You'll Never Finish The Course

It took me two and a half years and a pep talk from my mother the night before my pathology paper to understand this fact of life. 

I was freaking out that night, completely totally freaked out. And I couldn't really make a very big deal about it because my roommate was giving her FINAL PROF EXAMS. Hence the call to my gold medallist, obstetrician and gynaecologist mother. The lady who has given all my exams before I have, both literally and in her dreams. So I call her up, and very quietly (everyone around is studying) let her know about my freaked out status. 

And she says, "Are you a genius?" Me- "No". "Are you an idiot/ moron?" Me (fingers crossed)- "No." Ma-"The genius has the ability to finish the course. The idiot (by definition) thinks that he has. Since, my dear daughter, you are neither, you are never going to finish the course." 

And, since that cold night, in January of 2006, this has been one of  the mantras of my life- YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO FINISH THE COURSE.

Now, the problem with this mantra is that the course in question is MEDICINE. Medical doctor. M.B.B.S. and then M.D. / M.S. and then, if you are still inclined (masochistically maybe) D.M./M.Ch. So, you did not finish the course. Is that the reason your gonna tell your patient why you could not diagnose at the first shot? 'Coz you couldn't read that chapter 'coz you ran out of time? Certainly not. You ask him to come back with his reports. And you go home, and start reading or rather, continue reading more. Textbooks, journals, online discussions. Whatever you can get your hands on. Because you swore that you would help your fellow human being. You would help him/her get better. And when you can't, you feel so damn helpless. And you can't blame it on the damn course.

But, how do you explain this feeling to a kid who wants to be a doctor? Actually, how do you explain this feeling to anyone who hasn't gone through the same thing? I can't. 

Disclaimer: The editors and the authors have done their best to provide accurate and up-to-date information. However, with ongoing research, medicine remains an ever changing field. The physician/clinician is advised to be acquainted with the latest information/ guidelines prior (to doing anything). Neither the author and editors or the publishers assumes any responsibility for any injury or damage to persons or property arising from this publication/ text. 

Every  medical text in existence comes with a disclaimer on the above lines. One has to keep oneself updated. The course, after all, keeps changing, getting added on to, subtracted from, multiplied and divided, differentiated and integrated and so on. End result? YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO FINISH THE COURSE.

People equate doctors to Gods. (I can see people making faces on reading that statement.) I have heard my patients saying it often enough to know that sometimes, it is true. And I have been wondering. Should I put up a disclaimer on the door of my operating room? I am not God. I am a human being who is going to do her best to get you through your operation comfortably, with minimal or no problems. I can not guarantee that all is going to be well. After all, life does not come with any guarantees. And, well, hell, I never could finish the course. 

It is no wonder that doctors are so frustrated now-a-days. I'm not surprised that Roshan's post went viral.( http://www.godyears.net/2015/05/why-i-will-never-allow-my-child-to.html ) I agree with pretty much everything he says. Since he was my senior during training, I have shared a few experiences too. 

The problematic thing about being a doctor is that the really good stuff can't be priced. It can't be measured in objective terms. 

The patient wakes up and asks, "Operation's is over? When did it happen? I didn't realise it." How do you (the anaesthesiologist) price the feeling of satisfaction those words give. Yay! I did a great job. No awareness, no pain, no problems. Yippee! Happy dancing all over (in my head , of course, I have to be dignified in front of the patient). Fifteen odd years of back breaking hard work summed up. So what if I never could finish the darn course. 

How on earth, do you valuate it? And how do you feel if someone says "it was just a little problem. Why do you want that much remuneration for it? Why do you want anything for it? You are supposed to provide selfless service." 

And, on the other hand, you have a patient who is crying because she has been pricked so many times to gain an intravenous access so that she gets her antibiotics and other drugs. Yet, she bravely allows you to put in a central line in  her neck. And as you are finishing up, she says, "I'll make a hand embroidered kurta for you. I do very nice embroidery. Tell me your favourite colour. I'll make the kurta in that colour for you." 

So thank you, my patient. Thank you for jerking me out of my frustration. For reminding me that sometimes the small stuff helps. For reminding me that while the life of a doctor in India is hard, irritating, inadequately financed, underpaid and overworked and  bureaucratically hampered, the patient getting better does make it all livable. 

So what if I didn't finish the course.