Speaking doctors

My blog says that the last post published was on first July. Almost more then one and a half month later, I sit down to write another one. I have my mind filled with a mumble jumble of at least ten ideas to start around but they are all blurred. Vague. The responsibility of writing a post, just to have some shallow breath left to my blog. It needs some oxygen, it cries, some oxygen. Please. Girlish lot The rota comes for August. The month of Azadi. The chief who makes the rota, decides to keep the oncology team azaad from any male residents. Total of eight girls. All sizes. Cute, amazing, naughty. I make the ninth one. My girls work and work hard. Sitara-e-imtiaz I google search and find the following definition in wikipedia. The Sitara-i-Imtiaz (Urdu: ستاره ا متيا, English: Star of Excellence), is the third highest honour and civilian award in the State of Pakistan. It recognizes individuals who have made an "especially meritorious contribution to the security or national ...

Its interesting how different people living in different countries react to the same seasonal variation. We live in the land of samosas and pakoras. This association leads us to think of a wonderful cloudy evening. Winds blowing. Everyone having a smile on their face. Happy in the head for no good reason. Of jalebis and more. Chatnis and ketchups. Of youngs and olds and not so olds. So yes the rainy season approaches us again. I can see scores of medical students outside just to enjoy the hazy weather. Then there is the shop called 'Snacks n Things'. It sure is making good, or rather great business. Tea and more tea. Samosas and rolls. Age is not the bar today. Quiet a crowd. Meray bachpan kay din.. Takes me to the rains in my childhood (but the child in me is still there, pops up every now and then, surfaces and resurfaces.). How it used to rain. The typical interior Sindh rain. We used to soak and soak till our bodies ached. I had loads of cousins for compa...

Floor ends. Again.  Its been ages since I last blogged. I have to start somewhere. I try to find the loose end. The Monday clinic was just that, interesting. Started early. Completed,well early. The most interesting of patients came. Amyloidoma. Refer to oncologist. Time for some literature search was called. My NCCN failed and and so did Medscape.  Scene one I enter the room. The patient looks familiar. The first thing that comes to my mind is thay he has hearing issues. I greet him and smile. He says that he knows me. "You are Shaista right?", he points. Shaista, I am maybe, I think to myself and,smile at my lousy joke. "You are Shaista from Mirpurkhas", he goes on. I like his persistence. "No I am Zarka from Matli.", I explain. The poor uncle doesnt hear a thing. I resort to write it out for him. "Uncle koi shikayat?", I ask. "Shikayatain to naheen hikayatain to hain!", he responds pleased with himself. Number ? I ask the youn...

I don’t even remember when was the last time I d written a post. I do remember prompting my ex-interns (who’ll always be my interns) into writing a post for me some time back.  As I sit under the mango tree with my green tea (with the lemon drops) I collect myself on how to begin. Apriling clinicking I rotated in clinics in April. The month of my birthday. April fool. I grow an year older as the clinics proceed. Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays are clinic days. Tuesdays and Fridays are days of almost nothingness. The nurses like me there (or so I think). "Daikh bilkul hamaray jaisee hay , har waqt khatee rahtee hay!", one of them beams. Then the patients who are there for their initial visit, it was difficult yet funny explaining that I am not Dr Nehal. The stalk of files to see is amazing. Its only do able thanks to the sanity that the staff maintains.       Floor returns One labour day later I am back on floors. With a mixed old new team, Khalid (jo ma...

Guest post   So again, I woke up to the dreadful fact that it’s (med) school no more! You can’t go late to the ward or bunk a patient (*sigh*). It’s always the same every morning, feeling of staying some more time snugged in the bed and till date I feel the same. Beside my wishes, my alarm is quite loud-mouthed. It keeps screaming until I wake up. And the patient’s census guessing start right from the bed, “OMG, I’m already late,’I think we have to follow 15, hmmm, 18 patients.. God knows how many admissions last night. Ahh, Dr. Shayan must be waiting, let’s be quick ‘. So I get ready to reach private wing, with the same wishes in my head. Not to mention the pager hunting in my bag, securing the meal coupons and yeah the much talked about ID card. And the day begins…. A day in Oncology rotation; Oh simple things, where have you gone? So I reached private wing, where the young man at the counter known as UR throws the same old question, before I could even take a breath,” A...

Clinic completes early. So I have an hour, extra and free to my life. The passage from the clinics till B2 oncall rooms is both long and interesting. It gives you a long walk to think. If the day was nice the path is smiley, if the day was not so smooth, you are all the more bitter. So you climb down the flight of stairs, pass through Nazeraliwalji. Three minutes pass There is a lot of construction underway. They are building a two story building. And its building up every day.You have to almost take a u turn and you can see the main building. On this route you see a lot of young and not so young men  with ties. Then comes the round about of the main building. Here if there is an aunty or not so aunty, she makes sure she scans you. She thinks that because you work here so you are highly paid and follow the latest fashion trends. I make sure I throw a smile and move on before she starts to make an effort to smile back. The main entrance is crossed. On the left is th...

Monday ‘What a facility’, I think to myself. I wake up with a heavy heart. Its floors no more. The whole month is supposed to be clinicking. Mondays are supposed to be the toughest. Clinic starts at twelve but will start early (as some other consultant’s clinic is cancelled). I text Dr Asif about when exactly should I reach hospital. ‘At nine’, comes the reply. Nine seems like ages away. A whole extra hour.  I usually leave home at quarter to eight and a fifteen minutes drive takes me to hospital. Its nine when I reach hospital. I hit the on call rooms. From there I call the clinic counter number. They tell me clinic starts at ten. I reach there at quarter to ten. “I’m Dr Zarka”, I introduce myself. The staff there turns around to have a look. “Oh so we finally get to see you today, for the last three months, we have been listening to you via phone only!”, one of the staff beams. I return a smile. Its more of a grimace.   I start with my first patient. Sara’s words...