The Observer by Natasha Khalid (guest writer)

Photo-credit: Saniya Kamal, AKU MBBS ' 18

I enter the corridor of my new work place. I’m welcomed and introduced all around. For some reason, best known to her, the human resource lady took so much of my time that I am already pissed and looking angry. I don’t feel comfortable in this different setup and I terribly miss my old working place. Every single thing about it which previously used to get on my nerves is acutely missed. However, I succumb to my new work because it has been over a year since I practiced medicine and the sole reason for me to be here is to get distracted from my mental chaos and to focus elsewhere. In a matter of hours I find myself adjusting here, understanding the work dynamics, and the system around here. It’s easy - not challenging, likely because there’s ample time at hand which I can utilize to study while earning. Not a bad deal!  

This is a dialysis department of a semi-private hospital. Every single patient here is dependent on dialysis, 2-3 times a week. That is their lifestyle, while for most of us, lifestyle is defined by our status symbol and acceptability in society – something we work for, day in and day out.

I see patients from all walks of life and all ages as they walk through the doors at their scheduled times. They align themselves according to their token numbers: some patients race to reach us before the others; a few enter the hall with frowns, likely upset about being here, while others enter with a smile, greeting us and bringing us sweets. After they have been put on dialysis, to kill four tedious hours, they watch television, read a book, and sleep. Some engage in conversations. This group tends to be the chronic patients: well acquainted with each other and so they converse easily on politics and religion; then there are a few aged patients who even yell out in anger about their life’s miseries.

I do my round. They greet me and I greet them back. I observe a profound cordiality between my fellow doctors and the patients - an impeccable kinship worthy of admiration.  At the back of my mind, I’m still thinking which other job to apply for or if I should continue this one. The shift ends and I am writing the post-dialysis weights of the patients as I ask them their names. My eyes are more focused on the weighing machine, rather than on the human being standing on it.

“How much is my weight, again?” the question breaks my reverie about my envisioned optimal job, while writing down the weights of the patients in the log book.  The girl standing on the weighing scale, the log book tells me, is the same age as me - 27. She’s a pleasant looking young woman wearing lovely eyeliner and a nicely styled Abaya. I wonder of all the other 27 year olds, myself included, and their routine struggles, this one’s issues take on a different dimension altogether given her almost daily dialysis routine.

In a mere instant I glance back at all my problems in life that presumably begin and end with the USMLEs – problems I have chosen for myself. How every doctor I know in my age bracket is worried about the USMLE exam; how our day begins and ends with the thought of the number of hours we are able to study; how much we will score; how many publications and international electives we have under our belt; above all, whether we will match or not; how, if we don’t match, our life is going to end. I realize every day we are stressed about the future - to the point that we fail to enjoy the present.

Here’s a patient, a woman my age, having to come thrice a week for dialysis, and smiling through it, accepting it as part of life - she is truly a winner.

That moment changes my perspective.

Now, I continue to work here. In one week’s time I find myself talking to these patients about more than their illnesses. I really hear them out. I also enjoy the view outside the ward I work: both early mornings and sunsets. The greater part of the city outside that I can glimpse from the ward gives me a sense of tranquility. And in all those observations I realize I have found a sustainable happiness, regardless of the uncertainty my future holds.

[from Narrative Medicine]

CREDITS:

About the Author: Dr. Natasha Khalid is a graduate of Class of 2013, Jinnah Medical & Dental College. A doctor by profession and writer by passion, she is currently stepping while working. She aspires to become an internist. In a parallel life, she has been a writer for 5 years and regularly writes for newspapers, magazines and blogs. She believes that one day, music, medicine and the arts will save the world.

About the Reviewer / Editor: Dr. Kanwal Nayani, AKU MBBS Class of 2015, is currently working at AKU as a Research Associate. She is interested in pursuing a career in Pediatrics.

Editorial Note: This is from a series collected as part of the Narrative Medicine Workshop at AKU on January 20^th, 2016. The editorial work was performed by The Writers’ Guild, an interest group at AKU, with the purpose to promote love of reflective reading and writing, within and outside of AKU.

DISCLAIMER: Copyright belongs to the author. This blog cannot be held responsible for events bearing overt resemblance to any actual occurrences.