A surgeon’s life is very intriguing. It’s anything but boring. It’s been a while since I started my practice in Odisha (India). 20 years to be precise. I will tell about events in my professional life in a concise way, events that helped shape my career as a doctor.
It was a long time ago. I was fresh from Delhi and was starting my practice in Odisha. As a new-comer, I had to undertake surgeries on difficult and challenging cases, especially those ones refused by senior and more established surgeons.
The first such case that took under my care was a case of complete gangrene of large intestine. The patient was very sick and the situation was such that he would succumb to the disease if not operated. Against the advice of well-wishers, I operated upon him. By the grace of God and some efforts from our side, he survived. He walked home after 2 weeks after eating a full meal. I was thrilled and thanked God for his recovery.
Time passed, I was becoming busy by the day. I used to go home late at night as my work schedule demanded it. One night I was descending the stairs after a long surgery. A woman, not more than 50 years of age, was standing there and observing me. I went into the ward, it was around 11 pm, for my rounds. I heard a patient crying out of pain. I asked the attending nurse about that patient. She told me that it was a case of terminal cancer of pancreas and he was in a lot of pain. No painkillers were working. In those days, there were no available procedures for pain management. Then, the nurse told me that the mother of that young patient had been waiting for me. I was a bit surprised, still I called her. There she was, the same lady observing me near the stairs. She looked familiar. She told me that she was the wife of the person whom I had treated on death bed for gangrene of colon, and he had survived. Now I recognised her and enquired regarding her problem. She told me that the patient crying out of pain happened to be her son. She requested me to come and see her son once. I agreed, although I knew I would not be able to help her. The patient was about 22 years of age and was in distress. She asked me for an unusual favour. A favour I was not qualified to give. She told me that her dying son wanted me to touch and examine him once, the son (patient) was convinced that if I touched him, his pain would disappear. It was a general ward, other patients nearby were also listening. The favour, absurd it may sound, was very convincing especially by the patient. The way he asked me, I didn’t know what to do. He told me that he knew his life was slowly going away, but he wanted a dignified way to go. There was an elderly gentleman sitting in another bed, he came to me and told me, sir, you’ve nothing to lose by touching him once.
At that moment science deserted me and I was overwhelmed by my feelings. Mixed feelings, of course, but yes I was overwhelmed. I had the audacity to go near him, touch and examine him, all this time believing and praying. Till today, I cannot explain what happened to me. I stayed with him till 12.30 am and then I left, with a heavy heart. Next day, the nurse told me that the patient slept peacefully. He lived for a few days and I used to visit him. He died peacefully with minimal pain management.
The irony is that the father came out of death bed only to see his son die, and I happened to be part of both. Then, I keep thinking, how can a mere touch alleviate pain, a pain where all modalities had failed. Yes, people treat doctors as gods or second gods. But I firmly believe that there is a third force, an unseen one, that actually runs the show. That day changed my perception of treatment. We are no gods, neither should we try to be one, but yes, as a doctor, I believe touching a patient has a big impact.
That night taught me humility, power of prayer and of course the fragility of life.
