The Making Of A Doctor

The beginning of third semester at college is marked by a lot many changes—the most prominent & exciting being the commencement of clinical ward postings—which is basically what this piece of paper is filled with…

Now, just the idea of going to “The Hospital”, in sparkling white aprons- with steths around the neck to complete the picture- is enough to make you feel like half-a-doctor.
And add to that, the sense of freedom which comes with the posting-timings!!! You already feel high, as if on dope!!
The friends, the bikes, the open roads of Sardarpura….
Finally, a whole new world of juice shops and cafes opens up around you. The city becomes your canteen and hanging around these joints a routine.

So then, after a hearty celebration of this new-found independence over a cold shake & a samosa, you decide to head for the hospital !!

As you reach about an hour late for the clinic; you realize that the hospital is no joke & finding your way to the department is a Herculean task in itself.
And oh! Amidst all this confusion, when you yourself are lost in the buzzing activity of the hospital with stretchers being hurled around & people pushing you all over the place, you are stopped by a couple of attendants (or sometimes, an occasional patient), asking you the directions to the “orthopedics department” or else whereabouts of a certain physician who seems to have gone on a long vacation !!
This is where a sense of helplessness creeps in, & you try to explain to them that you are as new to the surroundings as they are. The attendants leave, giving you a look of disgust—as if saying-- “Why the hell carry that steth around, when you haven’t a clue!!”

Well, crossing all obstacles & evading any further enquiries, you finally make it to the ward. There you see about a dozen of your classmates, almost as dazed as you are.

You are then asked to go and “take the history” of a case who has been admitted & confined to the ward for days together; & is already irritable with ‘pseudo-docs’ like you trying to comprehend his disease. After a few minutes of inspection and a bit of palpation, he hushes you off by pin-pointing his exact disease & the drugs that he is on. You lap-up all this information happily, feeling like the brightest medical student there ever was…with a smile of contentment brightening up your face.

You decide to present the so-called ‘history’ to the doctor, when to your disgust, you find that it is the in-house resident who will listen to it (‘C’mon.. my first history deserves nothing less than the HOD’, you think!!)

Anyway, as you start presenting the history, you are stopped on the very first line & mocked at… ‘Is this how you present a history…Even a fresher can do better than that!!’,the resident exclaims.
Oh! The humiliation!
‘It’ll be okay!’, you think, & decide to move on. As you read out the words on the paper, you realize what sub-standard crap you have penned down-- & feel like the smallest creature on the planet.
Every word and line seems like a blunder & you wish you had never gone to that patient for the history!
Somehow, you manage to finish through & by the end what remains of the three page ‘history’, which you had so proudly put on paper, is merely a few pronouns and prepositions.

All the mockery done with, you are told to go study a-bit, “or else you’ll never pass MBBS!!” With this, as the resident leaves, the patient gives you a sly smile, as if he knew all along what kind of a quack you were.
You decide on your honour to never ever take a history again, let alone present it in front of everyone.

Finally, the grueling time comes to end with you registering your attendance & rushing back to college for the scheduled practical class, all the while thinking…..
“Will I ever make a doctor??”


- AL (III- semester)