Phillip Hughes : Too Soon?

When a person dies before the ripe old age of 60 years, it's called an early, untimely death. It doesn't matter what the cause may be - myocardial infarction, stroke, accident, cancer, or murder. An untimely death is always associated with "he didn't deserve it", "he was so young", "how could this happen?", "miss you forever", "in our hearts forever" and so many of these phrases.

That is exactly what is happening today since the breaking news that Australian Cricketer Phillip Hughes could not survive the injury he received from a bouncer. For a better part of today, I've been confused. First there was a "No!! NO!!" moment, followed by a "but it's simply not true" moment followed by a big lecture to God for ignoring my prayers since Tuesday (yes, I am arrogant enough to believe that God does what I ask him to). Then, after all that, came this confusion. Confusion because I still can't digest the fact that I will never see his name in the national team batting line-up; confusion because I almost expect him to walk out on the Gabba pitch next week; confusion because he's just 25; confusion because I don't consider cricket a fatal game - you may lose an eye, but a life?; confusion because I have watched this player bat since his international debut and I find it hard to believe that I will not be able to see how his career shapes up; confusion because the completeness of death makes me wonder whether all these "you're forever in our hearts" phrases are just empty or face-saving or soul-saving.

I feel that saying all this is our way of saying, "I'm guilty I never thought more about you during your lifetime. Trust me, now that you're gone, I'm so going to do it." I shall be the first to admit that I never thought about Hughes unless and until he actually played in the international team. I am a fan, but I shall not follow the careers of players day in and day out. So hearing the news of his injury made me feel guilty. Maybe if I had paid more attention, this wouldn't have happened. Crazy thought, but something to think about. Then, when he was battling for his life yesterday, I prayed that he survive. Because that was the least I could do. Amongst, the absolute dread of a news like today, I felt guilty for sending up a prayer only when it was the only thing that could save him. I felt guilty for not appreciating this wonderful cricketer as much as I should have before. That got me thinking, is this what is actually the message in peoples' "RIP" thoughts that plaster all the social networks? When a life is cut short, do we feel guilty because we thought we had all the time in the world to appreciate and thank that life? After all, I probably would've said stuff like," You're an amazing cricketer, a fantastic batsman and have been a great part of the team that I love, hope the new path you choose be as successful as the one you're leaving", when he retired. But, who knew, it would never reach that stage.

I've always been a little sensitive about the issue of death. I simply cannot understand why it has to happen. So when somebody so young (just 2 years older than me!) dies, I question nature and it's ways. He did not even get to say good-bye. And, that right there, would hurt his near ones more. He left in the morning to play the game he loves, was probably delighted when he reached his 50 and thought he could even reach the 100. And then out of nowhere, this bouncer decides to trick him. Next thing you know, he's down and gone, and all he must've realised is that he got hit. That's it. No life flashing in his eyes, no last words, just nothing at all. You almost wish he'd regained consciousness to at least let him know that he would be missed, loved, prayed for and thanked for being who he was.

Let's thank him and his talent for those 3 amazing international test centuries to his name, for being a part of the national team, for being such an amazing talent, for his contributions to his state and club, for being the person he was to his family, friends and team mates, for giving fans like me something to cheer about. I wish you hadn't gone away. I wish you were going to play next week. I wish I could watch you open the innings for eternity. I wish the only reason I never got to see you bat again, was because you weren't selected into the final 11. Now, that option seems so much easier to deal with than what we've been given.

Our only solace is that the last thing you ever did was play the game you love and score that 63. That number will never ever be the same again.

  That's how you'll always be....a great life, a great career :-)

Laparoscopy

On this weekend, I had the opportunity to attend a workshop on Basic and Advanced Laparoscopy. We were taught everything about Laparoscopy from the very beginning - how to hold the instruments, what the instruments are, how to suture stuff inside the abdomen, working the instrument with what you see on the camera in front of you, hand-eye co-ordination, where and how to put the ports in....all the stuff that you want to know before you just plunge into Laparoscopic surgeries.
Thing is, I've always watched Laparoscopies. Easiest surgery to watch actually. It is an Air-conditioned OR (yeah, I guess I've started using a lot of American terminologies now. If I plan on doing my residency there, makes sense to use their words instead of ours), you can sit on a comfy stool to watch and you have as good a view of the organs as the operating Surgeon. It's pretty damn amazing. After all, it is tiring to watch a 5 hour surgery standing tiptoed, in a crowd, straining your neck from here to there to get a better view.
So back to the workshop. We started with the Endo Trainer. Its a plastic box with holes for the ports. They keep stuff like plates of peanuts, sugar cubes, Polo pills, match sticks and plastic gloves in it. The instruments go in through the holes. You can get really good training in picking those peanuts up, moving them from one plate to the other. The sugar cubes are a little tougher. You have to stack them on one another. The 2-D image in front of you doesn't help a lot in that. The match sticks and Polo pills are the worst. You have to pick a pill and then loop it into the match stick that's stuck down on the rubber padding. Not as easy as it looks! We also got to learn and practice intracorporeal suturing on the same. I, apparently did not have great instruments. But, wow, was that tough!
The key to good Laparoscopy is to stop working with your hands in your head. This is just my thought. I'm just a beginner. But, from what I saw and did, I realised this. When you learn a new language, for example, you always tend to think in the language you know well. And then, you translate that thought into your new language. It's only when you start thinking in that new language that you actually learn. That's the same principle with Laparoscopy too. You can't keep thinking of how you'd separate tissue or suture an incision with your bare hands and then use those methods with that instrument. You have to allow that instrument to be your hand. The needle-holder is not going to be this 20 inch long instrument that you directly hold and just plunge inside. It's going to have a long handle, a different grip and, most importantly, a really small area to move in. Unless and until you can think in terms of moving the needle holder and picture it as a part of your working hand, you can never get good with Laparoscopy. That needs patience, practice and perseverance.
I personally had a great time. I realised yet again, how much I LOVE surgery, love being inside an OR. I also learnt that I am good at this. Day to day practice and I could make myself really really proud. I like looking back at things I've done and marvel at them. I like saying stuff like, "Wow!! You go girl!". I can do that in Surgery or any surgical field. It's great to know that the love I'd felt during my Casualty posting was not a one time thing. I know I love this and I get a feeling I can get really good at it too.
I thank my luck that I had this opportunity so early on. Experiences like these help mould the clay of my confused mind into a beautiful pot. There is a long way to go, but I'm taking small steps. And, I get a feeling that the beautiful piece of art is not very far off :-)

SNAKE!!!

That slithering reptile and I have a wonderful history. We meet regularly. Unexpectedly. And I lose a few years of life, thanks to the sudden rush of adrenaline all through my blood vessels and the spontaneous overworking of my heart.
Ever since we moved into our new house (not so new now) 3 years back, we'd heard stories about how people here found snakes in their homes...some found them in their bathrooms, others in their gardens, some 'lucky' ones found them on their beds, occupying it as if the bed were the snake's rightful place, not that poor human being's. There was this one day, when we were still in the process of doing the interior, that mom came home with photos of a snake caught at the home of our to-be neighbours. We were excited. Previously, my only tryst with a snake had been watching one cross the road as I cycled...that too from a distance. When we moved into this current home, we were told it was only a matter of time before we became members of the sacred group "Snakes In Our Home". It took a year, but we did get there.
I don't remember if I'd written about the snake visit last year. It was a day before Diwali. I opened my bathroom door to find something on the wash basin. Something that did not look like an earthworm. Something that was definitely a snake. We called the concerned people and after an hour of intense searching, they found it hidden under the lining of the wash basin. That was tiny. Although initially scared, I managed to gather my wits together in time, and enjoyed watching the whole process.
My second time was the scary one. If I die at 65 years of age, I shall always say in Heaven that I was supposed to die at 70 years, but that fateful day changed that equation forever. It was evening. I was watching TV. For some unknown reason, I decided to watch till 6:30 pm instead of 6:00 pm. I heard some bottles fall. Since they are kept near the window, it's usually due to the wind. So, I looked up expecting to see an empty window. Instead, I saw a thick black rope hung in a U-shape around it. It was moving. Told myself I was imagining things. How could a rope move?? And even if it was, it would be outside the window. Because, all the doors were closed and all our windows have the mosquito screens placed. I couldn't see properly because the kitchen lights were switched off. That sort of made it worse.
Then, without any warning, that rope moved faster and twirled around the sink taps!! Crap. It was a snake. INSIDE MY HOUSE. AND THERE WAS NOTHING BUT EMPTY FLOOR BETWEEN IT AND ME. That was the moment I realised what petrified with fear is like. I couldn't move. I couldn't remember where I'd kept my cell phone. When I tried the landline, I couldn't remember my parents' cell phone numbers. When I got my phone out of my room, I couldn't operate it properly. When I finally got through to my mom, even her assistant realised there was something majorly wrong, my voice was so shaky. Yes, that day, I understood fear. And in the process of understanding fear and trying to save myself, I chucked what I should've done i.e., sit quietly and keep an eye on that snake. It was huge. It extended from the top corner of the window down to the tap where it had managed to twirl around a few times. That and the fact that I couldn't see properly (add on, being alone in the house) pushed me out of the house without any further thoughts. It was an hour before those people came and they searched the entire area, but couldn't find it. I slept in fear for the next couple of nights. And I can never look at that sink in the same way again.
The third time was less scary, because this time, the snake was hanging down from our backyard roof and I was sitting safely in my room that looks into the backyard. There was a screen, broad daylight and a confused snake still deciding whether to enter our backyard or move into our neighbour's. Previous experience told me to keep a watch on the snake and I made sure I saw it go. This time, I was alone but, braver. When it isn't inside your house, my nerves don't crash down.
Today was sighting number 4. Again, I was alone, in my room, not thinking about a snake at all. Heard the movement of a mug and buckets. Told myself, it is that cat. Obviously, can't be a snake. Look down form my window and bingo! SNAKE. Long long long...could only see the body and tail, no head. Yes, I was freaked out. My mom says she thought so too when she talked to me. Couldn't get through to the usual guy, he gave me another guy's number. While doing all this calling, that stupid snake, after having searched the whole area around our wash place, decided to go down the drain. When I told this to the snake guy, he told me to throw some water with phenol down the drain. I told him I wasn't going to do it. Keeping an eye on the snake is fine. Going right to where it is and trying to irritate it, is NOT. He came and did that. He said that since these snakes can't stand the smell of phenol, it would come out in an hour or so, if it were still in the drain. It did. And he caught it. I'm putting up the videos here. It was huge. Like 6 feet long. It was the same one I saw last time. Mom thinks it is also the one I saw that dreaded second time. Maybe. Because that snake was definitely long. Thank God, this snake was caught. My home was slowly turning into this cluster out-of-bounds areas. I'd have probably just been left with my bed as my safe place. And now Dad has to believe me. He thought I'd mistaken ropes or other things for snakes last two times. Mom was totally freaked out too. I was at least quiet with my emotions. She was literally dancing in her place.

Please dear slithering reptiles. I admit it. I'm shit scared of you guys. I do not like to even see you guys. Please spare my life and stop coming into my field of vision. 4 times. 4 times we've had snakes in our house. All 4 times, I've spotted them. Please no more. Please.        

To The Teachers Who Made Me

Every year on Teacher’s Day, I call up one school teacher to wish her. I may not call any body else, but I have to call her. This year, when that did not happen, I couldn’t sit still. I kept fiddling with my cellphone, trying her number many times. I wondered, when she did not pick up on any of the calls, whether she had shifted; and whether I would ever be able to wish her a Happy Teacher’s Day again.

This is my class teacher and Maths Teacher of Class 9 and 10, Mrs. Siraj. She was new to our school and was given the responsibility of our class. She was brilliant. There is no other word to describe her. Maths teachers are always intelligent, but she had a way about her. She was strict and, at the same, sweet too. She treated us all equally, a quality so needed but so unfrequently found in our school. She was partial to our class, obviously. The number of times she scolded us for making too much noise (and our class was above the Principal’s Office) are too many to count. She said that since we were her children, it reflected upon her ability as a mother, when we were unruly and noisy. She scolded a lot of girls for being unlady-like, but you could always see that she really cared.

Did she pick me out to be her special one? No. But, she always supported us when it came to sharpening our talent. When our school had to send the 8 brightest students for a ‘Catch ‘Em Young Programme’ by Infosys, she chose me. When I got selected amongst the top 30 in the city to attend this program, she told me that she knew I had it in me to be the only one selected from our school. When I did bad in Maths, she was always there to guide me (in the process criticise me for my silly mistakes). I remember that we had Practice Exams before our ICSE boards. She gave me a 92/100 in Maths, despite my having solved all the sums correctly. She told me that she had cut my marks for the steps I hadn’t written. Nobody was going to look at my Practice Exam marks, but I was not to make the mistake of skipping steps in the Boards. When I got that 99/100 in my boards, I was disappointed because somehow, I had still managed to skip a step or two. She let me solve so many different papers during my Preparation Leave. My mother used to go to school to meet her so that she could correct those papers. And she did it. Without a word about the extra work she had to do.

I still remember that last day of school…we were all so emotional. Our days in school had been cut short by our Principal. We were to sit at home a week earlier now. It was a Friday and we had a double Maths lesson at the end of the day. Usually, this lesson was reserved for tests. This Friday was no different. We complained to all our other teachers that it was our last day at school, and Mrs. Siraj was giving us a Maths test to end school life with. The other teachers must have talked to her, because she came into class and said she wouldn’t want to disappoint us so much. She cancelled that test. Instead, she spoke to us for an entire hour…talked to us about life, about how whatever happens, we stood stand strong and confident about ourselves…how our parents are the foundation that we should never let go of…friends may come and go, but parents always remain there…so even when they become old and tired, we should stand by them, because they are the ones who made us…there were so many other nice things she said…there wasn’t one person in class that wasn’t crying when she ended when the bell rang. She had made cards for each and every one of us. Individual cards with different messages for each of us. She made us realize how much we had loved school, how much we had loved her and how much we were going to miss when we got out of that school.

I say I owe everything I am, to that great school, St. Mary’s School, Pune. I also owe the same amount to Mrs. Siraj. She managed to keep me grounded despite my school values that inculcated a somewhat different idea. She made me a more focused person with the will to do something with my life…to make her proud that I am her student.

The year we got out of school, I called her up first to wish her on 5^th September. I called up other teachers too. But, as the years passed the calls reduced, the contacts were lost, and I probably became a long-gone memory in my teachers’ minds. With Mrs. Siraj, that was never the case. I make it a point to call her up every year. It makes my Teachers’ Day complete. It is magical to hear her voice when she says, “Thank you so much!”, in her typical accent J It’s been 6 years now…and 6 phone calls down the line, when I couldn’t wish her on Teacher’s Day, I couldn’t rest. The idea of not wishing her for the rest of my life, in case she had changed her number, was too huge to digest. I sent out messages to all other teachers that I had numbers of, to tell myself that I hadn’t wasted my Teacher’s Day. It wasn’t enough though. I tried the next day too. When she didn’t pick up then too, I had to believe that I had finally lost contact. I’d lost contact with another favourite teacher of mine 2 years after leaving school. This had at least lasted 6 years. A little disappointed, I turned back to studying when I got a phone call from her!! She wanted to know who’s number it was. When I told her it was me, she was delighted. She actually told me that she had been waiting for my call the previous day, because I call her every year J That made me feel so happy!! I could finally wish my favourite teacher on a day that is made for this very reason. Now, I have her cellphone number. She said, “Now you can call me any time and I’ll pick up.” Thank God. Now I won’t lose contact.

A lot of students in BJ gave our HoDs and HoUs roses and bouquets on 5^th. I wondered whether I should have done the same for them too. After all, they are going to take our Vivas in the Univ Exams. It’s always nice to know that you’ve done your bit too. But, then I thought, “Do I really respect all of them?” And my answer was no. Yes, I respect them as teachers. But its not real respect that I feel. It is more the respect that you’re supposed to give people in power. Mrs. Siraj, now that is what respect feels like. No matter what, I know I want to wish her on Teacher’s Day. When that is the kind of respect I have for a teacher, I shall wish them or gift them too.

There is one teacher in college that I respect. That’s Dr. Khadse, the HoD of the Dept. of Paediatrics. That woman is one hell of a person. She is intelligent, loves her work, manages the Department really well, takes an active interest in us UG students and is a disciplinarian too. That is a woman to respect. And, that is a teacher I took blessings from. Whether she remembers me in the future or not, is a different matter. The point is that such people are rare. There was another teacher I really really liked, but she got transferred to another college a few months back. That was my Guide for the Hospital-Acquired Infections seminar – Dr. Mrs. Dube. A very sweet, soft-spoken person who naturally emanated a radiance of joy and freshness wherever she goes. I missed her on 5^th and made sure I got through to her. Lucky for me, she still uses her Pune cellphone number J

Lastly, that teacher I lost contact with. She was my Hindi teacher in school. Mrs. Joshi.  And the very best Hindi Teacher I’ve ever had. My Hindi literally flourished under her guidance. I even got an all-time record marks of 87.5 and 88 out of 100 each in my papers Hindi grammar and Hindi Literature. There was something about her and the way she taught us the subject. There was so much enthusiasm and love for the subject! It just made you want to do well in that subject! I loved her and her personality. I wish she hadn’t moved to Nagpur and from there elsewhere….maybe someday, I shall meet her…till then, its through this blog that I say, Happy Teacher’s Day, Mrs. Joshi. Thank you for making sure that my love for Hindi only grew J

Death

Death has always intrigued me. I wonder what it is like to go on the other of life…but more importantly, it cuts through my heart to see the people that you leave behind…the crying and all can be managed…but the hidden feelings, the pain, the unhappiness felt can’t even be measured.

I have seen relatives crying aloud in groups in the corridors of Sassoon. Initially it was unsettling. But, soon I got used to it. There are things you can’t do anything about. And death is one of them. Yesterday, however, I went back to being unsettled again.

I have wondered for a long time, what I would go through if I lose a patient. A patient under your care surrenders his life to you. That is a huge responsibility. Losing that life would make me so guilty…in fact, a lot of times, I’ve decided on not taking up braches that involve life and death…I don’t think I would be able to live with the thought of not being able to prevent death. Yesterday, the event unfolding before me and my emotions during that time, proved to me that I still haven’t strengthened my mind to face serious situations in the future.

On Friday, a friend and I were examining a patient of Alcoholic Liver Disease. On the bed next to him, was a young patient. He was asleep when his father started to wake him up. He did not wake up…his father slapped his face a few times, but when there wasn’t any response, he went and called the doctor in-charge. They managed to get the patient to wake up. I was a little scared that they might lose the patient, but he was breathing the whole time, so I was sure he was hanging on. Yesterday when the same events repeated, there was no respiratory movement and know response…the patient got an infarction in front of our eyes and the doctors couldn’t do anything to save him. They tried CPR but couldn’t do much…he expired…

The whole time, his father was standing at the side, expressionless. When he was told that his son hadn’t made it, he tried making a few calls. His face looked a bag full of suppressed emotions as he tried to deal with the problem of range for his cellphone. Looking at the way he was walking around and trying to remain calm, I wished he’d had one more person to manage him. After taking the help of the people around him, he managed to let his relatives know, I guess...That done, he sat on his son’s bed. And he just stared at that face. Then, he took his son’s head in his lap and brushed his fingers through his son’s hair. A lot of times.

That was when it happened. There was a change of expression…a glimpse of the actual pain he was going through. He kept staring at that pale face, kept running his fingers through those hair…with speed that showed his intent at wanting to get his son back. It was so painful to watch him like that. Helpless, broken, lost. I wanted to go and give him a hug. I wanted to tell him it was ok to cry and that he should. But, all I could do was stand at a distance.

It hurts so much to think of some person you know, as dead…a friend of mine expired in an accident 4 years back. She wasn’t a very close friend, but the shock and pain I had felt at that time, makes me uncomfortable even today. I still care and still wish she was around with us. If that is what acquaintances feel about the dead, how would the relatives feel? How would parents feel holding their children’s bodies in their hands; the same hands that had held those children when they were born, the same hands that had held their children’s hands as they took their first steps…the dreams, the beautiful pictures painted suddenly come crashing down and all you stare at is that white face. You want to do anything to bring them back, even sacrifice yourself if it would bring them back. But, you just sit there, crying to yourself…trying to move on, but not being able to get rid of those memories.

And this is where I think, should I, as a doctor, be so sentimental about death? This wasn’t even my patient, or a patient I’d talked to. But, I still felt it. Wouldn’t it be worse if a patient under my care lost his battle? Apart from feeling guilty, I would keep thinking about the effects of that death on the rest of his family. This will only increase my own guilt. In my sensitive side’s defence though, I can only say : It takes time to get used to something, or to find a way to get used to it. And where Medicine is concerned, failures are more serious than failures anywhere else.

Food for thought, I guess… 

An Achiever's Strength

I'd love my readers to go through this article.

It reminded me of those two years - 11th and 12th grade. My seniors and their teachers had told me that these are your make-or-break years. You can either conjure up a formula to look at yourself with pride for the rest of your life, or you can make yet another burnt cake and regret it for the rest of life.
Unlike the author of that article, I do not come from a small city. Neither am I cash-strapped in any way. My parents were ready to do whatever it took, pay whatever was required, if it meant that I was going to succeed. Getting into a good college (mainly a Medical School, but Engg wasn't shown a closed door) was a priority, not for the economic security, but for the sense of pride and achievement that came along with it. I wanted to prove that we, Maryite's weren't just snobs without brains who shined in Std 10 and lost all steam in Std 12.
I shall be claiming falsely, if I say that I remember each and every moment of those 2 years. In fact, I have blocked out most of it. But, what I do remember is that, in those two years, I never lost focus and I tried the best I could to get through that CET.
I had a good foundation initially. Scoring a 96% in Std 10 and coming second in the city did a lot to improve my self-esteem. The hurdle was to keep going, not let this achievement get to me...to ensure that this was the first step and that I had to take many more. We decided that I would join a school, instead of a junior college. There would be less distraction, more discipline and less time to waste. My choice was Laxmanrao Apte Prashala. It was a complete contrast from my previous experience of St. Mary's School. In school, I was exposed to a Convent culture...a different method of thinking and doing things...looking at myself as an individual capable to doing things and having a certain amount of attitude about myself. In Junior college, the culture was the exact opposite. The students were very different...their mentality was even upto my level...they could do any amount of backstabbing to get ahead...the teachers preferred to support such things...they gave me s*** load of trouble including stuff like, not giving me books I'd paid for. It was a culture shock to say the least.
That worked to my advantage. I did not have to waste time making friends and carrying out my friendship duties. I did not have the distraction of hot guys walking around. There was just one goal- study. When I topped my 11th grade, I knew I had taken the right steps. This was just the beginning, however. My ultimate goal was to ensure I got into a reputed college (Med or Engg, it didn't really matter).
Std. 12 is an important year for every Indian Student. The system here is such that this year categorises you into a 'topper' or a 'duffer'. Now, of course, we have entrance exams that can be sat for multiple times. But, repeaters are never looked at in the same way as freshers. My 12th Std sucked. College-wise.
Suddenly, the so-called ok college of Std 11 became a nightmare with all the bitching, back-biting, low mentality of students and teachers alike, coming to the forefront. It was a s***hole. And that is exact word.
I think all this really gave me a chance to study on my own. My timetable is those days was so packed, I wonder when I even managed to sleep!! I had three classes and college. Every day. I don't know how I managed it. All I remember is watching the India Tour of Australia 2008-09 around that time. That was my solace. Cricket. It helped me forget everything :-)
My crash course was jam-packed. I had joined two crash courses with a Sunday Test Series at a third place. At times, my entire Sunday went in taking tests at each of these places. A few Sundays were devoted to the Entrance Examinations themselves. My mom says I used to sleep for around 4 hours. I had a class at 5:30am in the morning. From there, it was a long day, every single day of the week....
I'll say this frankly, I never thought about the result of my hard work. In fact, I didn't even think I was working hard enough. Today, looking back I know I worked my ass off. In fact, my Second Year PL hard work is nothing compared to what I did in that entire year. So, I deservedly got my reward. The CET paper almost magically decided to put forth tough Physics questions. I drew a lot of advantage from that. 'Coz the people who were actually good at Physics took more time than usual to solve their papers, and weren't even sure of their answers. I, on the other hand, knew my limits. I just skipped questions I didn't understand. I managed to read my paper twice, something that better-prepared people couldn't manage. Ultimately, I scored. Enough to get me into B.J. Medical College and follow my parents' footsteps.
An achiever's strength is that, whenever he or she looks back, there is always something to fall onto. That something is the evidence of determined, un-distracted, unwavering hard work. You don't just get lucky and succeed. For luck to smile on you, you need to show that you're worth it. You need to work hard enough to get that amount of luck. I know that if I hadn't solved those 20-30 physics sums daily, that paper would never have turned out to be tough for everyone. I'd still have managed my 37 marks out of 50, but everyone else would've got above 40. When I showed that I could put in the hard work to improve my physics, I got some help from the Powers That Be.
Today, 4 years down the line, when I look back, I don't regret anything. I can smile peacefully to myself. Those years are the golden years. They prepared me for what I want to achieve now. The feelings I went through on 14th June, 2008 are undescribable. But, now, at times when I get frustrated and want to just stop all that I'm doing, a walk down the memory lane to that day, pulls me up again. I know I have it me. I have proved things before. I can very well prove them now. That is an achiever. An achiever, who has been the product of those 2 years of determined, focussed and well-supported hard work :-)

When A Patient Said...

Outside of all the frustrations involved in being a Medical student in a GMC, what I really like about this profession, is the respect that certain patients give Doctors. Yes, times have changed. Today, Doctors are no longer considered Gods. Thanks to Mr. Amir Khan and his celebrated coverage of this field, we have managed to unearth some of the evils that are present all around us. That does diminish the nobleness of this field.
Having said that though, the smile on a patient's face after having gotten cured, is the greatest gift a doctor can ever get. Any doctor will vouch for this. And any doctor will tell you, that he strives to attain this very prize.
Yesterday, I took the case of an 86-yr old man. He has undergone a Below-Knee amputation, is not very oriented to his surroundings at times, suffers from Diabetes, has lost quite a bit of weight and overall is very weak. Yet, the smile on his face was evident. The happiness he had got after having undergone that surgery to remove his gangrenous foot, was shining on his face immensely.

"If I can have a sip of water from your hand, my life will be blessed."

As I normally do for all patients, I asked him how he was feeling now. Initially he was a little disoriented. he thought I was one of his relatives. When his daughter told him that I was a doctor, he took hold of my hand and thanked me for having gotten rid of his pain. He said, " If  I can have just a sip of water from your hand, my life will be blessed." Imagine this. An 85-yr old bed-ridden man, older than my grandfather, telling me (young enough to be his granddaughter, or even great-granddaughter) that his life would be blessed if I gave him some water! It should've been the other way round.
It is moments like this that make me realise that I want to do this so much. Yes, final year is horrible, the college sucks quite a bit, the profession is demanding, it is a long obstacle-laden journey. But, during this wonderful journey, there are going to be such moments...when somebody says something...somebody does something...it leaves such an impact. I know that those words are going to echo in my life for a long time. Those words were not meant for me. They were meant for the doctors who actually treated him. But, in a way, they were meant for me, as a doctor. Over the past months, I've struggled to find reasons to want to do all this, to want to still be in this field after my Internship get over in 2014. I've struggled to find love among all my subjects, desire to excel in them and the determination to do the hard work required. I've questioned my intentions a lot of times. When I heard those words though, I knew exactly why I liked this field; why I had taken it up.
I may not recommend the field with 100% gusto. But, I do know that there is a reason why I got into it. When I get into that real world (with the Designation of 'Doctor'), I know exactly what I'm going to strive for. It is that smile and that hope that somewhere some patient of mine will be satisfied enough to say the same thing to another Medical student and show him the light to the path that he was looking for :-)

The First Step : Realisation

I have talked to about 35-40 odd patients in the course of my project. They have all come from various spheres of life. The majority have come from the lower and the middle class. After all, in a tertiary care centre like SGH, this is exactly the kind of patients you get. The experience has been very enriching. I have learnt a lot about the lives of these people.

It is said that Medicine ensures that you remain in contact with your own soul- the soul that understands pain, fear, joy, love, anger, frustration and every other emotion that we have to deal with. The human touch remains. You come to know about the kind of problems that people have to deal with. The Common Man is still common. He still has to face the regular stress and strains of life. The patients who come to Sassoon, have to catch buses early in the morning to get here, have to wait here in line to get their case papers made, have to run around in all directions to go the one place they need to get to. We, doctors, add onto their troubles by not spending enough time with them, acting as if they are not important to us. Aged patients come to get their monthly or weekly medications. Instead of treating them with the respect that is their due, the Residents scream loudly at them because they can’t hear properly. Is it their fault that age has finally got to them? Patients are considered to be our God. We, as doctors, learn from them. We need to behave properly with them. There was a time when patients were given decent care. That has suddenly changed in the past few years. The dearth of doctors at Government institutes and the politics has led to the decline of humanity in this noble field.

Do you know what most of these patients have told me? They have given me their blessings, simply for spending 20 minutes talking to them; for touching them, examining them; for doing small things like measuring their height and weight. They say it feels satisfying that a doctor at least talks to them. Most of the doctors just come, write in their files and go. There is no patient-doctor communication. We are taught about the Doctor-Patient relationship in PSM (we even have a question on it in our examinations). There doesn’t seem to be any relationship in SGH today. I was so surprised the first time I heard a patient say these things to me. When a number of patients told me the same thing thereafter, I realised that there, indeed, is something lacking in today’s students.

In our first clinical posting, we are taught the importance of History-Taking. We are taught the individual importance of the Name of patient, his age, sex, address, occupation, etc. Along with this, we are also told that we need to talk to the patient. Talk, not just about his symptoms, but also about his feelings, his thoughts, his needs…all this to just create a rapport. ‘A patient needs to feel comfortable with his doctor’ is a line repeated a lot of times in that first posting. It is seldom remembered later on. Students become very busy trying to extract the symptoms and signs that they know of, from the patient. He doesn’t remain human anymore. He becomes an object of interest. An object to use when required and throw away when finished.

Today, I met a patient who’s case I had taken about 10 days  back. I had liked her a lot at that time. She was happy, friendly, chatty. It was a delight to examine her. She told me that she had to have an angiography done, for which she would probably be re-admitted. She seemed amused by the fact that her Diabetes had gotten her into the hospital. That was then. Today, she was a whole different person altogether! Her appointment yesterday had been cancelled because none of her relatives had been able to come. She had been told to stay Nil By Mouth today, because the Angiography could take place today. The nurse had told her that if no relative came today, her appointment would have to be cancelled again. She was on the verge of tears, this lady. She wanted to go and get her angiography done all by herself. “What is the need of relatives?”, she asked me exasperatedly. I tried to explain that in case anything happened to her in during the procedure, somebody should be around. “If I die, let them just throw me in a corner! I don’t mind that. I just want to get this done. None of my relatives are coming. I had told them, but nobody has come yet…” and she started crying. It was heart-wrenching. I tried to calm her down by telling her that things would get better….that I’d talk to the people concerned and see what could be done…that she shouldn’t just lose hope. She took my hand and kissed it. That is all that she had needed. She had just needed a little bit of talking. She had needed somebody to just stand there and talk.

I haven’t stopped thinking about the whole case. What are we turning into? We all need a little bit of love and care. It may not be possible to give the best care in SGH. But, it is a hospital for heaven’s sake! The patients here should at least be given the basic care that they all require. It is tough being a Resident, I understand. They have to study, look after patients, keep a tab on the whims and fancies of their guides and manage to get some sleep too. But, I think, as doctors, it should be a part of their case-taking to just spend a few minutes with each patient and ask about their problems. Or just spend a few minutes talking to the patient about random things. That is all.

If there is one thing I have learnt from my experience as a student in Sassoon, it is humanity and consideration for others. I have had a good childhood. I was given everything I asked for. My parents put me into a great school, allowed me to go for parties, took me on holidays and did everything possible to ensure that I have a bright future. Somewhere deep inside, I know they had to take a lot of trouble raising me and my brother. They have managed to rise out of nothing to something. I was always aware of that. Yet, they ensured that I did not have any difficulty in living my life the way I wanted to. But, not all people, in this world, are like me. There are people who grow up in difficult situations and stay in such situations all their lives. There are people for whom a 10 rupee bus ticket is expensive…people who have to fight over water and bathing facilities every morning…people who live on a single meal daily. These people need the same, if not better, treatment than a person like me, if they end up in the hospital. They require that consideration and love that a Doctor is supposed to show. I have learnt to show this consideration. I have learnt that we are supposed to heal the wounds of the patients, and alongside, heal the wounded soul of the patient too. It is our duty to ensure that every patient discharged from under our care, goes home, a better person. It is my duty that when I finish my interaction with a patient, he feels healed mentally. I may not be able to do anything to reduce the pain or other symptoms of the patient. I should, however, be able to make a difference to the mental state of the patient- make him satisfied that he has been examined…assure him that he will get better.

Today, I felt the whole purpose of this field was put in front of me, in the form of those tears. My parents keep talking about patients being thankful to them for saving their lives. I never understood the real meaning of that line. Today, I think I did. I felt the hurt of that patient. I know that if her angiography has been done today, tomorrow, I shall feel the happiness too. I’ll know that she won’t be shedding more tears and will be happier. Isn’t that the ultimate aim of a Doctor? Cure the patient physically, mentally and socially?

Jill, I think you took an important step today…you saw yourself as a doctor who shall look after her patients with proper care. There shall be just a few more steps and you will reach that goal – A Good Doctor :-)

Reflection

I’m not a social person. I have very strict ideas about the kind of parties I like and the kind I don’t. I have my own circle of close friends whom I regularly meet. We talk a LOT and catch up on each other’s lives. There is no drinking involved, no needless gossip, no dressing up…just some good old friends having a good time, laughing and sharing their desires and thoughts.

I met a couple of my school friends day before yesterday for dinner. They are both doing Engineering. One of them has a dual degree with Economics, and the other has a dual degree with Biology. So, practically speaking, each of us is in our own world professionally. They say, don’t they, the grass is always greener on the other side. However, having conversations with them, has made me wonder whether it is really worth it to do what I am doing.

Frankly speaking, the only reason I decided that Medicine was my field was because I sucked at Physics and Mathematics decided to abandon me during the year I needed it the most. By mid-12^th grade, my prophecy from 10^th grade (I want to do Chemical Engineering from IIT Powai) had all but eaten dust. My strength was Chemistry and Biology. I decided to do the practical thing, choose the lesser of the two evils. Instead of forcing myself to succeed in two subjects I sucked at (Physics and Maths), I forced myself to manage just Physics and enjoy Chemistry and Biology. I ended up making the right decision, since I got into BJMC in my first attempt itself, in the first round itself. I could not have asked for more.

Today, however, I wonder whether I have done what I had thought I would do as a medical student or not? I wonder whether it really is worth it to put in as much of effort and pressure as we do. Medicine is a tough choice for a profession. You need to have the push and the desire to give. You need to feel that insane urge to serve people. You need to feel that you just have to make your patients ok. I agree that in the past 3.5 years, I have formed an idea of what I will be doing in the future. I do want to give back to people. I want to make this world a better place. I just wonder why it is so difficult to want to do such things.

Final year is supposed to be crazy. It is crazy. It hasn’t treated me very well either. I am not particularly enjoying it. But, even then, I’m not a sulky sort of person. I love myself and life too much to really sulk about it. The fact that I am sulking about this year, means there is something wrong. Maybe I am taking that project too much to heart. But, even then, the rest of the year isn’t all that great.

I am wondering today whether I really want to get out into the world and treat patients. Do I really want to put myself through all the torture that being a doctor brings with itself? This year will get over. Then there shall be the internship, the PG entrance, the residency, the super-specialisation, the start of my private practice. I’m already tired thinking about it. On the other hand, my friends are excited about their internships and have nothing to really worry about. Work from Monday-Friday…weekends off…a good pay…their life is pretty much set.

I’m just a little disillusioned, I guess, by the working of my college and our lives as medical students. I know I am being extreme in my reaction…but life could be so much better for us, even with all the studying. Lectures, teachers, patients…it all sounds so interesting from an onlooker’s point of view. I wish it were really the case…

Any way, I think I’ll get over this feeling soon…it was pretty refreshing to get out of college life and meet up with my friends. It is such a blessing when your friends are from different fields. You can just lock out all your frustrations and sorrows and have a great time with them. You talk about different things, reminisce about old times…you end up bringing back some spice into your life…and that is all I really need J

A Letter

Dear Mom,

I want to say all this to your face, but the sensitive little coward that I am, I’ll probably just end up crying and not say anything at all. Maybe someday, I will pluck the courage to say all these things standing in front of you.

You are my Hero, Mom. There is a long list of things that I have learnt from you- by just watching you everyday. What has left an impact on me most, is how you fight against all the odds and still mange to emerge victorious.  Life isn’t easy, is it? But, you have managed to make me realize that one can work through this difficult maze and come out to rejoice.

You gave birth to me 21 years ago. I was the first child, so I just hope I didn’t give you much trouble coming out. If I did, I’m really sorry. I don’t remember the first few years of my life, mom, but I know from the stories told, that you were always there. God knows how tough it must have been to study and look after a baby at the same time. You did it though, and looking at myself today, I know you did a great job. I don’t remember what my first words were, or where and when I took my first steps. I do know this, mom, that the day I said, “Aai”, was a momentous one for you, and for me too.

My childhood is scattered with lots of great memories. I particularly remember the time I was seven. I had suddenly gotten into the phase, when I used to miss you in school, and would end up crying a lot. It went to such an extent, that you had to give me a photo of yours. You told me that every time I missed you, I should just look at that photo and you would be there, right next to me. I don’t think I ever told you this, Mom, but looking at that picture made me cry even more.

When I was eight, our class had been punished and we were spanked. You had been there for me at that time. You, along with our class teacher and a few other parents, had protested against this incident. You may not consider it that important, but it left a mark on me.

Throughout my childhood, there were times when you were busy; times when you went away for training. I did not really miss you at those times, simply because I knew you were doing for us, and that when I needed you, you would always be there for me. When you went for that GSE exchange program, I was just nine. I wasn’t in the mental state to express how I felt. Today, I look back and I feel such pride watching you go. You had achieved something truly outstanding, and my chest was bursting with joy and pride that you were MY mom.

Teenage is supposed to give mothers a lot of headache. I think I gave you some headache too. I do hope I didn’t give you too much of headache, though. I think, somewhere, deep inside, I always knew what you were trying to tell me during those conversations we had. I knew what you were telling me was right. I may have disagreed with you on the surface, but I always ended up agreeing with you subconsciously. When I got into Std 12, you decided to take some matters into your hand, and look into my studies for the entrance exams. You know, mom, I’m glad you did.

You might say that I am very logical and clear in the head, but at that time, I wasn’t. I needed somebody to listen to me, and take some decisions for me. You did that, and I really thank you for it all. After that CET examination, I knew maybe I had failed you somewhere. If I had taken efforts, you had taken double those efforts. The end result did not reflect that, and I was a little disappointed on that fateful day (8^th May, 2008). When I told you that getting a score worth BJMC was out of question, I did not like the look on your face. The disappointment was evident. I wish I had done more. The merit list, however, had different plans. That wonderful day, when I got into BJMC (18^th July, 2008), those tears in your eyes- I felt so happy for being able to give you those tears of joy. As a daughter, I believe that my ultimate goal in life is to make you happy. That day, I had fulfilled that goal. I was proud of it. Even today, I am.

You have been my solid support always. You and Dad have always had my back. It is something special, to know that I have such a wonderful mother, waiting for me, urging me to great things.  In fits of anger, you may call yourself a lot of ugly things, but the truth is, you are an awesome mother. You lead by example. There is nothing more special than to see you up on stage, receiving prizes for your achievements. There is nothing more inspiring to see you work against all sorts of odds, to watch you fight against injustice done to you. You are a dynamite, and to see you in the red of your spirit is just incredible.

It hurts to see you upset or in pain, Mom. If there is anything that I can’t stand, it is a tear in your eyes or a wrinkle of tension on your forehead. I want you to be happy and at peace all your life. I’ll do anything to make sure that happens. At times, I feel so helpless when I just have to stand in the background watching you manage your troubles. I want to help you, Mom, and it hurts that I can’t. You have dealt with a lot in your life. Despite that, I hope you have been happy. I just wish, now that I have grown up, I can be that shield that will protect you from any further trouble.

I want you to share your troubles with me, Mom. It always helps when you talk. If you can calm me down, I sure can try to do the same. I’ll do anything I can, to never see you unhappy, to never see a tear. You are precious, Mom. I’m nothing without you. You and Dad are my whole life, and I can’t see you two upset or unhappy about anything.

You are the most wonderful gift God had given me. I love watching you smile, love watching you sing and dance. When you smile, the whole room brightens up. When you calm me down, I know nothing in the world will trouble me. When you give me that Mom’s hug, I become that small child again, who just wants to sit by you forever.

You are the bestest Mom in the Universe. I hope I can be a good daughter to you all my life.
Love you loads, Mom. Thank you for always being there. You are the foundation of my life. There is nothing I can’t do, with you supporting me.

Love you Mom,

Jill

Reality

I just have to write. I have my Paediatrics term end tomorrow, so ideally, I should be studying. However, out of curiosity, I went through my last post and the urge to write erupted through me. The past two-three weeks have been such huge reality checks. I think I have almost hit rock-bottom, but somehow, managed to wriggle out with something to cherish.
I remember writing a month back that my ICMR Selection list was out, and that my project had been selected. I wrote a lot of reasons why I decided I would not do the project. However, a little coaxing from my mother ( she showed the wonderful things I would get if I had this project under my belt.) and I decided that I would do the project. The more-than-just-happy approval from my Guide gave me all the more reason to go ahead with it. Neither of them told me what I was in for, though.
Everyone says the first few days of any project are hard. You are somehow just getting into the rhythm, trying to work out some kind of schedule, arranging and rearranging your work, meeting the concerned people. Lots of things just tend to happen together. You end up hating those first few days. I went through just more than hating them. Being a student at a Government Medical College, I should have realised this a long time back - You can never walk straight in here. You just HAVE to take turns to reach something that can resemble a destination. My Guide told me that doing the Lipid Profiles of patients would be a very easy thing to do. That has ended up being the most dreadful thing to do. It takes quite an effort to coax patients into talking to you. An even bigger effort is required to bring these very people to you the next morning to take the blood samples. Add to that, the fact that Lipid Profiles are NOT done regularly in our hospital, got me freaked out majorly. I now also had to provide the kit to do the test. Still, it was ok. I went to the Diabetic OPD on Day 1 of my project, and managed to take some cases. Next, I had to go and tell the Lab Director that the kit would arrive there soon. When I told him that, he dropped the next bombshell - " I don't have the manpower to do the tests. You'll have to do them yourself. I'll teach you." That was it! I have my term exams coming up in June, and now I have to perform Lipid profile testing of patients!
I am going to take a few words here to talk about my temperament. I'm cool. I get nervous before an exam or a Viva. I just talk to myself at that time, say stuff like, "You're being stupid! You've studied. It is going to go great. Come on, be yourself!", and go back to being cool again. I don't freak out. I don't stop eating or lose sleep or dream of scary scenarios related to anything. I'm just not that kind of a person. I switch on and off pretty easily.
Those two days, I did exactly the opposite of what I've written above. I kept thinking about the project, the time that was going to be wasted, the patients whose blood I would have to take, the ignorance of my Guide for having put me through all this (although the Lipids may have been the reason why the project got selected in the first place), the sadistic happiness that the Director was getting (again, although, he might have been telling me the truth), my term end exams, my univ exams (yes, I went to the extent of planning out my schedule for the repeat year). I stopped eating, I couldn't sleep. I became an insomniac within a day!
Being who I am, I couldn't share this with anybody. My Mom, bless her soul, saw right through me, and gave me a boost up the next morning. The fact that two patients came that day, and I could finally say that I had started my project, made me a little settled.
Since then, however, I've been trying to find the right rhythm. The insomnia has sort of remained. I still get up  at 5 in the morning and manage to study a little. Going to the Diabetic OPD is something I have come to dread. The compliance of patients is 50%, so now, I've decided not to go there at all. I'll just hunt down patients in the wards. That way, the irritating bug (Wednesday Diabetic OPD awaits you. HAHAHA!!!!) that keeps haunting me all through the week, will disappear. I am trying to just divide my day into parts. 8-9:30 am will be dedicated to looking for cases. Thereafter, posting. The afternoon onward will be my study time. Exams are coming up next month, and I need to score. That means I need to study, HARD.
I do panic. There are loads of moments. But, I'm trying to manage. Journals have added to the tension. The to-do list never seems to reduce! My brother (in the 12th grade now) had his entrance exams. My Mom had gotten really nervous. I sat with her throughout the day for company. During that time, I finished writing two journals. The trick is always multi-tasking. I have never been good at it. I've chosen an awful time to learn it, but I can give it a shot, right?
Right now, everything else in on the back burner. I had had the idea of applying to a few universities abroad for some courses after my Univ exams. I've decided to chuck those plans. There is no way I can do everything and succeed in it all. I got past the IDS, that is enough. Now I'm just going to concentrate on my studies and the project. I can't wait for the Surgery posting to begin. I can almost feel the fresh rejuvenation already :-)
Life sucks. A lot. Having to deal with so many people now, I've realised that. It isn't all rosy, this growing up. When you are a medical student in the GMC, the word doesn't even fit into your dictionary of life. I have gotten really low over the past few weeks. There were times, when I thought I should to take some medication to shut out the many thoughts swimming around at Olympic-record time in my head, so that I could concentrate on a single one. But, I got past all that, and am still standing ok. Yeah, I lost weight, and the radiance of my face (according to my Mom). Point is, I got through it. I still dread going to hunt for cases, but I still manage to end up doing it all. I'm far back in my studies, but i know and hope I can do it in time. I'm shit scared and nervous about the next month, but I can still smile and crack jokes right now.
This is reality- not easy, but easy enough to give you a chance to make it so :-)
Best of luck for Paeds, Jill!! Do well :-)      

Good Job!!

I won the TB Quiz held on account of World Tuberculosis Day (24th March)!! I'd paired up with a friend of mine and we won!! I got my first trophy from BJ Medical College :-) We topped the elimination round and then won by a comfortable 20 points :-) Our score was 65 and the team, that came 2nd, got 45. I felt so freaking AWESOME!!
I'd been telling myself I should've studied a little more. That thought became even more loud when I saw the number of teams participating. You may want to call me a little dumb here, but I really believe that there a few people who are better off than I am, when it comes to MCQs and one line answers. Fact is, I really believe that whatever I have scored academically, has been on the basis of my neat paper- writing and diagrams. I don't figure much when it comes to odd things you need to know for Quizzes. So, my friend and I saw the people who'd arrived and we told ourselves that we didn't really have a chance. We were going to do this for the heck of it.
The people who know me, will understand when I say, I can't go unprepared for anything where there is supposed to be a competition. So, I did read up Microbiology and PSM, but it was nowhere close to what I'd expected myself to manage in the past week. We were prepared to watch the other teams take centre-stage. Going through the elimination paper, I knew we stood a chance. But, you can never hope for too much. We knew we'd made mistakes, especially after the answers were discussed. It was, therefore, a major surprise to hear that we had topped the Elimination :-)) I was delighted because that meant I got a certificate (I have an obsession for them...they are going to help me in the future, strengthen my CV, so I am obsessed with them).
The Quiz rounds were pretty ok. We were team C, and unfortunately, we had a lot of statistical questions regarding TB. I can proudly say though, my logic and my love Micro and Patho, got us through. I could answer a lot of questions. That was very comforting :-)
The best part was yet to come though. The rapid fire round has always gotten me a little nervous. It is a make or break round in a quiz. This time, however, it was a Make round for us. We answered the maximum number of questions correctly (5/10), compared to the rest of the teams, and we won!! After the announcement of the scores, they brought out trophies!! Now that was the best part. I had won a trophy! Since I'm a big sports fan, winning a trophy is like the ultimate winning for me. I have grown up watching the Pontings and Nadals lift those trophies...I've always wished I could do the same. This time, I've gotten the opportunity :-)) Yay!!
I just have to take this moment and say, "I ROCK!!" Things have been going well. Our Islet Cell Transplantation Symposium will be on Saturday. As much as I love what we have done, I'm just concerned about the certificate. It is a busy week... We also have a Surgery Term-end on Saturday. Add on the Medicine posting...We're given threats of been thrown back into the Unit we were supposed to be posted in, initially, if we don't do serious studying. Really!! Times have changed..It's not like we aren't interested. Sometimes, you gotta understand that although there is interest, there isn't enough material. Tomorrow, possibly, Kadam Sir would be taking a clinic. I can only cross my fingers and hope it goes well...
Apart for studying, we also have to deal with ego issues of the concerned teachers. The life of a Medical Student is worth making a film on. There is everything...it almost prepares you for everything you may have to deal with later in life - buttering people up, saving people's lives, running after people for ages to get your work done, taking the hard way, taking a shortcut, deal with heartaches and excessive happiness...everything...phew!! I'll just go back to reminiscing that wonderful Quiz on Monday...:-))

Remember Me??

Yes, it has been a while...a long long 'while'..and no matter how long a post I write, it just won't make up for the time I haven't written anything.
But, today, I got a very special request from a friend of mine. She is my greatest friend in college, and we somehow end up doing the same kind of things. We also like the same kind of things too. She told me yesterday that she was going to start a blog, and read up a few entries from here, today. She messaged me, " Continue writing. Please :-)''
I felt so NICE. Its just the word to describe the feeling. It isn't I-want-to-dance joy, and definitely not i-want-to-scream-to-the-world happiness. Its that calm positive feeling you get when somebody pats you on your shoulder and says, "Good work"...when you look at that beautiful morning and know you're happy to be alive...when that dark starry sky tells you time can stop and you can stare at it :-)
There you go, now i so feel like writing. So many things that I want to write about- college, PSM (it will always have that very 'special place in my life :-p), books I've read, thoughts that keep haunting me in between my study time, friends, life events...so much!!
But, I don't have that kind of time, and I still want to honour my friend's request, so I'll just say a big thank you to 2011.

Dear 2011,
Yes, you haven't been an easy year. As is always the case, you haven't been an easy ride full of smiles. There have been tears- of joy, of sadness, of anger, of hatred. But, you have made me think for myself and given me a treasure-trove of experiences that make me the person that I am today. And, yes, I am a better person than I was a year back.  
Professionally, I did a lot things this year, and I am so proud of having done each and every one of them. They gave me a sense of achievement and a self-confidence in my abilities. I know I haven't been able to match up to my expectations when it came down to studying from the exam point of view. But, I do know that I have enjoyed learning new things this year, and that will always be there for me, wherever and whenever  I need it.
Personally, I still feel like the same person. I think I have grown a little more mature, but I will never ever let the kid in me go away. It is nice when you know that you have this little kid to fall back on, to give you tiny microscopic moments of happiness :-) I think I have grown to control my temper a little. I may still be short-tempered, but the temper doesn't reach the peak it used to. And I have been able to place excellent arguments for my temper, so that means my minds works great even when I'm angry (which is an achievement :-P).
There are times when you have been very harsh, 2011. Times when I didn't know why things were happening the way they were. Times when I wondered what had suddenly gone wrong in the planetary system that I was facing such situations. But, you pulled me out of them. I stand here today, with my back to them. Memories live, but, hey, you did a pretty good job of pulling me out.
Thank you 2011. For being a normal year. For giving me love and hatred...for giving me joy and unhappiness..for making me feel special and small...for giving me success and failure...most importantly, for bringing me closer to some very special people in my life. I don't know what I'll do without you guys...you guys are my solid rock - this is to my whole family and all my friends..love you guys :-)
You are a dear year to me. I have learnt to appreciate every single moment in my life. And I shall always look back at you and hope that every time you shall say to me, "REMEMBER ME??"

Love,
Jill

Wow, that sounds like a thank-you speech you get to hear at a life-time achievement award ceremony!! :-P Unlike you, my dear Jill :-)
Any way, this post is obviously dedicated to my friend and her kind request. There you go, girl. You better read this :-)
p.s. It is so nice to feel the desire to write again!! I was starting to feel so lost. After all, words are my strength. Without them, life is meaningless. And its good to be back!! :-) 

An Interesting Week

I haven't been able to get a lot of time all week, to write about all the stuff that has been happening around college. So I'll start right away.
This may sound a little strange, but BJ does not have its own convocation ceremony. I didn't think much about it either, when I first heard about it. But the more I think about the amount of years and days we spend here, the amount of LIFE that we learn and live here, it does seem a poor way of celebrating an amazing 6 years of life, without a convocation ceremony. Mom and Dad said that, they didn't really think about all that when they finished with their course. It seems that there is a huge convocation ceremony at the MUHS, and the certificates are just handed over by post to students here.
Any way, the current batch of interns ( Batch of 2003) decided that they did want a convocation of their own, and wanted to do it all in a grand way. We had auditions for the organising committee, and I'm very happy that I made it into the committee. I'm in the Anchoring committee. For the moment we don't have anything to do as such, due to lack of information. So we're handling the invitation designing. Over all, I'm really excited about it all. This experience is different and , the output of it all, should be very satisfactory. We've had about 2 complete committee meetings, and two sub-committee meetings, and they have been learining experiences all the way. The convocation will be held on the 7th of March.
Apart from the convocation, the Firodiya is being talked about a lot. It is an inter-collegiate art competition. And by Art, I mean Art as in a play, songs, dance, music, fine arts, painting... the entire package. The guys are all deep into practice, and none of have seen a full-stretch of the play yet. We keep our fingers crossed any way.
BJ also won the first prize in an Inter-Collegiate Band Competition, held at Symbiosis day before. It is supposed to be of a good standard, this competition, and our band's lead singer was a first year batch-mate of ours. So obviously, we're a very proud batch, currently.
Yesterday, we finished with the Anatomy Seminar too. I didn't end up participating, but one of my really close friends did our poster. Prabhjot got a special mention for it, and we can't be more proud of her. She's given herself a hell of a nervous night, and the rest of us , some nervous days too. The seminar was more of a celebration of sorts. After finishing with the posters and presentations, we had a cultural program of a kind. It was refreshing to look at the Anatomy department dressed up and really happy for a change. All the participants did really well. Shreya and Mohini from my group of friends got the 3rd and consolation prizes respectively.
The week has been an interesting one, as the title of the entry suggests. I'm hoping that the next week is great too. Two weeks of continuous 6 days of college are pretty draining, so we're all looking forward to the second Saturday of this month, coming up next week. For students in BJ, this Saturday will be more important as a Holiday than anything else!!

Positive Vibes

Thats what I'm emitting today, according to a very close friend of mine, whom I met today. Interesting.....the positive vibes thing. And a little strange too. I have never looked at myself in that way....you know, the image that I portray of myself. Its very strange when somebody just tells you a hundred times that not only are you looking good, but you're also radiating something that is .., well, positivity!
I've been thinking about it a lot, and I guess the answer lies in the fact that life couldn't have been better for me; I have an amazing college, will definitely become a doctor, have an amazing trip of the USA coming up from Monday, have great friends, have an amazing family, have been blessed with more that I could ask for, have a great football club going great guns.......What more do I want to ask for??
And thats just it. I've always been a lover of life, one who would hold onto dear life for whatever its worth, simply because I consider the one gift that is more than anything else in this universe. So I just look at life the way it is and am happy the way it is presented to me. At the end of the day, the fact that you had that day for you is more important than how you spent it. And thats what I value. I couldn't care less about whether my day was bad or good, whether I managed to do all I had to or not, at the end of the day. I'm just thankful for the day and the opportunuties that it gave me or didn't give me. I'm alive and thats more important.
My principle of life has never failed me. I've come to terms with everything and anything. I'm just happy with what I have, and I guess today, the happiness of meeting an old friend translated on my face as Positive Vibes. She said that I've changed and for the better. The fact is, I know that. And I'm very thankful for that. Love Life. Thanks pal, for making me realise this. This entry is for you.