3rd February 2014
'Are you coming back tomorrow?' asked one patient as we made our way towards the entrance of the hospital at the end of a long day. Around her, many other patients lie waiting expectantly in their beds for their operation. Some have been waiting since 30th January 2014.
Nil by mouth, wait, feed; nil by mouth, wait, feed. The demoralising cycle repeated for some patients.
'Yes we are', I replied with a smile. 'We will be here tomorrow first thing in the morning.' A wave of relief swept across her face.
'Thank you so much.' Mustering whatever energy she had left against the weight of her goitre, she flashed a megawatt smile. Hope. A very dangerous concept, but what more can these patients do apart from that. It pains me to even imagine...
It was the end of Day 4 of our time here at the surgical mission. Many were extremely exhausted by now; the 8am-1am routine was not readily tolerated. Furthermore, due to many complicated cases, operations took longer than planned and many scheduled cases were postponed. The list looks much more insurmountable than ever before. Surgeons, anaesthetists and scrubs nurses were functioning from their reserves.
4th February 2014 - Last day
The inevitable happened. The list was truncated. Patients who came from afar were given priority, the rest were turned away to wait for the next mission.
'Please swallow.' I proceeded to examine a patient's goitre before he was being put to sleep. Putting myself in his shoes, I was amazed at the amount of courage and faith he needed to have to be here. For some stranger to put you to sleep, to oblivion; for another stranger to explore your neck, where the great vessels lie, in order to remove a lump that has been with you for the greater part of your life. Trust. That is what patients do with their lives, placing it in our hands.
Today, standing over that patient, I was reminded of the sacredness of our profession. Many times, a patient gets reduced to his or her diagnosis. Sebaceous cyst, lipoma, goitre. We zoom in on the problem and miss the big picture. I am guilty of that sometimes. I find this especially important in the field of Surgery where proficiency is often sought after by performing yet another sebaceous cyst, lipoma or goitre. We become fixated on the diagnosis than the patient.
Perfection. The art of Surgery is the constant repetition of a skill until that is attained. You owe it to your patients to be perfect, to be the best version of yourself - that is a constant process.
To be able to put one's hands to work where they are sorely needed is a blessing. You succinctly brought across what I felt. Indeed, it is a blessing to be able to bless others. I am blessed by the patients I encountered through this surgical mission. I just hope that those patients who were turned away this time do not lose hope...
'Are you coming back tomorrow?' asked one patient as we made our way towards the entrance of the hospital at the end of a long day. Around her, many other patients lie waiting expectantly in their beds for their operation. Some have been waiting since 30th January 2014.
Nil by mouth, wait, feed; nil by mouth, wait, feed. The demoralising cycle repeated for some patients.
'Yes we are', I replied with a smile. 'We will be here tomorrow first thing in the morning.' A wave of relief swept across her face.
'Thank you so much.' Mustering whatever energy she had left against the weight of her goitre, she flashed a megawatt smile. Hope. A very dangerous concept, but what more can these patients do apart from that. It pains me to even imagine...
It was the end of Day 4 of our time here at the surgical mission. Many were extremely exhausted by now; the 8am-1am routine was not readily tolerated. Furthermore, due to many complicated cases, operations took longer than planned and many scheduled cases were postponed. The list looks much more insurmountable than ever before. Surgeons, anaesthetists and scrubs nurses were functioning from their reserves.
4th February 2014 - Last day
The inevitable happened. The list was truncated. Patients who came from afar were given priority, the rest were turned away to wait for the next mission.
'Please swallow.' I proceeded to examine a patient's goitre before he was being put to sleep. Putting myself in his shoes, I was amazed at the amount of courage and faith he needed to have to be here. For some stranger to put you to sleep, to oblivion; for another stranger to explore your neck, where the great vessels lie, in order to remove a lump that has been with you for the greater part of your life. Trust. That is what patients do with their lives, placing it in our hands.
Today, standing over that patient, I was reminded of the sacredness of our profession. Many times, a patient gets reduced to his or her diagnosis. Sebaceous cyst, lipoma, goitre. We zoom in on the problem and miss the big picture. I am guilty of that sometimes. I find this especially important in the field of Surgery where proficiency is often sought after by performing yet another sebaceous cyst, lipoma or goitre. We become fixated on the diagnosis than the patient.
Perfection. The art of Surgery is the constant repetition of a skill until that is attained. You owe it to your patients to be perfect, to be the best version of yourself - that is a constant process.
To be able to put one's hands to work where they are sorely needed is a blessing. You succinctly brought across what I felt. Indeed, it is a blessing to be able to bless others. I am blessed by the patients I encountered through this surgical mission. I just hope that those patients who were turned away this time do not lose hope...
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