*Life and Death* ‘Death is inevitable. Death is hereditary. Death is death.’ “But he is dead!” I exclaimed at the top of my lungs, desperately trying to divert his attention back to me, to let me prove my point. If my high pitched voice didn’t do the work, I don’t know what would. Looking down at the man lying on the stretcher, in a peaceful slumber, his broad shoulders left loose, his sturdy hands falling lifelessly out of the stretcher, and that fatal wound to his head immersed in all that blood; recalling what the ambulance man said – “Male, 55, victim of a head-on collision, skull fracture, multiple internal injuries, we’ve been doing CPR for twenty minutes, negligible pulse, he’s pretty much gone”. Oh God, help me! “Perhaps you didn’t hear me young lady, he’s not dead until we say he is so now you know what to do, just do it” Hitler repeated coldly. The menacing look on his face and his chilly voice was enough for me to shut up and hold back any future protests. Our resident surgeon – translation-our boss, had a dignified personality and impeccable knowledge along with his slightly eccentric demeanor. This was the precise reason we called him Hitler besides his 5-6” frame and Hitler-like-moustache. “Dr. Singh will take the patient to OR2 and operate on him while Dr. Paul will be assisting Dr. Mehta on the heart transplant in OR3” he commanded. “Wait! I get to operate on a dead guy while he’ll be waiting on a heart transplant. Not fair!” I complained pouting over my ill fate and suspiciously pointing my finger towards Suchit. Ignoring my tantrums, Hitler asked “Did I make myself clear?” in the same indifferent tone. Turning his gaze towards me, I bit on my lower lip hard to hold back any retorts and instead nodded in approval. Putting on my spotless white coat that read Dr. Mili Singh near the chest pocket, while constantly muttering ‘He’s dead’, I headed towards OR2. “Okay charge to 200” I ordered the nurse as I rubbed the electric shocker on the dead man’s chest. “200” she replied. “Clear” The ECG was still a straight line. “Push one of epi, charge to 300” “300?? Seriously?” the nurse feigned concern. “I think that’s what Hitler wants me to do” “Okay then, charge to 300” “Clear” A straight line. “Cardio synthesis, good, any response?” Hitler asked suddenly entering the room. “Uh-huh” the short, spiky-haired nurse answered for me. “What to do next then Dr. Singh?” “I would call it” “To save him” he barked angrily. “Oh, Umm, a pericardial window” I guessed. “Excellent” he replied getting out of my way and out of the room. ‘It’s a dud’ I thought quietly to myself as Nikhil came and started scrutinizing my patient. “Dude, he’s dead! Why are you still operating on him? You should call it.” He gave his unwanted opinion. Great! This stupid, stupid surgery wasn’t infuriating enough that Dr. Nikhil Sharma decided to preach his teachings now. Truly exhausted till now, I replied with heavy sarcasm reeking out of my every word. “This guy is the love of my life; I can’t bear to live without him, that’s why.” “Whoa! When did you start going out with old men, Mili? Have we all died?” he joked making a face that I was sure I would punch any moment now if I couldn’t control my anger. He was affable but at certain times when he decided to be irritating, he could be like the highly irritating buzzing fly hovering over you without any sign of going away, those were the times I absolutely abhorred him. This was not the way I thought my day would go when I was removing the paper hair curlers from my hair today morning and definitely not what I had planned when I came through the doors of the Lifeline Hospital as an intern after completing, and, mind you, topping the medical exams. His gaze became appraising. I grimaced at him, resisting the impulse to stick out my tongue like a five-year-old, and looked away. The perfect timing for Hitler to come back again to check on me. “Where are you?” he asked in that dry tone of his. “I can see his heart…., his heart that’s not beating…..” I replied sincerely. “Okay, open the pericardium and aspirate, if the heart’s still not beating, close and call it”. That really pissed me off; we were defiling this man’s body! “What? You think we are defiling this man’s body?” he asked as if reading my thoughts. Cool! Now he’s a mind-reader too? “Well, we are certainly doing more than…..” my voice trailed away. “Than what? If they’re dead or dying, when they come through those doors you help them and operate, why?” “For the experience”, I replied looking down. “No, what else? There’s something more?” When Hitler was assured that he wasn’t getting an answer to this he just told me to think on it while he visited the other interns. The other interns who were not operating on a dead body. After doing whatever I could to, supposedly, ‘save’ the man; I began stitching back his chest. “Any family members informed?” I asked the mentally-absent nurse. “I had informed them post surgery, they are in the visiting room” she gasped. “Time of death 1:48 pm” I said heaving a sigh of relief. “Are you gonna tell ‘em?” she asked momentarily glancing at me. I had to, that was my job. Leaving behind the clueless nurse, I started walking towards the family I had to inform. The mother to whom I would have to say – you lost your son. The wife to whom I would have to inform – I’m afraid but you’ve become a widow now. The child who, god knows how much could contemplate the gravity of the situation, when I would have to say – you lost your father. Right then I knew. Surprisingly I got it what Hitler was hinting me. Running towards me, she asked panting “What are you going to tell them?” “Why do we hang on every dead or dying patient that comes through those doors?” I repeated looking distracted. “Experience?” she too repeated someone else’s answer. “So we can tell their family, we did everything we could” - Sayontani Das | #TAWAdminSearch Entry #6
Posted on: Fri, 10 Oct 2014 10:30:00 +0000
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