The perks of being in a profession you love

Every physician who is ordained by Almighty to impart healing to ailing humanity will have a few cases which touches his/her heart and remains etched in the memory till eternity. I am no different and though in the past twenty-seven years, thousands of patients have entered our consulting room and have had varied levels of satisfaction, there are a few which sometimes bring tears to the physicians’ eyes.

I wish to share the case of a fifteen-year-old boy who entered our consulting room, carried by his two brothers, with shaven head and a big scar on the scalp, the telltale mark of a previous surgery and of course, alopecia post chemotherapy. It was an obvious case of brain tumor. He was very carefully placed on the patient stool supported by his two brothers so that he doesn’t fall off.

I am used to seeing patients in all age groups and almost all varieties of the dreaded disease in my never-ending learning school with my mentor and Guru in Homoeopathy since the past twenty-seven years. It has been an incredible journey with the most painstaking abhorrible disease of the millennium and by the Grace of God and the vast ocean of knowledge and confidence of my teacher, I have had the immense blessing to witness complete cures in innumerable cases of malignancies. But that doesn’t mean every malignant case that has entered our room have walked out normal and totally cured in a jiffy. I have also had to sit by the death bed of many a patient, helplessly looking into her/his pleading eyes for a redemption back to life, the agony and final scream of help to be given another chance to live. We are physicians and not God. Lifespan is not in our hands, but we are instruments in the hands of Almighty and wherever there is a possibility of cure, we have been entrusted with a beautiful system of healing, an art and science which if used objectively and with discrimination can snatch away many patients from the snarling dark hands of death and give back quality life till their ultimate final calling.

So, seeing a case like this, Abdulla is his name, always stirs a pang of pain and empathy in me but I always find solace in the fact that he has reached the safest hands in my teacher and if almighty has planned an extended lifespan for the patient, my teacher Dr. Ajaykumarbabu, will never leave a stone unturned to give him back his life. But this boy Abdulla stirred something else in me. The ardent, intelligent look in his eyes and the slightly smiling lips evoked a feeling which I cannot explain till date. Maybe he resembled my adorable little nephew, I felt a wave of motherly love and anxiety flowing towards the boy. Unfortunately, on that day, I was alone in the consulting room. My teacher was out of station and as is the routine, I am free to discuss doubtful cases with him over Skype or telephone.

I collect all the reports from his mother, a living personification of misery and sadness, quite understandable, having to see her own child in the grip of a disease stamped incurable, paralyzed on one side after two surgeries and two courses of chemotherapy, in his most prime phase of life.

I traverse through the big bundle of medical reports and find the present state of the case. It is a case of recurrent Medulloblastoma surgically removed twice in a span of two years, diagnosis of a pseudo meningocele after first surgery together with a subgaleal cystic lesion which was removed in the second surgery (The terms are just medical jargon meaning recurrent brain tumor). He is totally paralyzed on the left side and is dependent for even his daily chores. And to top it all, the tumor has recurred again together with fluid collection at the site of second surgery. The patient presented with continuous vomiting, unable to retain any food, is again advised for surgery which gives no guarantee for complete cure even after. 

The family was totally disillusioned and knew not what to decide. Homoeopathy was their last resort and they had come under the referral of another patient in their locality who was cured of a pituitary adenoma from our clinic.

The amount of faith and hope they had in my teacher was evident from the eyes of all the four who were in front of me, including Abdulla. There was no time for speculation, doubt or explaining the scope of Homoeopathy to this class of clients who have come in total frustration and unquestionable hope in the system or rather in the physician.

 I directly plunged into the inevitable duty of the physician, exhaustive unprejudiced, case taking scavenging every nook and corner to locate the cause of the disease. Or rather the cause behind the cause of disease, I mean the miasmatic’ lineage of the patient as well. But to my surprise, there was no family history or history of any destructive disease in the family thus ruling out the possibility of a genetic inheritance. Nothing particularly helping for arriving at a specific prescription. To arrive at a single remedy which covers all the nuances of a case is no child’s play and it takes all our effort to finally pinpoint the apt remedy.

After interrogating the bystanders including his mother and not really getting any conclusive cause, I playfully, yet very cautiously start my interview with Abdulla. He answers very slowly but in firm clear language, the surgery had weakened some areas of his brain, hence the slow speech. But the clarity of his perception and effort to answer to my inquisitive enquiry was remarkable. The first thing I did was to ask him to shake my hand with his left paralyzed palm. He took his left palm with his right and placed in mine, a lifeless piece of human tissue. It reminded me of Dr. Hahnemann’s first essay,” the wonderful making of the human hand” and the irony here. I asked Abdulla what he wanted. He said “I want to study, I want to go to school, I want to write the 10th standard exam this year. I want to play cricket like before.”

My god: this boy was so much full of hope and desires for the future and his disease is stamped incurable by the medical world! I was flabbergasted and equally desperate to be of service to this sweet ambitious strong boy, far more matured for his age, maybe due to the experiences of his life. But Can I show my desperateness on my face? Aren’t I the physician they are looking forth to find a solution to their most helpless situation? NO WAY. I had to put up my calm, collected confident posture of the well experienced physician and again poke him playfully, still ardently searching for the prescription point. “Abdulla…. So, you want to play cricket? Were you a good player before? “Yes. I was the best all-rounder in school, I had been selected to the school team and was about to go for a tournament when this vomiting started and all the rest of this treatment. I miss my friends and school and game. Doctor… I want everything back.”

That was a leading point. We discussed about cricket, though I knew very little about the game but pretended to be very well versed to make him talk more, to get confirmation about the remote doubt I had in mind. Yes, he was knocked down unconscious once with a heavy blow on the head with the hard cricket ball and Yes…That was the prescription point and the cause which triggered the array of events later on(Not going into the medical analysis).I again probe into his general character, demeanor, happenings at school, any mental or physical trauma, anything which will give me a clue to the prescription which will redeem this little champ to normalcy.

 I get at the crux and finally wind up assuring him that everything will be restored unto you, all the while invoking the Universe to conspire and impart total healing to this creation of his through the medium of Homoeopathic medicines which is the tool we have been bestowed with.

I ask the patient to wait outside and discuss the case with my Sir. We arrive at a consensus after half an hour of arguments and clarifications as usual, the most creative enjoyable part of my career with my teacher and he launches on his first prescription. I am also convinced and satisfied and pass on the prescription to our pharmacist. After the seemingly unending wait of more than three hours, Abdulla and family seems satisfied and full of hope as they leave the premises thanking me for all the time spent for them to which I give the usual reply “It’s nothing but my duty”.

This was way back in November 2014.

We have been seeing Abdulla every now and then because bringing him from 100km away from our clinic is not feasible every two weeks. But his mother and brothers have been the most faithful delightful bystanders a physician can wish for. They have been reporting accurately and punctually and giving medicines systematically. It was extremely gratifying to know that his vomiting stopped after the first month of treatment and his frequent visits to the local hospital to administer intravenous fluids were nil. But each time, it was still an agony to see Abdulla being carried by his brothers into our consulting Room. Physiotherapy was going on together with our medicines.

As days passed onto months, Abdulla became another patient in our room and though it was painful to see him still paralyzed found solace in the fact that he is improving day by day on all other levels. I lost touch with this boy for a few months as I was On and off on leave at the clinic due to my parents’ illnesses, but he was being followed up by my Sir. To be frank, Abdulla became just another erased memory to me as any other physician.

But on 2/9/2015, as I sit with my teacher recording case after case, probing mechanically into every next patient, here comes Abdulla walking with a small support from his brother. His mother’s eyes are radiant and happy. I look with awe and amazement at him and then to my teacher bowing before his feet in my mind. Abdulla sits by my side. I give him a beaming smile and ask him for a left sided handshake. He gives me a cool look and squeezes my hand between his. I give out a loud squeak writhing in pain and impulsively pull out my palm from his, me laughing like I have never done in months; my Sir, his mother and brother joining in. I vainly try to hold back the tears of joy that welled up and let it flow unhindered. 

I thank the Universe for ordaining me to be a Homoeopathic practitioner, being given the right teacher who shows me day in and out that the teachings of our Great Master Hahnemann are here to stay till eternity… No research, no change is needed to match the symptoms of a case to the vast Materia medica our master and stalwarts have left behind. What we need is thorough understanding of the human body and mind, proper knowledge of the Materia medica and total surrender to the truth of the Universe and the one and only true healing principle SIMILIA SIMILIBUS CURENTUR.

Epilogue: Fast forward…2021…Abdulla is still a frequent visitor to our consulting room. He has completed his studies; the tumor has not returned till date, and he walks with a small support of a stick. He is still one of my favorite little souls.

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