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Skip to content 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 POSTS NAVIGATION 1 2 3 Older posts Older posts Ramblings of a Kopite, Blog at WordPress.com. * Follow Following * Ramblings of a Kopite Sign me up * Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. * * Ramblings of a Kopite * Customize * Follow Following * Sign up * Log in * Report this content * View site in Reader * Manage subscriptions * Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email Name Website Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. 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