Friday, 20 February 2009

Lovey-dovey gobbledygook

I cannot believe I actually missed posting on Valentine’s.
Nothing gives me more pleasure than enlightening people on the grossly over rated feeling of undying love and I let ‘the day’ pass by without even thinking about posting once, all credit to my awfully boring yet busy life.

So I am going to post on it now.

For those of you ‘Valentines’ out there who have no sense as to the nonsense behind the February 14th, this blog takes great pride in enlightening you with the fact that you celebrate by coochie-cooing shamelessly the death of disillusioned young martyrs
– For further details ask the all knowing google or you can also resort to wikipedia (where you get to read what smart people want you to read).
If you think I actually went through the trouble of researching on the history of Valentine’s Day for the sheer pleasure of enlightening you with its insignificance – you are mistaken because I have not become so jobless (as yet!)

Frankly, I have nothing at all against Valentine’s – personally.
I have celebrated quite a few – I have had my share of memorable ‘moments’ with bright red wrapping paper, red roses, boxes of chocolates, midnight calls…
I am not sour.
I just think it is immature.

I know of people who think it is immature only because they are single.
I do not belong to that group.
I know of people who think it is immature because they are lazy to go buy gifts.
I do not belong to that group.
I know of people who think it is immature because they are awfully jealous of the awesome expensive gifts their friends have received and they have not.
I do not belong to that group.

I think it is immature because I actually think it is immature, not because I am sour.
Personally, I think it should be celebrated by kids – such immature crap is very typical of them (if you are unaware of my feelings towards miniature human beings kindly read my post on Babies)

Valentine’s is pretty much like Friendship Day or Mothers’ Day or Fathers’ Day – not only do I almost always forget it, I honestly think it is pointless remembering it.
You ought to value friendship everyday of your life – tying a stupid ugly band around your wrist is not going to strengthen any bond.
As far as Mothers’ and Fathers’ Days are concerned – children walk all over their parents every day of the year, one more day of it is not going to make much of a difference. If anything they will laugh at your sudden change in character if you don’t walk all over them.
The last thing I want to hear is my mother asking me whether I am feeling okay when I tell her I love her on Mothers’ day.

So here we have a couple Mr A and Ms B.
All they do is fight – which is quite ordinary for any couple.
At midnight Ms B starts crying and making a big fuss about Mr A not calling her up to wish her at the stroke of midnight. After a couple of hours of struggling not to mention about Mr A’s affair with hot and sexy Ms C, Mr A finally manages to get Ms B to give him a break (because after all it is Valentine’s)
And then comes the complaining about how the gifts were a disappointment, how dinners were missed, how dates were not kept, how the first Valentine’s was so different from how it is now, how things have changed, how everything is a humongous disappointment only because some fool somewhere decided February 14th was supposed to be dedicated completely to the person you have disillusioned yourself into believing you love.

Valentine’s is just an opportunity for:
- females to make a fuss
- cowards to propose
- single losers to feel lonely
- rich people to throw around money
- others to save money for gifts that go down the drain few years down the lane
- communication networks and greeting card companies to make a lot of money
- And the rest of the world to drown in the illusion of love.

I think it is immature.

If you believe you love someone, drown in the feeling everyday – you really do not need Valentine’s.
If you are not currently under the delusion of love – thank god.

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

History mystery

“In 90% of cases a correct diagnosis can be made with the help of a well elicited history alone”.

Two words – that is all I have to say as a response to this overtly over used statement in Medicine.
You can use your imagination to figure what those two words might be.

Almost a month since my Medicine posting began and I have learnt that histories elicited always has loop holes – always! No matter how many times you go over it and think of the wildest questions to ask, the history is never ‘well elicited’ – which I think is precisely why histories don’t really diagnose 90% of cases.

For my first case discussion I had a patient who clearly explained to me about how he came to the hospital with cough and nothing else. But apparently he came in so breathless he was blue. I asked a hundred times (and I am not exaggerating) about whether he had breathlessness – the answer was always ‘No’.
But on the day of my case presentation when the doctor badgered him about whether he had breathlessness the ‘easily manipulated’ patient completely agreed on having breathlessness which left me with a history worth zilch.

Incorrect history with chief complaint gone wrong – when you have this on your hands it is quite specifically the right time to commit suicide.

For my second case discussion my history was ‘incomplete’ because I did not elicit the history of the exact pattern of ‘waxing and waning’ of the fever the patient had when he was admitted nine months ago. I was apparently supposed to get the day to day, hour to hour history of the fever he suffered from nine months ago. I really do not understand how the patient is supposed to remember such useless (to him) details about his fever when me, being a doctor, cannot remember when I had my last bout of the flu.

Incomplete history leading to inability in reaching a diagnosis only because of the incompetence of the doctor eliciting the history – if you have already committed suicide, do it again.

My third case discussion was a classic. I got a patient who has been suffering from jaundice for the past 30 years and a hernia for 15 years. He had a good memory. My history had everything in it – everything to the point I even mentioned (how, when and why) he scratched his butt every single time he did.
Apparently my history was ‘irrelevant’.
The line between ‘irrelevance’ and ‘incomplete’ is so thin that it really does not exist. It exists only for doctors who are hell bent on giving you a hard time in posting.

Irrelevant history that deviates attention of the doctor from the real complain leading to incorrect treatment modalities – if you have already committed suicide twice, do it yet again.

My fourth case discussion is yet to come, Parkinsonism – in a week's time.
I have faced the consequences of eliciting an incorrect history, incomplete history and irrelevant history.

I honestly wonder what it is going to be this time.
Frankly, I don’t really give a damn.

Wednesday, 4 February 2009

Mind your Mind

Today – bad day.

But I think I am actually getting used to it.
Days are so bad nowadays that even though the next day is worse I don’t seem to actually notice or compare.
The only thing that would really surprise me is if a ‘good day’ came along out of nowhere – wishful thinking.
The idea of a ‘good day’ sounds ridiculous.

"Stop the bickering, you fool" – Didn’t I just take those words right out of the tip of your tongue?! I am a mind reader too now - 'awesomeness unlimited'.
I have noticed that my blog has two new followers.
I think it is coincidental how my blog attracts followers when it is least active and wards off followers when I actually post daily.
I don’t believe in coincidence – so I think it is the lack of posts that attracts followers.
That would be pretty dumb.
But then, people are dumb.
I am glad I have new followers – end of story.

I am going to keep posting – you can’t bribe me out of it!

I have noticed how unenlightening my blog has become – depressing!
Now this is not because I have not been having any enlightening thoughts of late – on the contrary, I have been having plenty.

A week back I was forced to imagine my mind – as a result of someone telling me to mind my mind.
Those of you who have been regular followers would know minding my mind is nothing short of an ‘impossible’ task.
This, precisely, makes quotes such as ‘nothing is Impossible’ and ‘Impossible is a word in the dictionary of fools’ gibberish as far as I am concerned.
- Minding my mind is impossible
- Minding my mind is not ‘nothing’
- I am not a fool.
So I was imagining my mind.
Scientifically, I think, nobody has been able to localize any particular part of the human brain to be the ‘mind’.
The mind is not the brain.
In my opinion, it is like the soul-body relationship.
A relationship in which the brain plays the role of the body in which the mind is the soul – making 'the mind' something we want to believe in even without seeing it.
That is where the teeny-weeny problem comes in.
My imagination does not like things that cannot be visually linked.
Hence I came up with this image for the mind.

Now this image is pretty childish – it is definitely not scientific and I don’t want it to be philosophical.
It is simple – that is all that I am concerned about.
The simplicity is what impresses me – because I think the more complex things are, the more farther from truth they are.

My mind is like a series of doors.
One door leads to the next.
I am unaware of how many doors there actually are.
A stranger is not let in even through the first door.
But an acquaintance might find his/her way to the second door.
Each door opens into a little information about me.
Every friend opens a couple of doors and either stays put or moves further on.
As they move further, they get to learn more and more about my mind, along with me.
No matter how far I let people go there is still a long way till we reach the last door.
All I know about myself is the information that I have from letting people reach the point they have. I know nothing about the information I shall receive at that door which I have not let anyone open yet.
The farther I let people in, the more I will know about myself and my mind.

The only way you can learn about your mind is by letting people into it.

What I am trying to figure out now is what lies beyond the last door?
Eternal happiness, peace, bliss, heaven, redemption – all sound nothing short of hypocritical and unreal to me.

I have a feeling what lies beyond the last door is purer than all of the above mentioned
– It is insanity.

Monday, 2 February 2009

The day the dam broke

I hate final year.
I knew I would not like it.
I knew I might hate it.
But now – it is different.
I know I hate final year.

It has been about ten days since final year has begun – feels like forever though. Final year has provided the following to me in ten days:
1) Free electroconvulsive therapy for my hair to make sure it permanently stays at a strict perpendicular angle to my scalp.
2) Dark circle enhancer to make sure my eyes look like they are disappearing into monstrous black holes.
3) A hunch (thanks to my college bag which contains the ‘essentials of Clinical Medicine’) that would have made Quasimodo look like Prince Charming next to me.
4) A mask like face that would put any patient suffering from Parkinsonism to shame.
5) A mind that is so disoriented that I take more than 30 seconds to respond to a question asking me my name (because I am too busy trying to figure out the ‘medical significance’)
6) All this in addition to the 7:30 am to 8:30 pm schedule after which we are supposed to read every possible book of Medicine and become enlightened overnight.

The day I landed here I was welcomed with the marvellous news of my being posted in Medicine under a Professor who is pretty famous for his ways.
I did not think much of it at the time.

For a person with an imagination as wild as mine I express very little in public. I have always kept my emotions in check – maybe that energy is what is transformed in the form of my wild imaginative skills. As of now, my imagination is on vacation.

Each unit have six people posted. Three out of six have already broken their dams – me being one among them. I hate admitting that I shed tears because I know for a fact that this will only result in satisfaction, if not sheer delight, from the people I am posted under. I do not understand if it is their sadistic nature, frustrated lives or blown up egos that infuriates me the most – all I know, as of now, is that rage is very closely associated with the colour red. Red is the only colour I see when I look at their faces.

It might do me good down the lane. The torture might result in me trying harder – but there is only so much a human can tolerate. I am fast approaching the limit. One of my unit mates has already gone into severe depression and almost had a breakdown a few days back. I wonder when my turn will arrive.

But one thing is for sure – I sure as hell will not let it show to them. I will not knowingly satisfy their sadistic whims. It is going to take them more effort to make my dam break again.

I miss blogging.

If anyone out there had a doubt if I were crazy, I assure them – I definitely am crazy now.
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