12 Oct ‘14
We
were in a rattling, overcrowded bus winding our way over some ghats. Some
fellow passengers were sick, and throwing up out of the windows with abandon.
Undigested rotis and daal splattered the walls of the vehicle. The smell choked
us. At the next stop, my classmate, Dr G, dug some anti-nausea medicines out of
his haversack and offered them to all who felt queasy so that we could have
some comfort for next couple of hours. When the bus re-started its journey, a
middle-aged, pock-cheeked man with a city-tailored shirt-pant asked him what he
did for a living. “Doctor?” he confirmed. From then on, Girish fielded
questions about dyspepsia, drop foot, infertility, joint and other pains,
falling hair, backaches… not just of that villager, but about his brothers, his
sister’s children, wife’s family, everyone. When he ran out of relatives, he
graciously permitted another passenger to take his seat to make full use of
Daakter-saab whilst the bus continued towards its destination. Everybody took
their turn. By the end of the journey, without examination, without even being
present, several patients-in-proxy, had been diagnosed and the prognosis
cheerfully given. One or two were declared ‘back from Yama’. A grateful sample
of rural India’s population offered the good doctor a hen, some potatoes, a
bagful of peanuts, firewood, and a used but warm scarf.
Where
do you practice, I once asked another doctor friend. “Anywhere at all,” she
sighed. “The moment someone finds out I’m a doctor, symptoms overtake
conversations. Incurable years-old headaches, lingering heartaches, near-death
experiences, even boils in unmentionable places. Then begin the debates: ancient
traditional treatments versus the toxic capsules one consumes these days. You
have a veritable university set up in someone’s dining room at a late night
party. Or beside a waterfall at a picnic spot.”
What’s
more, a doctor’s specialization doesn’t matter. At dinners and parties, paediatricians
are asked questions about skin problems, dermatologists their opinions on heart
ailments. Gynaecologists are spared. Nothing like a free consultation in these
days of inflation. And ‘friendly’ advice somehow seems more genuine than
‘professional’ stuff (a misquote from someone who expressed the view).
In
a car-rally, a couple who hadn’t qualified managed entry because they were “doctors,
you know, might be useful”. Another time, someone wanted her child babysat for
an evening. She cooked up an ‘emergency’ to have her neighbour take care of it for
a couple of hours. Policemen at signal seldom fine doctor-drivers because of
the life-saving rush they’re in.
A
young doctor is a prime ‘catch’. “My niece/nephew is of marriageable age” is
the thought that crosses every middle-aged mind who meets one such. The thought
is often translated into direct questions and sometimes carried forth to visits
home, exchange of biodata, etc.
People have made formal appointments with doctors,
paid the fees, presented themselves as patients just so they could check out
the bride(groom)-to-be. The latter didn’t have the tiniest clue of what was
happening.
Doctors
are also supposed to have cures for all ills, even social and financial ones.
“Please tell my son to study.” “Please tell my mother to stay out of our married
life.” “Please tell my husband to change his job.” “Please tell me how to
handle my quarrelsome neighbour.” Or “Do you think such and such bonds are a
good buy?” “Do you think so and so mutual funds are doing well?” Even: “is this
car better than that?”
Over a period of time, can’t blame the medics for
believing that they really are the experts on defence, finance, foreign
affairs, education, sports, arts and culture. The perks of their practice is to
get invitations to events, discussions, conferences, plays, dances, forums,
inaugurations, all sorts of functions. It is assumed that they attend them and
assimilate every nugget of information received. All intelligence and smartness
is incorporated in that word ‘doctor’.
The
flip side is that they cannot, dare not, fall ill. “How can YOU get
fever/diarrhea/toothache/nausea?” is a common question, followed by the rider:
‘you’re a doctor’. Or ‘X is a doctor’s daughter, and still she got typhoid/jaundice/pimples/whatever .’
It
isn’t easy for any human being to live up to such expectations. No wonder they
at times live in cocooned worlds. For if they didn’t, they’d be constantly at
work, answering questions about others’ health-issues real or imagined, with no
boundaries of time or location, anytime, anywhere.
Do
teachers, architects, beauticians, lawyers, drivers, do free practice? Just wondering.
Feedback:
sheelajaywant@yahoo.co.in
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