Mrs. Pushpa Pant was a self respecting , hard working , middle aged woman , more or less in charge of her body, thoughts and emotions , till one day , the Ladies Welfare Society, of which , unfortunately ,she was the officiating secretary(the real secretary holidaying in France), thrust her into the midst of a very sorry adventure of the medical kind.
Mrs. Pant had grey hair and occasional dandruff. She worried about her two sons who lived abroad. All her medical illnesses could be put down to those two very serious conditions.Hence, when a medical camp("free of cost")was organised for the society ladies, she politely declined.
Consequently, the attendance was poor . The medical personnel , turning out in their workaday best, were seen swatting flies in the empty stands under an impressive shamiana , eating samosas , whatsapping and throwing paper planes at their uniformed colleagues who hurried to and fro, and who had more urgent /important things to do. This augured unwell for the boss's promotional prospects, not in the least "sullying the image of a hardworking department".
Mrs. Pant was called to the air -conditioned office of the President (who also happened to be the boss's wife ) of the said society, made to sit on a chair with a rexine cover that froze at indoors temperature of 15 degrees,and breathe in wintry air which promptly condensed into anxious glittering drops on her freshly conditioned hair.The Lady President herself sat in a white starched saree, eyeing her as a polar bear does baby seal.After 15 minutes , Mrs. Pant emerged into the sweltering sun of a tropical summer, wreathed in the fog of wanton waste of government power and arctic guilt. She was sneezing, and constantly blowing her nose. In view of the scant attendance of the medical camp ("free of cost"), she was strongly recommended to "get herself checked up " and thereby "lead the masses " as befits a hard -working , sincere secretary. In other words, she was asked to present herself as a guinea pig for the newly passed out medical interns and post graduates. First in a line of many other guinea pigs as a matter of fact.
Mrs . Pant , wife of a God and Boss -fearing (in that order) 2I/C, made her appearance at the said shamiyana, at 0930 hrs , where , at the sight of her, the patient -starved interns , grinned and licked their chops, like hungry hyenas , and set to work on her.
When they had finished with her , two months later, Mrs.Pant looked haggard, had lost 25kgs , and had a constantly hunted look about her .Her hair (not conditioned anymore), stood on its end, and she talked in hoarse whispers . Her "case-sheet" looked like the who's who , or rather "what's what " of the illnesses, mild and grave , in a middle aged, Indian housewife. She was diagnosed to have an untreated lump ("Of possibly malignant nature ") in her left breast. Upon protests that she always had the lump, and it never gave her any trouble , the smart lady intern ("Looked like my daughter's age , if I had one ", Mrs Pant would confide in a moment of motherly forgiveness) tut-tutted, looked at her breast from every angle, adjusted the lighting overhead , with her gloved hand , shouted at the orderly outside behind closed door,to "A/C chalao ",and pronounced in frosty tones-"Today it looks innocuous, ma'am, tomorrow it could turn malignant, better get rid of it at the earliest." She might as well be talking of Mrs.Pant's labrador.( Mrs.Pant visualised Tommy being put to sleep, and shuddered)
The said intern also discovered" incipient hypertension" , "primordial diabetes", and "possible cardiac infarct" in her hitherto disease-free system.She discovered patches "possibly tuberculosis(old)" in her clear lungs and fluid in her perfectly working vertebral joints ("possibly due to metastasized malignancy")
It was , as if, like Columbus, the Intern had discovered the Americas , and was not content till she pushed into Klondike and found gold there.She had most definitely "fine -tooth -combed " Mrs. Pant's case , as it began to be called.She was lauded by her superiors and rumours of a commendation began making rounds.
The pristine white , unsullied medical records of Mrs. Pant , now bore numerous unintelligible squiggles in blue and red , starting to look like the log-book of a chronically defaulting soldier, A deserter. She began carrying armloads of pills home each evening , and a book full of newer , more unpronounceable blood,sputum,tests, biopsies and XRays, and MRIs. Her stout heart kept sinking further and further , inching towards her boots.
Mrs . Pant became the mascot or the "poster-girl" of the medical camp.People took her name in hushed , reverent whispers. The Lady President even wrote a short obituary and saved it in her reminders file of the i-pad. Her name was used to threaten unwilling housewives into having unnecessary tests conducted. Blood withdrawn, chests bared(for Xrays and mammography), and various other unnamable parts of human anatomy , examined , recorded, scanned for irregularities and re -examined. The interns had their hands full. They were busier than the regular specialists and , in a short time , became stars themselves , fully competent in discovering aberrations where there were none ,not unlike discovering oil-wells in the aridity of vast deserts.
There was one sturdy voice of skepticism in this babel of medically sound sounds. That was Mr. Pant himself. Having known doctors and their shenanigans himself , he put his foot down , and insisted that Mrs.Pant take a "second Opinion", Which in medical lingo means " I do-not -trust -you -and -am -going -elsewhere-so -f*** you ". He was tired of trashing Mrs. Pant's medicines and rocking a jittery and teary Mrs.Pant to sleep every night , like a baby.
They went to a big city, and a busy hospital. A place where real cases arrived in car loads, and one needn't "create "cases , out of thin air , to satisfy false egos/hopes. The head oncologist had been a classmate of Mr.Pant . He , God bless his soul, took one look at the voluminous file and right in front of their astonished eyes chucked it into the dustbin. On Mrs. Pant's insistence , he examined her and declared her disease-free,hale and hearty, and ordered greasy sweets and salted snacks , her favourites banned for a short tumultuous while in her otherwise staid life.
Jubilant in their newfound freedom from disease, the Pants came back waving the letter written by their friend , the oncologist , who had seen so many real carcinomas , in his line of work , that like a connoisseur ,he could tell the real from fake.
Last heard , the Lady President was "unavailable for comments" .The lady intern , her prospects of a medal , turned to dust; on the contrary faced a real threat of court of inquiry , and a posting to Siachen. Mrs. Pant gave up her secretaryship, and refuses to emerge from the refuge of the bathroom , where she repairs to , whenever a person of a faded shade of medical nature , deigns to pay a visit.
Mrs. Pant had grey hair and occasional dandruff. She worried about her two sons who lived abroad. All her medical illnesses could be put down to those two very serious conditions.Hence, when a medical camp("free of cost")was organised for the society ladies, she politely declined.
Consequently, the attendance was poor . The medical personnel , turning out in their workaday best, were seen swatting flies in the empty stands under an impressive shamiana , eating samosas , whatsapping and throwing paper planes at their uniformed colleagues who hurried to and fro, and who had more urgent /important things to do. This augured unwell for the boss's promotional prospects, not in the least "sullying the image of a hardworking department".
Mrs. Pant was called to the air -conditioned office of the President (who also happened to be the boss's wife ) of the said society, made to sit on a chair with a rexine cover that froze at indoors temperature of 15 degrees,and breathe in wintry air which promptly condensed into anxious glittering drops on her freshly conditioned hair.The Lady President herself sat in a white starched saree, eyeing her as a polar bear does baby seal.After 15 minutes , Mrs. Pant emerged into the sweltering sun of a tropical summer, wreathed in the fog of wanton waste of government power and arctic guilt. She was sneezing, and constantly blowing her nose. In view of the scant attendance of the medical camp ("free of cost"), she was strongly recommended to "get herself checked up " and thereby "lead the masses " as befits a hard -working , sincere secretary. In other words, she was asked to present herself as a guinea pig for the newly passed out medical interns and post graduates. First in a line of many other guinea pigs as a matter of fact.
Mrs . Pant , wife of a God and Boss -fearing (in that order) 2I/C, made her appearance at the said shamiyana, at 0930 hrs , where , at the sight of her, the patient -starved interns , grinned and licked their chops, like hungry hyenas , and set to work on her.
When they had finished with her , two months later, Mrs.Pant looked haggard, had lost 25kgs , and had a constantly hunted look about her .Her hair (not conditioned anymore), stood on its end, and she talked in hoarse whispers . Her "case-sheet" looked like the who's who , or rather "what's what " of the illnesses, mild and grave , in a middle aged, Indian housewife. She was diagnosed to have an untreated lump ("Of possibly malignant nature ") in her left breast. Upon protests that she always had the lump, and it never gave her any trouble , the smart lady intern ("Looked like my daughter's age , if I had one ", Mrs Pant would confide in a moment of motherly forgiveness) tut-tutted, looked at her breast from every angle, adjusted the lighting overhead , with her gloved hand , shouted at the orderly outside behind closed door,to "A/C chalao ",and pronounced in frosty tones-"Today it looks innocuous, ma'am, tomorrow it could turn malignant, better get rid of it at the earliest." She might as well be talking of Mrs.Pant's labrador.( Mrs.Pant visualised Tommy being put to sleep, and shuddered)
The said intern also discovered" incipient hypertension" , "primordial diabetes", and "possible cardiac infarct" in her hitherto disease-free system.She discovered patches "possibly tuberculosis(old)" in her clear lungs and fluid in her perfectly working vertebral joints ("possibly due to metastasized malignancy")
It was , as if, like Columbus, the Intern had discovered the Americas , and was not content till she pushed into Klondike and found gold there.She had most definitely "fine -tooth -combed " Mrs. Pant's case , as it began to be called.She was lauded by her superiors and rumours of a commendation began making rounds.
The pristine white , unsullied medical records of Mrs. Pant , now bore numerous unintelligible squiggles in blue and red , starting to look like the log-book of a chronically defaulting soldier, A deserter. She began carrying armloads of pills home each evening , and a book full of newer , more unpronounceable blood,sputum,tests, biopsies and XRays, and MRIs. Her stout heart kept sinking further and further , inching towards her boots.
Mrs . Pant became the mascot or the "poster-girl" of the medical camp.People took her name in hushed , reverent whispers. The Lady President even wrote a short obituary and saved it in her reminders file of the i-pad. Her name was used to threaten unwilling housewives into having unnecessary tests conducted. Blood withdrawn, chests bared(for Xrays and mammography), and various other unnamable parts of human anatomy , examined , recorded, scanned for irregularities and re -examined. The interns had their hands full. They were busier than the regular specialists and , in a short time , became stars themselves , fully competent in discovering aberrations where there were none ,not unlike discovering oil-wells in the aridity of vast deserts.
There was one sturdy voice of skepticism in this babel of medically sound sounds. That was Mr. Pant himself. Having known doctors and their shenanigans himself , he put his foot down , and insisted that Mrs.Pant take a "second Opinion", Which in medical lingo means " I do-not -trust -you -and -am -going -elsewhere-so -f*** you ". He was tired of trashing Mrs. Pant's medicines and rocking a jittery and teary Mrs.Pant to sleep every night , like a baby.
They went to a big city, and a busy hospital. A place where real cases arrived in car loads, and one needn't "create "cases , out of thin air , to satisfy false egos/hopes. The head oncologist had been a classmate of Mr.Pant . He , God bless his soul, took one look at the voluminous file and right in front of their astonished eyes chucked it into the dustbin. On Mrs. Pant's insistence , he examined her and declared her disease-free,hale and hearty, and ordered greasy sweets and salted snacks , her favourites banned for a short tumultuous while in her otherwise staid life.
Jubilant in their newfound freedom from disease, the Pants came back waving the letter written by their friend , the oncologist , who had seen so many real carcinomas , in his line of work , that like a connoisseur ,he could tell the real from fake.
Last heard , the Lady President was "unavailable for comments" .The lady intern , her prospects of a medal , turned to dust; on the contrary faced a real threat of court of inquiry , and a posting to Siachen. Mrs. Pant gave up her secretaryship, and refuses to emerge from the refuge of the bathroom , where she repairs to , whenever a person of a faded shade of medical nature , deigns to pay a visit.
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