THE PONDERING PEDIATRICIAN

TB or not TB, that’s the question! March 24 th , observed as World Tuberculosis (TB) Day, commemorates the day in 1882 when Dr. Robert Koch announced the discovery of the miscreant responsible for colossal damage across centuries – a microscopic organism called Mycobacterium tuberculosis . This year, the day unleashed a volley of memories, which I thought were pen-worthy. As an undergraduate, the first time we were exposed to a live TB patient, was in our clinical chest medicine posting in 2 nd year MBBS. Till then, we knew TB only as the disease caused by pink cylindrical bacteria seen through the microscope. We half expected to see pink tall warriors ready to jump into our lungs and infect us. Parents warned us of the perils of getting infected with TB, and used the opportunity to instill in us the importance of a heavy breakfast. We wore one or two face-masks for protection. With a heavy breakfast, the double mask and white coat, we thought our armor was complete...

TEXTBOOK It was a busy night in the orthopedics emergency ward of the government hospital where I was doing my internship. Emergency ward duties were exhausting, and required constant energy and commitment despite our body`s plea to rest. Responsibilities of our duty went on like clock work, though most of the time our brains were numb, but our hand, feet and mouth continued to work, disconnected from our emotions and thoughts. As an intern, my tasks included inserting IV cannulas and drawing blood for investigations, giving injectable drugs, catheterizing and checking vital signs, to name a few. On that particular day, some patients from a neighboring district who had survived a bus accident and needed super-specialty care, were shifted to our hospital. Around 2 AM, the case files of the new patients had arrived.   I found the big list of patients allotted to me and shouted out aloud to the huge, crowded and animated ward to find the first patient. “Nandini!!...

JIGSAW PUZZLE “ Waa…WAAAAH……” The baby's cry was inconsolable, incessant and purely nerve-racking.  It had been going on for the past hour, and other patients in the ward were looking at me as if I was the terrorist who dropped this bomb here, their stares a thousand knives boring into my back. And as the resident in charge of the ward I was the wonder-woman empowered to solve ALL their problems. One well-meaning old gentleman came and told me, “Doctor madam, just give one injection to stop the wailing please.”  Hearing this, another commented, “Give something so that the baby will never cry again!” I scowled at him. Another wise greying grandmother offered this advice, “Madam! This baby probably has some ghost attack! We should call a priest and do puja.” I retorted, “Grandma! This baby is crying for his mother! As far as this hospital is concerned, only doctors are there to treat!” I would say that Meenadevi was the most irresponsible mother...

EBONY AND IVORY “Ebony and Ivory, Live together in perfect harmony, Side by side on my piano key, Oh Lord, Why don’t we?”                               Paul McCartney It was a lazy afternoon at the pediatric outpatient department . A middle aged woman, who looked evidently worried, came to my consultation room with a small baby.  She was followed by a very young and equally worried young lady, whom I presumed to be the mother, and her young husband who still had not outgrown his boyish looks. ” Doctor!”, the middle aged lady, whom I later learnt was the grandmother and the unrivalled chief of the clan, cried out. “ Look at this baby, she was pink when she was born! And now day by day she is becoming darker. You doctors kept her under such strong lights for jaundice, but you never told us that our baby wil...