There are instances when a doctor feels terribly helpless. Imagine the plight of a family who comes to know that a doctor can do little to combat the myriad of illnesses they are bestowed over. It occurs a lot of times when an occasional case of advanced multiple sclerosis or that of terminal stage of malignancy pops up in the usually serene OPD setting. Medical advancements have been great but nature’s modes are, and will never be, poorly fathomed. It happens most of the times that a family’s faith is shattered when they come to discover that one of their loved relatives is suffering with an illness that has little hope to be conquered. We, the medical practitioners, also find ourselves drenched in the pool of despair in such settings. Hope is the functional steel of the life, and when a person has no hopes left, how vulnerable would his mental state be? Is there a worse emotion in the world than that of an impending loss?
A loss is a very serious occurrence. It is akin to betrayal; the sense of bereavement is something that one would never want to imagine. The race against time serves no real sense to the sprinter; you end up feeling the egg on your face. Had there been an appliance that would have rendered emotional immunity on demand, a lot of worldly problems would have ceased to exist. Care must be permanent, unconditional and supreme when it is needed the most. Nature’s rules are multifarious enough to shake the faith of the ordinary human being; the road to enlightened knowledge has dark tunnels, labyrinthine in course. Would there be a day when we will be able to combat every malevolent illness? Would there be a moment when the world would witness a mass grief-free moment?
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