So What?

 

The condolence meeting was a serious gathering as was expected. Her husband – an orthopedic surgeon in the city had suddenly died of heart attack. It was a shocking death which added to the solemnity of the occasion. He must be in his late forties - still very young. She sat leading and facing the mourners. They were in early mid-life. Still nothing was well settled and the entire apple-cart of her life had turned turtle. The pain and challenges that she now faced with two young children was impossible in words. Her eyes got misty intermittently. As a wife and husband, both of them had got along very well. They were a fine couple. A tall lady very good-looking in her youth, she was my senior and always had a very healing presence. She was very skillful and competent in her work. She was not strict but was well accomplished in getting all the work done.

Solemn condolence meeting

       

I went early in the meeting. My connection with her was never formal. It was beyond that. It was one of genuine respect bordering reverence.  Usually people sit for about 5 to 10 minutes at such gatherings. I sat for about 20 minutes. Just as I moved to get up, my gaze turned to her and caught her eyes. She moved her hand a little – clearly indicating “sit”. She was my senior in the Obgyn department more than two decades ago. Picking up her non-verbal signals was a habit for me, not yet forgotten. I postponed the idea of leaving. After about 20 -25 minutes again I moved and again she gestured to sit. All through I observed, she was very silent, solemn but composed. Though her eyes did well-up intermittently nothing more was revealed. Nevertheless I noticed something. I had seen during my PG days working under her for two years one peculiar emotion to her. It showed her inner poised defiance as if to say, “so what?” The same emotion was writ large on her face today. There was no arrogance just a confidence. After the last mourner had left I rose went in front of her and did the traditional Namaskaar. Not a word exchanged – it was the old timer senior and I her junior once again. This time she gently nodded. It meant now I can go.

As I was driving back home, my memory took me to my first emergency duty as a postgraduate student in the labour room. I had just completed MBBS and the subsequent internship, I selected Obgyn for specialization. Emergency was light and soon it was afternoon. As was the phrase then there was “nothing active” in the labour room so the other medical staff went to attend the weekly teaching session. She walked up to me and said very confidently “You manage the labour room in this next hour. If you need any help, let me know. I will rush down”. I too was not worried. I had recently done a full internship in labour room very sincerely and diligently.  I had a good exposure of the happenings there. Little did I know that internship and postgraduate residency are totally different games - and soon something happened!

Within 10 minutes of me being alone, a full-term first time pregnant lady walked in. She had not shown anywhere during the entire pregnancy as was happening so often in those days. I examined her and realized that the fetus was presenting by its buttocks and was about to deliver in minutes. I had theoretically learnt how to conduct such a delivery in my MBBS course. So supremely confident, I conducted it, absolutely flawlessly. There was no complication – either to the newborn or to its mother. I had a smile of satisfaction on my face. Soon, the entire medical staff returned from the lecture hall – teaching session being over. They all looked at me with a snarl and apparent derision. I was intrigued. The news seemed to have spread already. I just couldn’t understand what had I done wrong? Nevertheless, now I was surely perturbed.

Perturbed

Just then she, my registrar, walked in – supremely calm, cool and composed. She had a small smile on her face. I took her to the mother and newborn in question and briefed her medically. With a tinge of fear (of the unknown) I meekly said “I conducted it when you were in the teaching session”. Pat came the reply “So what?” She was actually directing those words to the onlookers who were expecting fireworks. The pain of my distractors was: How can a day 1, first-year resident conduct a complicated (breech) delivery, all alone? A hush fell on the group of onlookers at her response. Soon followed the Professor of the unit. Obviously she was informed. Livid, she was baying for my blood. My registrar said to me, “You don’t come out till I call you” and went to meet her. Miraculously, I was never called. I don’t know what she told the professor but the latter left as quickly as she had come, but pacified. I still don’t know what she told but I surely heard “So what?” “I take the responsibility”.

We had a barbaric emergency week system. In this the registrar of the administrative unit coming-in would take charge on a Monday morning at 8 AM and that unit lock-stock and barrel would be attending all emergencies, deliveries and all critical cases in Obgyn for 168 hours continuously. To my ill-luck I had a colleague who was the son of a famous gynecologist in the city. Nepotism is deeply ingrained in many medical institutions and our department was no exception. He took full advantage of his mother’s name and fame. Never interested in doing any strenuous work, he would leave half-done work for us to complete. One night when the duty was about to change something unimaginable happened. Exactly on the dot at 11 PM, I entered the labour room for my duty, to relieve him. He was waiting for me. He had made a surgical cut at the opening of the vagina during childbirth, to aid a delivery in the mother whose delivery he had conducted. It is to be sutured in three layers. He had sutured the first layer and left the two remaining layers un-sutured as it was 11 PM – his duty was over. By no medical standards was this acceptable and could be tolerated. I, without a word, quickly scrubbed up and sutured. In the meantime he left arrogantly speaking loudly, “I won’t work beyond my duty – even for a second”. Just then my registrar – our Ms. So-What, walked in for the night round of the labour room. “Oh you got busy as soon as you entered!” she observed. While she was taking round of other patients with some other junior she was told by them of what had happened. She didn’t utter a single word at the absolute irresponsible behavior. I too didn’t speak anything but she had read my pain within. After a week or so while we were all sitting at a coffee break she purposely brought out this incidence. The colleague who had left the wound half sutured was not present. Our Ms. So-What allowed me to describe what had happened and then responded with her characteristic “So what?” I was baffled. But she backed it up with some golden lines. “He has his mother’s hospital to learn everything. Have you any? Then learn here. No questions asked, no complaints made”. These words – no complaints made became a guiding beacon in my life. By two simple but powerful words “So what” she taught me an amazing philosophy of life. 

Philosophy of Life

After about a month of her husband’s passing suddenly my phone rang and her name flashed on the screen. “Can you come down this Sunday evening for a cup of tea?” No was never the answer. Her maid served tea and biscuits and left us alone. She said “It is surely difficult. Our lives were completely intertwined. I am picking up the pieces now” and expectedly her eyes welled up. I deftly changed the topic and deflected it to something she loved – operative surgery. She had recently started doing many endoscopic surgeries. She relaxed and chattered away. Inadvertently I inquired how she is managing all alone now. Pat came the reply “I am effortlessly managing”. With the supremely confident and fighter’s gleam on the face she blurted out “Alone – so what”?