train which tried to alert them and tried to stop.
Thus is COVID and styrene gas, and poverty. It has been long seen - especially on airlines - that those who could afford less got less. Sad, I thought - at one time, airlines served everyone who got on the planes. Will we see a kinder, gentler world after COVID? I see a bit of it already on roads here: fellow drivers are more considerate and pedestrians more patient.
The lockdown eased up this week and I returned to work yesterday at the Banyan. One of our patients, Ms. X, died last week. She had had a urinary tract infection and was variably responding to the antibiotics. She ate sometimes and did not eat sometimes. On her last day, she was taken for a bath and uttered obscenities, as she sometimes would; after the bath, she lay down and was pulseless and without any measurable blood pressure. The staff tried to resuscitate her, to no avail. After 15 minutes, I suggested - over the phone - that they stop. I was immensely mollified at the obscenities; she was her usual self until she died. No suffering, no pain, no umpteen tubes in her body.
Ms. X was a beloved patient - passionately fond of old movie songs and dancing in perfect rhythm to them. She was a wonderful sight to behold. She was also the patient I feared most if I entered with a fancy haircut. I have mentioned this before. It was fine for the salon to tell me "Get this gel in your hair and shake your hair about, not 1 comb should touch your hair;" If I walked into Adaikalam thus, feeling so fly, Ms. X would peer at me, gesture to me to come over, reach under her pillow and produce her comb, and tell me to comb my hair. After a different patient, now a beautician, experimented with my hair - with my blessings - and gave me a very nice haircut, one of the former nurses asked what Ms. X thought of the haircut. Ms. X was that legendary. May her soul rest in peace.
I had thought during the lockdown that I was ready for retirement: I enjoyed having days at home with Scott - exercise, breakfast, make lunch (often healthy), read, study, do continuing medical education (CME), eat lunch, watch a movie. Then I returned to work yesterday and am re-hooked. See patients, treat them, have them get better, get smiles, see good health - all very addicting.
We hung out with both children on Mother's Day and they were sweetly indulgent, allowing the lengthy chat with utmost geniality and good humor. I spoke to my father and that was also fun. I give lectures in Tamil at the Banyan and he wanted to know Tamil words for some medical terms. He was pleasantly thunderstruck at the aptness of some words, e.g., the Tamil word for vital signs is "life status signs," which vital signs truly are.
Scott is convinced he will get - or has already got - COVID. As am I.
Hope all of you stay well and safe!
Unw -
R
As though the pandemic were not enough, an LG plant leaked styrene gas over a village to the north of us. Actually, the safety valves functioned as they ought, and leaked gas out of an overfilled tank, otherwise the tanks would have exploded, much more gas would have been released and many more deaths would have ensued.
While I thought COVID was the great equaliser - afflicting rich and poor alike - the poor in India have suffered more. Many leave their home states to seek work elsewhere. After work got suspended due to the pandemic, salaries were non-existent, food unprocurable and so, the migrant workers started walking home. Some sporadic efforts have been made to take the folks home, but they are mostly stopped and asked to return from whence they came, getting housed in quarantine centers. These centers are of variable quality, as is the food and drink - if any. A group of migrant workers - to escape these checks and stops - followed railroad tracks and fell asleep one night on said tracks; 16 of them were run over by a train which tried to alert them and tried to stop.
Thus is COVID and styrene gas, and poverty. It has been long seen - especially on airlines - that those who could afford less got less. Sad, I thought - at one time, airlines served everyone who got on the planes. Will we see a kinder, gentler world after COVID? I see a bit of it already on roads here: fellow drivers are more considerate and pedestrians more patient.
The lockdown eased up this week and I returned to work yesterday at the Banyan. One of our patients, Ms. X, died last week. She had had a urinary tract infection and was variably responding to the antibiotics. She ate sometimes and did not eat sometimes. On her last day, she was taken for a bath and uttered obscenities, as she sometimes would; after the bath, she lay down and was pulseless and without any measurable blood pressure. The staff tried to resuscitate her, to no avail. After 15 minutes, I suggested - over the phone - that they stop. I was immensely mollified at the obscenities; she was her usual self until she died. No suffering, no pain, no umpteen tubes in her body.
Ms. X was a beloved patient - passionately fond of old movie songs and dancing in perfect rhythm to them. She was a wonderful sight to behold. She was also the patient I feared most if I entered with a fancy haircut. I have mentioned this before. It was fine for the salon to tell me "Get this gel in your hair and shake your hair about, not 1 comb should touch your hair;" If I walked into Adaikalam thus, feeling so fly, Ms. X would peer at me, gesture to me to come over, reach under her pillow and produce her comb, and tell me to comb my hair. After a different patient, now a beautician, experimented with my hair - with my blessings - and gave me a very nice haircut, one of the former nurses asked what Ms. X thought of the haircut. Ms. X was that legendary. May her soul rest in peace.
I had thought during the lockdown that I was ready for retirement: I enjoyed having days at home with Scott - exercise, breakfast, make lunch (often healthy), read, study, do continuing medical education (CME), eat lunch, watch a movie. Then I returned to work yesterday and am re-hooked. See patients, treat them, have them get better, get smiles, see good health - all very addicting.
We hung out with both children on Mother's Day and they were sweetly indulgent, allowing the lengthy chat with utmost geniality and good humor. I spoke to my father and that was also fun. I give lectures in Tamil at the Banyan and he wanted to know Tamil words for some medical terms. He was pleasantly thunderstruck at the aptness of some words, e.g., the Tamil word for vital signs is "life status signs," which vital signs truly are.
Scott is convinced he will get - or has already got - COVID. As am I.
Hope all of you stay well and safe!
Unw -
R
posted by Renu at
6:29 AM
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