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Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Dial Code 212 - Dr Anil Khetarpal Speaking

I love my room; the four-walled quarter, placed next to the dialysis unit in the second floor of my hospital. It has sheltered me in most exhorting hours, and in the most mundane moments as well, without changing its typical heart-warming feel. It houses some of the most sophisticated machinery required to manage an oddball personality; it has a small library, an equipped computer system with attached paraphernalia, a sofa-cum-bed, a small refrigerator, a designated space for visitors to sit and hold communication with me, a worship corner and a LCD projector system. Many a times, I have spent hours in my room, my sacred space, mugging over the theoretical intricacies of a complex clinical case, gulping down cans of red bull. The room has witnessed a spree of interviews, a binge of professional meetings with proficient peers and a fling of day-to-day customaries that we, doctors, are so used to of. This is the place where some of the most brilliant ideas have blessed my mind and where, often enough, I have been able to hold very satisfying soliloquies. I have found that late evening hours are the best when it comes to my imagination nerves; in accordance, I keep meetings with some of the best brains in these hours at my room. I don’t know whether I am addicted to my room or it has gradually become an extended home to my soul, but I miss it when I don’t step in for a couple of days.

Not many folks are aware of the well shielded identity of this room; many think it to be another private room meant to be occupied by a patient, for many it’s the doctors’ room. I have followed the measures to make sure that room doesn’t get unnecessary highlight, so that I may experience self rendezvous moments without much interference. Here, at this place, I try my hands at writing blogs, watching youtube videos – mostly surgical ones, preparing powerpoint slides, fine tuning the hospital functioning, catching an occasional day time nap between the strangulated schedules of surgeries and appointments, collaborating with my peers, opening the cork of a fizzy cola and what not. I have learnt some of the most astonishing discoveries about myself, sitting in my room, watching out of the stellar window, that so beautifully gives a close view of Delhi Metro.

I have spent countless nights in this room to ensure a 24 hour clinical vigilance to my patients. Many old patients are well aware of my room’s location and don’t hesitate to knock even in the oddest hours. They bear this unwavering faith that they would be helped by me in my capacity, and I make sure to give this trust factor a shot of steroids every time. I feel a divine connection when I am with my patients, listening to them, examining them and offering them treatment. My room has witnessed riots of laughter and rebellion of tears, with equal ease, without getting corrupted. To the less enlightened ones, 212 is the extension code of my room. Enter with faith and hope and come out smiling.

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