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#SaveTheSaviours

This goes out to everyone who has conveniently and shamelessly remained silent on the recent attacks on Junior Doctors/Interns in West Bengal.

3 days ago, an 82 year old man suffered a Heart Attack and presented to NRS Medical College & Hospital, Kolkata [State Capital of West Bengal]. He may as well have other medical conditions that come with age. The doctors on duty in the Emergency Department started the required treatment but unfortunately the patient could not make it.

Now, does this incident sound so devastating that a group of people [allegedly 200] manhandle the Emergency Staff and physically assault an Intern on duty that day?

Read the report here.

Dr. Paribhaha Mukherjee did just one thing wrong. And what is that? Be on duty in Emergency in a Government Hospital of India. You don’t expect that your work will get you killed or make you suffer from life threatening injuries because Medicine is a noble profession. Therefore, even if you get killed in the process saving someone or are attacked by angry relatives, do not complain.

I say it again, do not complain. When you signed up for this job, when you stepped into a medical college and took your oath, you were bound to be forever subservient to:-

  • The System
  • Your Seniors
  • Patients
  • Their absolutely loving and caring attendants

You said Yes! You committed to this non yielding, abusive, torturous relationship and now, you have the audacity to complain and more so- dare to demand basic human rights? Seriously? Who are you?

  • An Intern who just completed 4.5 years of MBBS and are now learning patient care? Along with working as a clerk, filling up forms, making discharge summaries, charting vitals, doing ward rounds, attending to totally ridiculous requests [Read orders] by patients such as “My kid vomited on the pillow, change the pillow cover and give us a new bedsheet as well”. Right away, ma’am. Right Away.
  • A Resident in the Labour Room who has not slept in 24 hours but needs to be locked in a closet to save her own life, because a female baby was born? I guess, that’s okay. I am bringing a new life into the world, this is a part of the job.
  • A Doctor-on-Duty in Emergency who attends to all sorts of patients who present with a stomach ache to a Myocardial Infarction and gets yelled upon, pressurised, physically assaulted by the relatives/attendants because they did not think you were giving the right treatment or the patient dies? Deal with your own shit. This is not anyone’s problem.
  • A Consultant who has spent more time in the Hospital [Read Dead House] than their own homes, could not attend their kid’s school play or Parent-Teachers’ Meeting because the OPD was hectic, provide fee waivers to old patients, give away free medicine samples to patients who cannot afford them? Umm… Hello? But what about your counterparts who give the costliest treatment and charge double the fee and loot patients?

For every Doctor that takes his/her patients for a ride, there’re a hundred others who think about how to help their patients better in their free time. And I am not even bragging.

Death is inevitable. You cannot avoid it, how badly you may want to. We, as Doctors cannot prevent every patient from dying. But that does not mean that we do not try to the best of our abilities and knowledge.

Your relatives will die, you will die. We too, will die. Or perhaps brutally murdered by you because we were on-duty and doing our jobs and maybe, going beyond it.

Uncategorized

Not a Cinderella Story

This is not a cinderella story

Neither do I want it to be

For I do not need to be saved

By a Knight in the shining armour

Whose valour has never been tested

I do not want to be rescued

From the realities of the world

Only to be teleported to a fairytale land

I need not be protected

From the storms that may

Take away everything I have

I hear no violins

When you look at me

Sparks don’t fly

I feel no butterflies in my stomach

But a roar

A voice, loud enough

Like when you scream at the rooftops

In an attempt to be heard

Because this is not where I belong

Or ever did

I try to tell my tale in different ways

Paint myself on different days

However, the words trail off

And the colours are not bright

I struggle to make my own outline

For you can’t really see the sunshine

When it is cloudy inside

Tired I am

Of the unnecessary hellos

And forced smiles

Half hearted greetings

Disrespectful salutations

That is not what I am here

To be

Why should my story be conventional?

When I don’t really read popular fiction

Perhaps it is time

Time to draw the battle plans

And bleed those broken promises out

Sing new songs

The world does not know the words of

Dance, with music

Or without, who cares?

Let my madness lead me

For the voices can’t be tamed

And I can’t be chiseled

To fit in a world with similar blocks

Kisses in the pouring rain

Shy glances when the eyes meet

Are not for me

For when I look at the stars

It is not romantic

It is the destiny

I dream to carve for myself

I do not look for pretty lanes

To get lost with you

My sunsets are purple

Craving, not for some warmth

But a violent passion

The roars can now be heard

And I am veering out of the line

To cause mayhem?

Perhaps

This is not a cinderella story

Neither do I want it to beThis is not a cinderella story

Neither do I want it to be

For I do not need to be saved

By a Knight in the shining armour

Whose valour has never been tested

I do not want to be rescued

From the realities of the world

Only to be teleported to a fairytale land

I need not be protected

From the storms that may

Take away everything I have

I hear no violins

When you look at me

Sparks don’t fly

I feel no butterflies in my stomach

But a roar

A voice, loud enough

Like when you scream at the rooftops

In an attempt to be heard

Because this is not where I belong

Or ever did

I try to tell my tale in different ways

Paint myself on different days

However, the words trail off

And the colours are not bright

I struggle to make my own outline

For you can’t really see the sunshine

When it is cloudy inside

Tired I am

Of the unnecessary hellos

And forced smiles

Half hearted greetings

Disrespectful salutations

That is not what I am here

To be

Why should my story be conventional?

When I don’t really read popular fiction

Perhaps it is time

Time to draw the battle plans

And bleed those broken promises out

Sing new songs

The world does not know the words of

Dance, with music

Or without, who cares?

Let my madness lead me

For the voices can’t be tamed

And I can’t be chiseled

To fit in a world with similar blocks

Kisses in the pouring rain

Shy glances when the eyes meet

Are not for me

For when I look at the stars

It is not romantic

It is the destiny

I dream to carve for myself

I do not look for pretty lanes

To get lost with you

My sunsets are purple

Craving, not for some warmth

But a violent passion

The roars can now be heard

And I am veering out of the line

To cause mayhem?

Perhaps

This is not a cinderella story

Neither do I want it to be

Poems, Verses

Pretty Please

Men will be men
Privileged, unabashed
Disillusioned, I say
Who think they have a right
Right to not listen to a ‘NO’
They feign not to see
Because we are just playing hard to get
Ain’t we?
And you know better
Better than us that we want it
Which makes you a victim
Of the monstrous temptresses
That we are
Cock-tease, I heard?

But what if we say ‘YES’
Would that go down your throat well?
You’ll make us walk the hall of shame
Call us sluts for exercising our choice
Sex as an emotional expression?
Ssh… Don’t say such things
Pride yourself of your purity
Which comes with an aging virginity
You have to
There’s no choice
You have to care about
What people will think
Because the hymen
Is a precious jewel
And we are doomed to be
Forever subservient
To two different chromosomes

An X and a Y
Bestowed some with much power
A cock-tease when we refuse what they want
And a slut
When we do what they want, willingly
Our choice is the issue
You do not resonate with
Because we owe you…
What exactly?
Men will be men
Privileged, unabashed
And women?
Exhausted, angry, bitter
Jaded as hell
But hey? Smile and act properly
No, don’t spread your legs
Say thank you’s and please

Oh! Please.

Uncategorized

Welcome! The Introduction

Hello and welcome to my new journey on WordPress here. I am Megha Bhargava- one of the odd 40,000 Medical Interns in India, writing from the National Capital which burns at an excruciating 44 degree Celsius [Can I have some water, please?].

*gulps down thirstily*

A lot of students [more like- their parents] dream to be a Doctor someday. Donning the white apron, a stethoscope around your neck, a fancy pen with your name engraved on it with the much coveted prefix- DR. As we grow older, TV shows like Grey’s Anatomy, House MD fill our minds with false notions about how absolutely glamorous this job is. Don’t get me wrong, it sure is. But, it is much more complicated than resolving relationship troubles with your McDreamy.

giphy

I announced to almost everyone I knew at the tender age of Four that I’d be a doctor when I grew up [Ah! Kids]. Why? Because I thought doctors had some secret unlimited supply of candies and chocolates. Whenever I used to catch a cold [which was every third week], my father would take me to this plump red faced man called Dr. Ahluwalia [who looked like Ruskin Bond, now that I think of it]. He’d prescribe a sugary syrup and open his magical drawer to give me a candy. And I, would beam with joy.

original

I did realise that the Unlimited Candy Supply was a false trap as I grew older. Much to my surprise, Dr. Ahluwalia was no Willy Wonka. And it took a lot of blood and sweat to crack the Pre-Medical Exam, clear the Annual Examination and be where I am today. An Intern [cum nurse-cum janitor-cum peon-cum clerk].

The 5.5 years of MBBS- the Indian Medical Degree is filled with stories and incidences that can bring about a smile on your face when you’re low. It also, is frustrating enough to discourage future aspirants from pursuing Medical Science. But, I love this shit.

This blog will be a reflection of my 5 years in Medicine [and the next 6 months left] along with occasional surprises of the blank verses that I write every now and then. So, lo and behold and witness this Doctor in the making. I solemnly swear that I am up to all good [else I’ll be jailed for Medical Malpractice].