I remember my early days in operation theatres when I used to observe the procedures being done by my professors; it used to give me such a giant thrill those days. I used to observe every single happening in operation theatre with a child-like keenness; the dazzling sight of newly arranged surgical instruments; magic-like burst of rays from OT light, as if the light would heal in itself; the pre-operative fervor in preparing the patient; the penultimate moment before the scalpel touches the skin to make first incision; everything seems so astutely fallen in proper places.
As a child and a youth, the scene in films where they used to depict an Operation Theatre with a room that had a red bulb, an authoritative bulb I must say, used to make me feel the moments of anxiety that relatives of a patient had to experience while waiting outside Operation Theatre with their glances fixed on that red bulb. Even today, I am pretty moved by the relatives who wait outside the Operation Theatre to receive the best news at the earliest. How can one not move by such events? I mean we have our own emotional side, which turns vulnerable at times; and certain virtues don’t loose their sheen with the passing days.
Compassion is a quality that a patient always tries to find out in his doctor, and the moment he sees a hint of that, his faith swells with multitudes. I make it a point to keep the relatives amply updated about the status of their patient who remains inside the ‘red bulb’ territory for this is the next best thing I can do apart from operating the patient in my best skills; I feel this is one small step in making the world a kind place.
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