One size fit all

This picture could have been taken two years ago when Ranjan was in good health, barring the hairstyle I guess but he always came back from his barber practically shorn of all his hair. You do not have to be a rocket scientist to see that he is looking far better than he was a few months ago. Tomorrow we will be going for chemo 9! Then just 3 left and hopefully the word chemo will be removed from our lexicon forever.

I wish medicine was not a series of protocols that had to be followed to the T! I wish treatment was tailored to the patient, keeping in mind his needs, his progress and above all his wishes. If God made each one of us different then how can one size fit all? The new commercial medicine approach reads more like a mathematical equation than a prescription for healing. Hodgkin's Stage II B = 6 cycles ABVD + 3 PET scans! There is no fine tuning. There is no room for listening to the patient. One modern medicine forgets is that true healing comes from within the person and if the patient gives up, then no mathematical equation can work.

Those of us who have experienced the healing approach of the good old family Doctor, cannot but regret the total extinction of this breed. I still remember good old Doctor Agarwal who was our family doctor in my grandparents house in Meerut way back in the sixties when I was a kid. I can still recall his portly presence as he entered the house when called to tend to one of the family. A house servant carried his big black bag. Before going to see the patient of the day, he would sit in the lounge and chat with the elders, have a cup of tea and some snacks. In the course of conversation he would be enlightened about the ailment by someone or the other and ask a few questions. He knew the each member of the family and their idiosyncrasies: the hypochondriac aunt, the stoic uncle, the shy sister in law and so on. He was as much a psychotherapist as he was a doctor and knew exactly what to say to each one to make them feel better. If it was one of us kids who was sick, another was sent to find out if he had opened his bag, taken out his metal syringe box and asked for it to be boiled. Those were still days when the same needle was used over and over again! If that was the case, then we knew we would have an injection and terrified. If not we waited patiently for him to finish his chat and come to us. He examined us and then prescribed some pills or potions. And that was it. Everyone was happy: the parent of the sick child was reassured, the child happy as there had been no painful shot and wonders of wonders the potions worked each and every time.

Today there are very few doctors who heal the person and not a part of the body. There is no bonhomie and comfort. There is no laughter or mindless chitchat. The equations have changed. What we have today is a power game tilted in favour of the doctor. You just have to listen and obey. Should you break the protocol, then you could be in for a dressing down.