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RAMBLINGS OF A KOPITE

Erratic thoughts of a doctor


RESILIENCE

Small, subtle things that make your heart break a little when you’re in this
profession. A 17 year old patient with aplastic anemia. We wanted his bone
marrow slides reviewed in our laboratory. The catch? Those slides were in
Abbotabad where he was diagnosed. I told his elder brother (his only attendant)
to somehow bring them to our hospital, knowing that it was a difficult task. The
very same day, during my evening rounds, his elder brother wasn’t there. Upon
inquiry, the attendants’ next to his bed told me that his brother was coming
from Abbotabad as he had travelled the same day from Pindi to Abbotabad,
received the biopsy slides and was on his way back. I was taken aback. It may
look like a small thing, a brother travelling to another city to get some
samples, but I knew, he was a labourer, to travel back and forth on public
transport with little to no money was a big thing for him. It showed something
deep, something resembling resilience, a tiny ray of hope, at his end, of doing
everything he can, the smallest of things, to help his brother, to save him. It
left a big impact on me. How people, with little means, have the power to do
everything in their capacity to help people they love.

We see cases like this everyday. Of people doing everything they can to save
their loved ones. To arrange money for one more blood test, to get one extra
dose of medicine, only to see them losing their battle against death every now
and again.

It has become such a norm that we, the healthcare providers, have practically
become immune to it, to the woes of living, breathing people surrounding us.

Today was a wakeup call for me. To do everything in my power to help these
people. In any way possible. Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter
how many tests you pass or what scores you get, if you haven’t heard the silent
cries of these patients, you have done nothing worthy of your profession.


Posted byGhanwaJanuary 18, 2023January 18, 2023Posted inUncategorized2 Comments
on Resilience


IMPOSTER SYNDROME

“Have you ever gotten that feeling when you realize that you were just meant to
be a doctor, all this time?” I asked my friends this question during my house
job, and their response was immediately a yes, “Of course! Multiple times,” they
nodded their heads in unison. “Well, I haven’t. Ever,” I told them forlornly and
they just looked at me. Embarrassed for me, maybe? Pity, was it? I couldn’t make
sense of those looks. It wasn’t like patients hadn’t thanked me for looking
after them with great care. They had. Numerous times. But that doctor moment,
that saving a life moment, that never came. And that just left a nagging feeling
in the pit of my stomach somewhere.


Many a time in house job, I had considered just quitting, going for CSS. Felt
like I wasn’t meant to be here. Treating patients just didn’t seem like my
forte. Until that day, not long after my house job had ended, one hot evening in
District hospital. Working as a medical officer in DHQ can be grueling at times,
but mostly it’s routine cases that you have to deal with. I was working in the
Cardiac Care Unit in the evening shift. That day, an old patient was admitted
from ER into the CCU with severe hypertensive crises and asthma. The usual
initial treatment had been given to him in the ER but his condition, which was
moderate at first, slowly started to deteriorate as I was taking his history.


Upon further questioning his son, found out that he had given him IV drugs at
home to ‘stabilize’ his asthma which had somehow worsened his blood pressure.
The patient was becoming severely dyspneic and his sats started dropping
quickly. At that moment, all other stuff immediately vanished and the sole
purpose of saving the patient came to the forefront of my mind. Briskly started
emergency protocols, advising staff about the next best step to do. Nebulize,
injectable anti-hypertensives, other IV drugs. Counselled the patients’
attendants multiple times about the condition and that he may be needing ICU
care in the near future. Kept asking him every few minutes if his breathing had
improved, even slightly, and he just shook his head. Stood there for the rest of
the shift, monitoring him, giving further IV medications. Shift ended but the
next doctor hadn’t arrived. Kept waiting for him and checking up on the patient.
Finally got up one last time to have a look at the patient, asked him if there
was any improvement and he nodded, ever so slightly. The sigh of relief that
came out of me was audible.


Went back home praying the patient survived the night. Next evening, I was quick
to go to work. To promptly go and check up on the patient. He was sitting there
surrounded by relatives. I headed towards his bed and sentences like, “This was
the doctor who saved my life, Allah bless her” entered my hearing field. I was
quick to blush. Embarrassed. He was not dyspneic now. His sats were so much
better. As I asked him about his health, writing my DPNs, his face lit up.
“Doctors like you are so hard to find. You saved my life..” he continued
praising me and I didn’t know what to say besides, “It was my job, Uncle.” His
son and the rest of the family were so grateful. It was a surreal experience.
That day I came back home with such a sense of pride. I had saved a life. A
life. My doctor moment had finally arrived. The feeling is hard to describe, to
be honest.


The imposter syndrome still spreads its wings inside me every now and then. But
this incident has left such a deep mark on me. Has made me realize how much of a
privilege it is, a profession like this. This is not a self-appreciation story.
It’s a story about belief. About not losing hope. About not giving in to those
self-deprecating thoughts. I found out that I actually, unbelievably have what
it takes to be a good doctor, one who saves lives. And no amount of uncertainty
can deter me from that. And right about now, that’s all I need to keep me going
throughout the day.


Posted byGhanwaApril 9, 2021Posted inUncategorized2 Comments on Imposter
Syndrome


RACE

The first time I came across this word was when I watched the movie ’12 years a
slave’. I didn’t know about Black history back then. The cruelty and the
injustices. And to be fair, I’m in no place to even comment on it, belonging to
a completely different background and culture. But when a thing affects me to
the level that I cry at the inequity of it, I have to write something, anything,
to make it make more sense. Coming back to it, after watching that, it was like
a train had hit me. I didn’t know mighty America was plagued with this senseless
hatred towards black people. As i delved deeper into the subject, I came across
other pieces of art, television shows and books, written by people of color,
depicting a society filled with loathing towards a single color, black.
Centuries of tyranny towards this color. Slavery. Brutality. Inhumaneness.

Though racism was still prevalent in the States, my naivety forced me into
thinking that it wasn’t as bad as it was back then. Only a few folks were
bigoted. But these past few incidences have shook me to my very core. The George
Floyd incident, the video alone is enough to bring tears into the eyes of any
compassionate person. Policemen, getting on top of a defenseless black man,
putting so much pressure on his jugular that he dies crying out ‘help me, please
don’t kill me’. His last words. They killed him. Just like that. Not considering
him human enough. Not equal ‘enough’ to other humans because of his skin color.
Even as I’m writing this, I can’t help but feel utterly disgusted with those
uniformed officers. This was murder. First degree. An innocent man lost his
life, his life, because he was black. What world are we living in? In which
gross injustices like this happen on an everyday basis but don’t get highlighted
because the media won’t show them.

A few months later, this other video resurfaces, a black man, Jacob Blake being
shot 7 times. Seven. In the back. Just because he wasn’t listening to the cops
and walking back to his car? Suppose he WAS reaching for his gun in the car,
suppose he was. Would that justify those seven shots in his back, making him
paralyzed forever? They could’ve tackled him. They could’ve fired shots in the
air to warn him. But no. They didn’t. They would’ve done that. In other
instances. You know when? When they’d face a white person doing exactly the same
thing. They would’ve followed through with this ‘legal procedure’ had the person
been white. They shot Jacob because he was black. And this is where I just can’t
take it anymore.

Such prejudice. Such barbaric ways. And here we think United States is the
epitome of everything fair. Where law and order actually does work. If this is
the level of tyranny there, only God can help the rest of the world. I can only
hope this despotism weans its way out in the coming years, that people finally
realize not to judge someone just because of the color of his skin but by the
strength of his character. I can only wish that this cruelty stops. That people
treat each other like human beings. That black people finally get the justice
that they deserve.

Till then, the riots will continue. Making the powerful realize that the only
true power lies with the people.

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice
everywhere.”
Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

Posted byGhanwaAugust 27, 2020Posted inUncategorized2 Comments on Race


FROM DOUBTERS TO BELIEVERS

It’s 2011. I’m sitting in my room frustrated, writing my diary. Liverpool
football club has yet again failed to deliver. Losing to a team like Sunderland.
That’s a new low, in my opinion. Why can’t we just win? I think as I furiously
scribble down the highs and lows of the match. It’s been a tough year, our
rivals are winning every other match, but we just can’t seem to score goals.
Qualifying for UEFA is out of the picture for now.
Moving forward a couple of years, the final whistle has blown, I look
disbelievingly at Gerrard’s crest-fallen face. This can not be happening. Suarez
is crying. Liverpool has just blown its chances of winning the league. Tears
fall down my face without pause. It’s the worst night of my life supporting
Liverpool so far. I’m depressed beyond words. The realization that we could’ve
won the league but fell short is crushing me. Why couldn’t we just win? I toss
and turn the whole night.
A year later, Steven Gerrard bids farewell to Liverpool. I feel weighed down
again. Who will replace a legend like him? I think mournfully. Liverpool’s
position in the league isn’t that great either. Even the most hopeful of us have
lost faith. A year goes by, Jurgen Klopp joins Liverpool now. For the first time
in a long time, I feel a tiny sapling of hope budding within me. His philosophy
lines up with Liverpool’s. He gets emotional over the smallest of things. His
love for the club is immense. He speaks with such passion that even the most
critical of us feel hopeful again. He speaks of us changing from “doubters to
believers”.
It’s 2020. A lot has taken place since the year Jurgen Klopp took over. I’m
sitting in my bed, wide-awake. Laptop in front of me. Liverpool has won the
Premier League keeps flashing on the screen. I can’t quite believe my eyes. Did
LFC just win the league? Is that era of disappointment, sadness and despair
finally behind us? I see the players celebrating. I see Klopp almost crying in
front of the camera. I see Kenny Dalglish wiping his tears away. And it dawns on
me, we have won the Premier League. Words are not enough to describe how I feel
right now. For 10 long years, I waited, for LFC to win that elusive Premier
League trophy. A dream that sometimes felt impossible to come true.
I thought of all those long sleepless nights, after we had lost a particularly
crucial game. Crying in bed, waking up the next day drained. Hoping week in,
week out, that we’d win this game or that one. Of all the highs and lows. Of
praying to win someday. Of feeling so small when the other clubs would win so
easily. And Liverpool struggling to win against small teams, even. I remember
thinking, foolishly, hopefully, at the start of every new season, that LFC would
win it this time. And then seeing those hopes crushed, again and again and
again. And now to win the League, after all that.



It’s truly amazing. The love for this club remains the same as ever, if not
more. It’s not a football club. It is so much more for me. For every Liverpool
fan out there. I feel numb and ecstatic at the same time. Thank you, Jurgen.
Thank you, Henderson. Thank you, Salah. Thank you to each and every player,
every member of this beautiful club. And finally, Klopp, truly you have changed
us from doubters to believers.

You’ll Never Walk Alone.

Posted byGhanwaJune 26, 2020June 26, 2020Posted inUncategorized9 Comments on
From doubters to believers


TRISTE

Life is just so unpredictable. You can’t guarantee the next moment. You make
plans and plans, but you can’t ensure their fulfillment unless it pleases Him.
Being a doctor, I’ve had my fair share of experiences. There’s always something
that keeps nagging me in the back of my mind after every expiry, every critical
patient I receive. That I could’ve done this or that. That I could’ve saved him
if I’d just remembered a certain step.
Today is one of those days, we received a critically ill newborn in the ER with
aspiration and asphyxia. She had this blood and mucous in her stomach and lungs.
She couldn’t breathe. Her saturation was 30% and I had to intubate her. And then
make sure her heart was beating, her small lungs could manage the near to
impossible task of pulling the air in and out. I did everything I could, to the
best of my abilities. And referred her to the Tertiary care hospital at the end.
While a rescue worker was taking her to the ambulance, her tiny blue body
fighting to stay alive, I just couldn’t help but wonder if i had made the right
calls. In saving her life.
Sometimes this profession just takes the life out of you. Today is one of those
sad, sad days. And as I sit here typing this out, I’m thinking if I could’ve
done better. I could’ve. Maybe. And this will stay with me for the rest of my
life. Along with numerous other cases, I’ll just have to deal with it and make
sure the next patient survives if it comes to it. Right now, it’s all just
regret, woefulness and depression.

Posted byGhanwaMay 24, 2020Posted inUncategorizedLeave a comment on Triste


REVERIE

With every death certificate that we fill,

We silence our hearts from the anguished cries of the relatives,

We make sure our expressions remain of ones with solemn nature,

We tightly clamp our ears against those harrowing cries,

Silently checking the pupils, looking for any sign of life, we manage to mantain
an aura of somberness,

We even manage to look the relatives straight in the eyes and announce the death
of their loved ones,

Such is the degree to which we have been melancholically programmed,

But every once in a while, those walls we have built around our stony hearts
crack without us noticing,

A teardrop slowly sliding down our face suddenly jerks us back to the reality,
of a human being lying dead before us, the shrunken skin of his once alive body
now reduced to nothing but flesh and blood,

No amount of mourning will ever make them come back.

But, as soon as we realize this, we wipe our tears, coming out of our reverie
and make another hasty signature on the death certificate of yet another
patient.

Posted byGhanwaJanuary 21, 2020January 21, 2020Posted inUncategorized2 Comments
on Reverie


ATHAR MAMU

ہو چکی غالب بلایں سب تمام

ایک مرگِ ناگہانی اور ہے

These were the last words posted by my Mamu. Athar mamu. The jolliest person in
our family. The most kind-hearted soul of us all. He didn’t show it much but he
cared beyond measure, for everyone he loved. I still remember amma undergoing
cholecystectomy back in the day and Athar mamu crying after seeing her in the
hospital bed. He was a once in a lifetime kind of person. You met him and there
would be little chance of him not befriending you immediately.

Born as the youngest among nine siblings, he was the naughtiest of them all. As
amma told me once, he ran away from home when he was young just because he was
scolded by his elder brother. He and his immediate elder sister, our youngest
khala, would roam around all day long, playing, not sleeping when they were
supposed to and pranking their elder siblings and grandparents. His nature
became even more jubilant when he entered adulthood. He was a pro at hunting.
Even won a trophy in it. He had a boutique back in the day and his choice
regarding clothes was flawless. His good humor never left him, even when he was
going through a rough time in his life. He loved perfumes. All the good ones. He
would often message me a random word, which I would later find out was the name
of a perfume after googling it.

We would always remember him as the chill mamu. The mamu whom we could share
things with which we couldn’t even share with our parents. The mamu who was more
a friend than an elder. The mamu who would mess up our hair every time we would
greet him. The mamu whom we would play Ludo star with all night long. The mamu
who wasn’t afraid of calling us out when we were in the wrong. The mamu who
would tease us on our facebook posts. The mamu who would call me to make sure I
was alright in Rahim yar Khan. To ask me if I needed anything. To joke around,
asking me to bring eatables from South Punjab. The mamu who, when dropping us
home from nano ammi’s, would ask again and again, ‘Kia khaana hai? Btao? Tikkay
hain, Shawarma hai, Burger hai. Btao na!’ and then being very angry when we
didn’t respond.

He was an amazing brother. An amazing son. An amazing father. Whenever amma
called him, for the smallest of things, he would come without a moments
hesitation. Once, there was prolonged load-shedding in our house, he came in the
middle of the night to bring us to nano ammi’s. He loved his siblings to the
core. Lectured us on treating our parents right. He had a huge friend circle, we
found out after his death. His funeral procession was attended by hundreds of
people.

He loved his son immensely. He would kiss him on his eyes, hug him tightly after
lifting him up, stay up with him all night if he got sick. He would take his son
with him everywhere. Bring him anything that would make him happy. He started
writing ash’aar too later in his life. All were sad pieces. Heart-breaking
renditions of his soul. He was depressed on the inside but he didn’t show it.
Always mantained an aura of jubilance. He would kiss my amma on the forehead
every time he came to our house.



He was a foodie inside out. That’s why he opened the Dhaaba business. He was the
kind of mamu we would make funny videos with. He was the kind of mamu no one
could even dream of having. He would make these mouth-watering mutton dishes on
Eid and ask us again and again, ‘Kesi bani hain?’ He would call me on his
birthday, sarcastically reminding me of the importance of the day and I would
get embarassed afterwards. When I went to hostel for the first time, he brought
me everything he could find in the bakery. He didn’t care about material things
as long as the other person was happy.

The day before his death, he called me asking about some medications available
in the hospital. I told him there were none that he was looking for. Then he
inquired if I wanted some fried fish from his Dhaaba as I had complimented about
the fish the other day. He joked around that he would take money this time. I
laughed. He laughed. I didn’t know then. Nobody knew. Even before his death, he
told the doctors that his niece also worked in the hospital.

Athar Hamdani. We still can not believe he isn’t with us any more. It all seems
like a scary dream. Just a few weeks ago, he was making jokes, laughing, driving
us around. And now he isn’t here any more. Mamu, we miss you. Your son misses
you. Your mother, your siblings, your friends, they miss you. But we hope you’re
in a better place. We pray that Allah grants you highest ranks in Jannah. We
pray that your son and your mother, nano ammi, find peace in the space you have
left behind.



Posted byGhanwaDecember 19, 2019Posted inUncategorized5 Comments on Athar Mamu


THE LIVERPOOL BOND

‘You’re a Liverpool fan!?’ I came out of my jumbled thoughts as a fellow doctor
called out to me. He was looking at my phone cover.

‘Well yeah, are you too?’, I asked in excitement.

‘Yes. Your phone cover gave it away,’ he said in amusement.

Wow. I thought to myself. Never would have imagined. Most people didn’t actually
get my phone cover. A bird standing on five stars with a branch in his beak. The
Liverpool logo. MY team’s logo.



We were strangers. Him and I. I had come to my friend’s department to chat with
her and he was a house-officer there. Finally, I had found a Liverpool fan from
around here.

The discussions followed. Liverpool, their position in the league, the
downfalls, Klopp. Everything. It was the football conversation I so desperately
craved yet didn’t know I’d find it in the most unusual way.

It ended. Finally. My friend was getting annoyed at all the football slang and
she interrupted us. He went his way. I went mine.

Never met or talked to him after that. And as I’m writing this, reminiscing
about that day, I’ve come to the realization, that what they say about Liverpool
uniting people. Forming a community. It actually does that. It connects us. From
being strangers to having passionate talks about a club. It truly encapsulates
what this club is all about. The Liverpool Bond, folks.



Posted byGhanwaNovember 18, 2019Posted inUncategorized7 Comments on The
Liverpool Bond


LITTLE THINGS

To those of you who don’t know, I’m currently working in DHQ, and all sorts of
cases are presented to me. Khayr, my timing’s usually from 2-8 and after that
when patients come I apologize and tell them that it’s the next doctor’s turn. A
couple of days back, amma came to pick me up and while walking back a couple
with their kid asked me to write the prescription (I had already checked the
patient and had asked them to go for the labs) it was getting late as I checked
my watch and was about to tell them the usual ‘next doctor will check you’ line
when amma said, ‘kuch nahi hota, write their prescription’. The couple looked
grateful as I wrote it as they wouldn’t have to wait for the next doctor.
Afterwards, they thanked me a lot and looked so obliged that I was a little
embarassed. It didn’t take much of my time. But it saved them from a whole lot
of hassle. And later I realized that, your profession isn’t just about correct
diagnoses and giving the best treatment, it’s about taking those extra few steps
to make the patient’s lives easier.

Posted byGhanwaOctober 8, 2019Posted inUncategorizedLeave a comment on Little
things


SERIES REVIEW: WHEN THEY SEE US

When they see us is a mini-series directed by Ava DuVernay. It is a real story
about the Central Park Five, a group of young black Americans being unknowingly
conspired by the State against the rape of a white female jogger in 1989. But
you could’ve picked the plot by just clicking on imdb or wikipedia. It is the
details that matter, the direction and the acting. The cast did an amazing job
in bringing tears to our eyes. It is not a drama for the faint-hearted. The
first episode alone is so excrutiatingly depressing. I had to pause a lot of
times just to get myself back together. You scream at the injustice of it, at
the exploitation of these broke of-color families by the authorities. The way in
which the detectives force these young black kids to confess something they
didn’t do is really hard to watch. You keep praying, God please don’t let them
confess, please. But in the end, the confessions are the ones that matter the
most.
All the actors played a wonderful job in portraying what those boys went
through. The casting is spot on. The director played a vital role in keeping the
theme of the series ominous and eery for most of the episodes. A special mention
here for Jharrel Jerome who played the part of Korey Wise and for whom you’ll be
rooting the most. The music score was on point in keeping with the baleful
atmosphere of the series throughout.
With just four episodes, When they see us has managed to pull at our heart
strings, tearing them apart in the process, and shown us truly what an average
black American has to face on a daily basis. The racism is evident and is a
defining part of the show. A few jibes at Trump too have been pulled as at that
time, Trump the multi-billionaire, called for the death penalty of the accused
five boys without even confirming if they actually did it just because they were
black.



All in all, Ava DuVernay has managed to depict a no holds barred,
heart-wrenching and extremely daunting series which you should binge-watch in
one go to absorb its full effect. One of the most heart breaking moments is that
of Korey Wise being brutally beaten, raped and assaulted at the federal prison
and him being locked up in solitary just to not get beaten anymore. The last
episode had the most emotional impact for me. One thing is for sure, you’ll
remain numb for the next two days after finishing this series.

Rating: 5/5

Posted byGhanwaSeptember 14, 2019Posted inUncategorized2 Comments on Series
Review: When They See Us


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