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Tribute to the kindest man I have seen

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I was not feeling very well yesterday. It has been this long-drawn cough, cold which had morphed itself into a sinusitis and headache. As soon as I wound up clinic around 1.30 PM, I decided to leave for home. My friend, a physiotherapist had come to clinic and whenever he comes, I hitch a pillion ride on his motorbike till Chengalpet from where I take the train home. But yesterday was not a routine day. Early in the morning, I got a call from the wife of one of my long-term patients and good friend. He had been fighting for life in a critical care unit with complications of chronic kidney disease for more than a week now. He passed away early yesterday morning. This was running in my mind throughout the day. I was conflicted between going to to their home and going home to get some rest. I decided I will go home. I got on to my friend’s motorbike and almost reached Chengalpet. Throughout the ride all I could think of was the man who had passed on and his family. So somewhere just befor...
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Whose story is it?

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He is a thin built middle aged man with balding hair. Whenever he comes to our clinic, he would stand in one corner quietly with his hands folded across his chest and head bent in what I assume is reverence. So far, I have never seen a smile on his face (except yesterday, read on..). I would classify him as quiet, but I never got the mental picture of calmness. Mr. S, is a tailor by profession and has his own tailoring shop in a village near our clinic. He stitches shirts, pants, and women’s dresses. I have heard from our community health worker who makes home visits to follow up on him that he also has some land in which he does agriculture, usually paddy crop two times a year.     Mr. S has type 2 diabetes which is very poorly controlled. I first saw him only a few months ago. He came one day to the clinic with a panic-stricken face and in hushed tone told me that he was coughing up blood since early that morning. After a series of tests and back and forth interactions with ...
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School teachers: the unsung heroes of our stories

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  The 49 th  Chennai Book Fair was a good event. The event was held between 8 th  and 21 st  of January 2026. I visited twice and could not finish seeing all the stalls. I heard of many people there who visited on all the days and still couldn’t complete seeing all the stalls. On the two days that I went, was the book fair overcrowded? I wouldn’t say so. The first time I went alone and spent 4 hours and the second time I went with a friend and spent around 2. Both days the crowd was not too much. Most of the stalls were empty and there were a lot of people cruising the aisle having not decided about entering into any particular stall. There were some with specific agenda, for example, there was a group of people with ochre robes, monks of some order, who were all crowding the spiritual and devotional literature stalls. As expected, the stalls that sold English books and novels had a lot of young crowds. My friend, with whom I had visited the second time knew exactly ...
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Hundred: One

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Some patients give me some of the most unexpected and unique perspectives about my clinical work. Yesterday was a very busy clinic. It was 2 PM and no major drama had happened till then. Mrs. O walked in with her granddaughter. She walked slowly with a mild stoop in her posture, but there was a graceful poise in her demeanour. A gentle smile that was somewhere between a smile of familiarity and a smile of meeting a new person was adorning her face.     “I have a troublesome itch all over my body. I am unable to sleep at night because of this” she said and looked at me with anticipation.    She was a woman of a few words. Many of my patients like talking. They express their symptoms with animated words and exclamations. They throw in a lot of onomatopoeic words like “jilu jilu”, “misu misu”, “jivvu…” etc. Some of them narrate their problems round and round in a loop. They would start with a main complaint, describe it in detail, skip to the next complaint and then to ...
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Futility of debates

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  I have been thinking about futility of debates and arguments. Recently I was engaged in a debate. It is still ongoing. I will explain the details of the debate first and then write my thoughts on futility of arguments.   In early November I attended an ethics committee meeting. (I am a member in the committee) We reviewed research proposals to decide whether the proposals describe the ethical conduct of research. Specifically, we had to look after the best interest of the research participants in these studies. We had to ensure that they are not being exploited, no harm is being done to them, their rights and safety is protected.  If there are any issues that we identify then we provide our recommendations to the researchers to modify their research in the best interest of the people who will participate in the study.    It was an online meeting of 3 hours. I attended the meeting from home. One of the studies that was proposed was a public health program....
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“Thank you for standing by my bedside in the critical care unit”

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  Mr. V had not come to the clinic in a while. He was otherwise a regular fortnightly visitor. An octogenarian, with a hearty and reverberating laughter, he always brings with him the sunshine when he enters the clinic. The white hair, thick white moustache and the wrinkles on the skin on his hands are the only signs that this man is aging, otherwise he is a young lad of 18. He comes to our clinic to get his prescription refill for diabetes, hypertension and a chronic skin condition. Yesterday even before he came in, one of our staff, Mr. V’s daughter in law, dropped by my room to say, “Sir, my father-in-law has come. He recently had a heart attack and was admitted in the hospital. He got discharged day before yesterday and insisted that he will come to see you today. Shall I bring him in?” I requested her to bring him in and stood up to receive him.     As Mr. V walked into the room, I noticed that the usual skip in his step was missing. He was wearing a monkey-cap and h...
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Reflections on a busy clinic

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  Yesterday, I saw a middle-aged woman, in the clinic. She was breathing heavily with a lot of difficulty even as she entered my room. As she came and sat down in the chair in front of me, she looked me in the eye and could not start talking for some time due to the breathlessness. Her main problem has been worsening breathlessness that has now prevented her from even taking small steps inside her own home. She is a person living with diabetes and high blood pressure since 10 years and has been on regular medications. She developed a heart attack 4 years ago for which she was admitted in the government general hospital and treated. She is taking medicines for that too. This breathlessness started last year, and it has progressively worsened over the year.   “I am tired of this breathlessness. I cannot deal with this anymore” she said, broke down and took out a big bunch of thick folders, notebooks and loose sheets of paper and dropped them all on the table.    One of...
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