Wednesday, April 14, 2021.

We started our internship all starry-eyed. Excited to apply all that we have learnt finally to the saving of patients and relieving them of their pain and disease. For many of us who wanted to become a doctor for the sole purpose of being able to serve another fellow being with knowledge, this was the time we had worked so hard for. There was much gusto and zeal in those months. I was also functioning as a temporary teacher to the final year students who came to the hospital for their postings. Teaching has always been a closely guarded passion of mine and the beginning of my professional life couldn’t have had a better start. While this was all happening in a city in Maharashtra, there was something much larger brewing in a city in China. Something that would change the very way humans were going to live.

Deforestation has finally caught up to us. Humans were now fighting a new virus from the zoological kingdom. The amount of misinformation that was rife, makes me laugh when I look back now. There were conspiracy theories that were abound, about the virus being a bioengineered and released intentionally by the Chinese to tank the world economy. It took a while to come to our city in Maharashtra though. We watched on TV and read in news outlets online of the danger it presented. I remember very little of the freedom we had then. Things changed very rapidly. Our hospital was declared as the district’s official civil hospital and we bore the brunt of healthcare of the entire district, as young, undertrained doctors.

Working almost 14 hours a day, somedays skipping meals altogether, our “zeal” and “passion” were truly put to test. We walked back to our rooms with aching backs and tired legs and only thought about our beds and the heaven they were. But it was never enough. Before our bodies could recuperate, we were back in the wards, the next morning. The nights a haze. I’ll be honest, it was difficult somedays, to even push myself off the bed and go to duty. But I never missed a single day. Never took a day off in the year. The only thing that kept me going was not my passion anymore. It was the love that was reciprocated by the patients, to my care. I was showered with so much affection everyday that it became the sole reason of me getting up every day.

I remember a 42-year-old woman who was admitted for uncontrolled BP in pregnancy and was up for an abortion to get her BP down. She told me I reminded her of her son and she worried about my health and meals every time she spoke to me, like a mother would. Why wouldn’t I love my work? My work loves me back, literally!

There have been countless such patients and their caregivers who have given me love. And I remember each and every one of them. I’ve received, as tokens of love, countless items of maybe little monetary value, but priceless in their sentimental value. I’ve been offered the best home-cooked biryani, lamb, banana chips, home food and even jalebis! My favorite part of my job is talking to the patients and their relatives. These conversations have changed my life profoundly. It has taught me values of a work ethic, of punctuality, of dedication and most importantly, self-belief. I’ve always been someone (and my friends would agree) who has been crippled by self-doubt always. But hearing my work being appreciated has taught be value myself fairly and give myself the appreciation I’m worthy of. This has helped become a more confident practitioner and in turn, has bettered my professional interactions and output. The pandemic year coinciding with my training year (and my first year, as a doctor) was something I’ll look back on and keep realizing was of immense value. The effects of which I’m sure I’ll keep feeling throughout my professional and personal life. I have so many stories to tell! Going to, soon.