From the Scrubs to the Soul

   You know, life holds the potential to take some unexpected turns. After completing my MBBS degree, I found myself at a crossroads. It struck me that sometimes, it's the small changes that lead to the most profound transformations in our lives. I was working hard, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was working more for the approval of other doctors and the hospital staff than for the well-being of my patients. I slowly started to see how we are influenced by people who we surround ourselves with. I saw my seniors get frustrated with patients, and then I saw myself follow the same path knowing well enough that this isn’t who I wanted to be.

    I visited Sittilingi for one of the Rural Sensitisation Camps. My friends and I looked at it as a wonderful opportunity for a getaway picnic. A 3-day time-off. But the RSP had an unbelievable impact on me, though not immediately. I remember dozing off at points and zoning out. I faintly remember conversations too. But that’s what! I was allowed to do that - I had the space to be me amongst some very senior health professionals. I then had this feeling of coming back to Sittilingi just to be there and work for some time, a thought I couldn’t act upon immediately due to circumstances.

  While doing my bond after MBBS, I felt overworked and mentally exhausted. And that is when I came across the poster of the first batch of Travel Fellowship. I saw it, but couldn't act on it. I only remember thinking, ‘How nice would this be?’ 

  When all my friends were preparing for PG, I didn’t feel ready for the same race. I was scared of becoming the person who yelled at patients from time to time and was dissatisfied. I was longing for a chance to make an informed decision. The Travel Fellowship was unusual, it excited me. When the second batch was out, I took the chance. My parents supported my decision and my friends were happy for me too. I’d like to believe they admired my courage to take this step that felt like just a distant dream for them. I had absolutely no expectations. I had no idea how things worked in low-resource areas. All I knew was that even in this one year of solo travel, I wasn’t alone. People have been working in these spaces for decades. 

-The Blooming
I have been a very quiet person. When I began the journey, I thought I was a complete misfit. I am not a very vocal person in new circles, and in Sittilingi, people are free to express whatever they think and believe. This was liberating and I took my time, a time so generously given for me to open up.

-My relationship with empathy
While talking to patients, I only asked them about their medical history and symptoms, because I felt like everything beyond this was unnecessary. I started with not knowing the true meaning of the word empathy, not feeling any towards patients too, only to find myself halfway through the fellowship, unable to hold back my tears. To my surprise, for the first time crying for others felt real. I wasn’t being empathetic because I kept telling myself, ‘I am in no position to do anything more about this.’ But now, I believe in the power of listening, especially in the most helpless of situations and I could see the relief in their face when they know that somebody is taking their time to listen. I would never learn any of these lessons anywhere else.

-Am I in the right place?
When I was in Jharkhand, I saw how the community was so strong and unified. I walked in and realized I wasn’t the center of attention in the room. I was the only doctor or even a qualified medical professional in the setting, and for days I felt like I wasn’t really needed.

I remember calling my mentor and declaring, “I cannot stay here in Jharkhand, Anand. I am not a part of anything here.” I felt this strongly, but my discomfort pushed me to give it another chance.  

Jan Chetna Manch, Bokaro is not a hospital, but a maternal center because women delivering babies are not treated as patients instead a mother needing assistance.  Every woman is accompanied by what looks like a village of health workers. The OPD doesn’t look like a hospital, it looks like a home. The women come in dressed up in sarees and bangles because they are always so happy to visit us. Even after their medical requirements have been taken care of, they would just stay not wanting to leave so quickly. For them, coming to JCMB is like a day out. No cesarean sections are performed unless absolutely required. The power of patient-centric care practiced here is empowering to say the least.


-Trust and victories
  For 1 month I stood there in the labor room just observing. Then I gradually started to stand by the mother during deliveries. I helped the sisters there and assisted them. This is where I learned about - trust. I saw it build between me and the staff there day after day until I wasn’t a stranger anymore.
  Towards the second half of my tenure, the sisters felt free enough to wake me up from my sleep to inform me about a delivery. My responsibility was to be there for them night or day. I count this as one of my many invisible victories during the fellowship. I also worked on a protocol for neonatal management while in JCMB, an initiative by Dr. Rhea (my favourite pediatrician).  Another victory.
  I also got Covid while in Jharkhand and not once did I feel homesick. I was taken care of as one of their own. When they didn’t hear me cough for a long time, they’d call to check in apart from the calls I received from them every 2-3 hours. The biggest victory, the victory that’s felt in the soul - to love and to be loved. 

I remember a Patti (grandmother in Tamil) coming to our hospital in Sittilingi repeatedly with high blood sugars because she was not able to take insulin regularly. She was also admitted for the same. I visited her home and found out that she and her husband were looking after themselves long after their sons had moved out. They gifted all the land and money to their sons and were left with almost nothing. We then changed her course of medication. They were dependent on their neighbours for certain tasks (including taking insulins) which made many things impossible for them. Only when I visited her home did I realize her problems. Nobody wants to stay sick; everyone wants to feel healthy. This incident has stayed with me, with the lesson of understanding the contexts and stories of the people - especially and most importantly when you want to advise healthcare.