LIGHTS AND SHADOWS

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS

 He opened his eyes, looked at me and smiled. 8 year old Bhagaban was lying in the second bed of the paediatric ward of Ashakiran hospital. The scene was quite different few days before. Brought from a distant hamlet called Badigod, he was the second son of a family who were finding it hard to make both ends meet. Badigod had just begun to taste the fruits of development. Mobile networks had intruded the air space; roads connected them to social mainstream. Bikes, cable televisions, urban colours through migration had all affected this remote part in tribal Orissa. But this family was not fortunate enough to enjoy this progress.

As if poverty was not an ailment enough, Guru Mattam the head of the family had passed away due to an undiagnosed illness. The mother took up the baton of leadership and worked as a daily labour to fetch some food for her young ones. Soon another tragedy struck. The elder son Bhagaban had begun to develop swelling of the body. It had surpassed the level of inconvenience to the stage of fatalness. He was taken to the traditional witch doctor for help. The Gunia (witch doctor) had extracted money, few chicken and hope before he gave up. Bhagaban lay in the house moribund for a month when the mother’s sister accidentally visited their house. She encouraged them to go to the hospital. After much motivation and cajoling, the ballooned Bhagaban had entered Ashakiran hospital.

It was a busy day. The records, laboratory, x-ray and all other departments were in the peak of their activity when a phone call interrupted the flow of events in the consultation room. The voice of the in-charge nurse Renu had a sense of urgency when she asked the doctors to see a sick child who was brought directly to the casualty. Dr Shoba and I had gone to the ward to find an 8 year old boy swollen up from head to toe in a propped up position on the bed in nursing station. He was labouring for breath against the obstinate lungs that were trapped above the fluid filled abdomen. Did his kidneys pump out too much protein? Did the body loose too much blood causing this malady? Did the heart fail in pumping enough fluid out to the peripheries? Several queries had been raised. Relevant investigations had been sent. None of them took us any forward.

By afternoon Dr Viju, the paediatric surgeon was informed of the child and the first thing he did was to ask for an IV cannula to drain out some fluid from the tense abdomen. About a litre of straw coloured fluid was removed. His skin had a spectrum of skin lesions. Dr Molly, the dermatologist was romped in. She had seen such lesions so many times that her instinctive diagnosis was atopic dermatitis. But that did not explain why the child had developed such massive oedema. Only after Dr Vinod, the physician entered the scene did we realise that the child’s blood pressure was high. In fact so high that the medical jargon calls it ‘hypertensive emergency, hypertensive heart disease and encephalopathy’. The magic drug to pump out the fluid from the body was started and all the oedema had begun to subside. He was passing copious amounts of urine and his discomfort was gone. The mother in the meantime had shared all her sad story to Soumini, the counsellor who had been a source of comfort to innumerable patients in the ward. Gospel was shared and the restless souls immediately had faith in His name. Our job as Christian medical professionals does not end when the vital signs become normal, but when each of our patients realise the love of Christ through our work. In this case it did happen. This was a won case. Or so we thought!

That evening I was on night call and I went to Bhagaban’s bed. He opened his eyes, looked at me and smiled. I immediately became nostalgic. The greatest moments of one’s life are not when you win the world but when you see a smile on your neighbours face. The usual grumbling for taking up medical profession was replaced by contentment. I smiled back and told the mother that he was doing fine. That was a mistake. The moment I told them that he was better, they began the chorus that they wanted to go home. You cannot stop three things in this world- A cyclone, a drunken motorist from having an accident and an inpatient who wants to go home. Dr Vinod had already chalked out a plan to evaluate why the young child’s blood pressure was so high. The mother promised that she would bring back the child in two weeks’ time. Money was waivered and she was given two weeks of medicines.

 There was a sense of fulfilment on the day the boy left. But that did not last long. Four months have passed since then. The wards of this hospital still await the 8 year old Bhagaban to come back for review. Is he still alive? Has poverty chained the mother to bring him back? Has the family given up on the idea of modern medicine and are still being exploited by the witch doctors? Many such Bhagabans have come, experienced a new lease of life only to be lost in oblivion. No matter how much medicine we give, the change can come only through the light of the Gospel, which teaches us that bodies are temples of living God and we need to care for them. Then we would realise the importance of health and act accordingly with rationale. Then we would have the hope to fight diseases and approach the right source for care rather than succumbing to the dictates of fate. In that sense Gospel is as much for the earthly wellbeing as much as it is for eternal life. Till then the lives of people will oscillate through episodes of lights and shadows.