Prescription

Ever wondered what it takes to be a Doctor?

Here in this page, aptly titled as “Prescription”, doctors share their hospital and clinical experiences. If you are looking for career guidance, and aspire to become a doctor one day, you should definitely visit this page regularly.

A Hospital Story – The Fish Hook Incident

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fish hook
It was a normal day at the hospital. Patients were waiting in the lobby eagerly looking at the red coloured numbers brightly displayed on a small screen. The small speakers close to the LED screen had just announced the current “Token Number” as “88”. It was almost 12:20 pm and I was in a hurry to finish off the Out Patient Department (OPD) before 1:00 pm which I knew very well that it was not going to happen. I had just handed over the prescription to the old lady who had come to check her blood pressure when suddenly I heard an unusually loud cry from the parking area. I knew something bad had happened to someone and that I would be meeting the crying person within a few seconds. My heart rate had jumped from 80 to 100.

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Looking back at my first Clinical Death Confirmation

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It usually starts with the loud cries of one or two ladies which you can hear even if you are about 50 feet away from the site of incidence. Then you can see a gathering slowly building up around the bed from where the cries had originated. A doctor, a Nurse, one or two Interns can also be seen around the vicinity of the scene with emotion-less faces engaged in some kind of activity like giving a Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation (CPR) or giving electric shocks to the patient with a Defibrillator or giving instructions to the Nurse which usually includes the words “Atropine” and “Adrenaline”. Then after a few minutes of hard work, the Doctor stops the CPR, looks at the monitor displaying straight lines with intermittent feeble sine waves. and examines the chest and the eyes of the patient. Then he walks out of the ward like a defeated warrior with his head held down and asking one of the male bystanders to accompany him. After explaining the reason why such interventions were done in the last one hour, the doctor declares that the patient is “no more”.

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Suturing the Wounded Celebrity

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suture thread, needle

Blood was oozing from the wound like a water pipe with no stopper. The waste bin was half full with blood stained cotton balls which I had used earlier.Anxiety was creeping all over my body and i could feel my palms sweating underneath the sterile gloves. The lady however was still awake and conscious and responding to my questions normally. I took another cotton ball and used it to apply pressure against the wound and raised the lady’s hand to minimise the blood loss. My heart was beating at 120 beats per minute and it suddenly accelerated when I peeped out of the Dressing Room’s half closed doors. There were about 20 men, dressed up in the usual white shirt and white dhothi of the Politicians. Some of them were carrying water bottles and asking the injured lady whether she wanted a sip of water or not. Why don’t they ask me, I thought as my mouth was drying up at a faster rate at that time. Will I be able to repair the wound after controlling the blood loss? Why is she bleeding abnormally? How would the politicians react if I refer her without giving a proper first aid? These questions were making a thick cloud around my mind preventing me from thinking properly. This day was going to be an unforgettable one as I had to repair the wound of the locally respected celebrity, the Panchayath President.

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