SURGERY PRAYERS

It had just rained heavily. The downpour from pregnant clouds had cooled the precincts of our single roomed home. At six in the evening, after a good afternoon nap, we had an idea of praying together as a family- my wife and I. We opened the Bible and read about Jesus sending His 72 disciples to heal the sick and proclaiming that the kingdom of God is near. The Scriptural reading was followed by a time of reflection on what the passage meant to both of us. We learnt that the job of us as medical professionals is incomplete without addressing the spiritual aspect of life. When Jesus said heal the sick, the focus was not on physical well-being as much as it was about the good news that Christ came to bring sinners to repentance and grant them eternal life. Meeting the deadlines of the day and preparing for the next, often eclipses the purpose of our work- both of us realised and we resolved to be complete health workers, meeting all spheres of health needs. I desperately waited for an opportunity to practice my new lesson.

The operating theatre complex of Christian medical College Hospital is a hub of unrelenting activity. At 7 in the morning, patients are brought in trolleys and are greeted by the anaesthetists who would take them to different rooms for surgeries. Hundreds of such patients for procedures big and small are taken in per day. I waited for twenty minutes for my patient about to undergo kidney transplantation. This young man had a rare disease called IgA Nephropathy where body’s own proteins damage the kidney in the assumption that it is foreign.  Both his kidneys had lost function and he was now suffering from end stage renal disease. The previous day, a cadaver was harvested for the kidneys and my patient was first on the waiting list.

The patient whom I would call ‘X’ was in his mid-thirties. As he entered, exhaustion was apparent on his face. The dialysis session the day before had drained away all the wastes of the body and along with it the precious fluids. He was also not allowed to consume any food which was a prerequisite for anaesthesia. As we met, I began the drill of mandatory questions for which I received satisfactory rejoinders. I looked into his eyes. ‘Are you ready?’, I asked. He nodded. I asked for consent. He signed on the paper without bothering to read the particulars. He had just allowed me to drug him to unconsciousness as others would cut through his body. For a moment, detached from the flurry of activity, I thought what would be running through X’s mind. His wife and kids, his parents, his friends and finances- all would be bothering him immensely. But then I could sense hope in his words. ‘Till now I have suffered a lot doctor. Dialysis has siphoned a major chunk of my earnings. Today all that will end. Today I will have a new kidney and with it a new life’. I nodded in agreement and patted him. He looked to me not as a patient, but as a champion of life, not as a whiner scared of pain but as a warrior oblivious of fear. ‘You will do well’, I said and took him in.

OR 4 is a rectangular room with a hi-tech operating table in its centre. Air-cooled for the comfort of the surgeons and uninterrupted power to prevent inconvenience, it is a state of art urology theatre. A Sony Bravia television on the walls, a multi racked laparoscopic apparatus; a huge dome light illuminating the surgical field meticulously and a Wi-Fi linked computer in a corner are the obvious attention grabbers. At the head end of the table, which is the bastion of the anaesthetist, is a ultra-modern ventilator and Boyle’s machine with touch screen vitals monitor. Almost every essential parameter can be recorded giving the anaesthetist a vivid picture of patient’s internal dynamics.

This would be the plan for X. He would first be inserted a IV line- a plastic cylindrical tube guided by a metallic sharp- into one of his peripheral veins. Then drugs of anaesthesia would be given through it. Once he is unconscious and relaxed, an endotracheal tube that will provide access to his airway would be inserted into his windpipe. He would be put on the ventilator which with customised settings would do the breathing for X and give him all the gases needed for life. Then the surgeons would take over. Cutting through all the layers of abdomen they would reach the pelvis, the location for the new kidney. They would then anastomose the blood supply to the new kidney and would check whether the foreign organ has begun it work, of course by looking for any urine.

But before all that could happen, something different happened! Away from medical mumbo-jumbo and surgical intricacies, a tender moment passed by. That carried a lesson stronger than any academic doctrine. X asked me as I was inserting an IV line to pray. I pretended ignorance. He insisted- I need prayer. I was in a fix. Should I go ahead and pray emphasising on the Kingdom, as I learned the day before or act professional above all theological renderings. Then the surgeon came and asked what X wanted. He asked for the same. He called the nurse to pray. She did not respond favourably. In the meantime, I went and hid myself behind the anaesthesia machine, lest X should ask me again to pray. For a period of ten minutes the rigmarole of work had come to a standstill because we could not find someone to pray. There was a dearth of Christians in Christian medical college operating theatre. Those present were hiding with a fear of being exposed. Then a urology registrar came in. I call him Hero- for the only reason that he was not ashamed of who he was. He came forward bravely and prayed for X with a palm over his head.

X’s surgery went on fine. He is now doing very well. But the point is not about X. it is about that registrar who denied what he believed in strongly and hid himself. Why does work change us so much? Why does work change our stand on faith when the latter must inspire us to work in the first place? By the way I had taken a group Bible study myself few days before this incident came to pass- vociferous and candid. In work place I am a totally different person. Reticent and shy, I walk along the side-lines afraid of being picked for my faith. As a PG, I still have the right to believe what I think is right. And I need to take opportunities that come our way to share our faith rather than feeling that I will do it later in life. We will not be given chances tomorrow if we do not use those given today. When we are men and women of integrity not only patients, but also colleagues listen to our viewpoint. Sharing is our job. Rest is His job.