The "Patient"

My phone rang at 4.45 AM in the morning. I had had a tiring day at the hospital with more than 250 consultations.
The head nurse Kokila sounded quite tense as she told me about Babu on the phone. “Doctor, Babu is creating nuisance again. Just now he threw his Cannula away when sister Piyali went to his room for his antibiotic dose.”

I rubbed my eyes and stood up with some effort, looked over to the other side of the bed to see her silhouette over the warm quilt and smiled. “Sushma, I am doing all this for you and the kids!” I realized that I said that too loud almost to disturb her from her sleep, but I guess she was too tired to notice.

On my side table, a small piece of paper was kept, nicely folded. I opened it.

“Blue Shirt and the grey trousers on the couch and a glass of milk near the microwave”

Oh my darling wife, how do you know beforehand each time that I have to go to attend emergencies? If it wasn’t for you, I could never have continued in the Holy Hospital. With more than 200 patients a day and some of them on the brink of losing their minds, I wonder how I could keep up without becoming a muddle head myself. Among these thoughts, I pulled up my grey trousers, wore the blue shirt and went to the kitchen for the milk. Next to microwave was another message for me.

“I will be out when you’re back and kids will go to school themselves.  

Forget not your wallet and the house keys”

I took the bag kept on the couch, with wallet and keys and a pack of biscuits alongside, and left home.
Dr. Wilson Matthew, Senior Psychiatrist, read my tilted name plate outside my room, from which a tensed Kokila rushed out and said, “Rush Doctor”.

Babu is suffering from “Glioblastoma Multiforme” grade 4, which medicos call GBM 4 in short, the most aggressive malignant primary brain tumor in human beings, maximum prognosis being 15 months. It was worse in Babu’s case and what needed immediate attention was his depression.

 “What's the point?” Babu asked. “I am going to die regardless of the treatment you people are giving me.”

I took his hand into mine and said, “Life is a gift Babu, and death is certain. We all start dying the moment we are born. Therefore, to the best of our ability, we must live the precious few moments of life to the fullest possible and take time to enjoy it while we can.” I knew Babu was a religious man so I told him a verse from Bhagwad Gita;

“For certain is death for the born, And certain is birth for the dead,

Therefore over the inevitable, Thou should not grieve”

I stayed with him for some time and later instructed Kokila to sedate him to relieve him from his bed sores for some time. My hand went into my pockets for the pen to sign on a prescription, only to find another message from Sushma.

“Don’t forget your own medicines doctor sahib! Time for Atenolol 50”

Yeah right. Thank God for wives I thought and immediately called for a self dose. It was already 8 by then and I had a huge queue of patients with all sorts of disorientations of the mind. The middle aged with anxiety, insomnia and memory loss and the younger ones with depression and eating disorders. It is a world of new age diseases, those of the mind, I thought to myself.

“You kept your keys in the overall’s pocket”

Another message read just when I was looking for my car keys. What is the medical term for your 20 year old habit of dropping your car keys in the overall’s pocket every time, and forgetting about it? I don’t know. But I know what it is to be reminded about that every day by your wife, ‘Love’.

I unlocked the door silently. It is late in the night and Sushma and the kids must be sleeping. Ah! There she was, sleeping sound on her side of bed. So what if she slept early today as well, looking at her silhouette through the quilt, I already felt warm and loved. I changed into the night suit that Sushma keeps on my side of the bed before sleeping and snuggled in to the bed.

“I forgot to kiss you goodnight!” suddenly I thought to myself and sprang up from the bed to walk up to the other side. Slowly I uncovered the quilt over the line-up of her favorite pillows, and kissed on the white wedding gown nicely spread over it. There was a message there on a piece of paper for me, kept folded over her wedding gown which read

“Goodnight my love”

“Sleep tight, my darling,” I whispered, “I shall sleep too, and wait for a morning when I finally wake up with you”.