The flavour of the season: Mango!

I had sworn I wouldn’t write on politics ever again on my blog but I’m thrilled to eat my words now that Aam Admi Party has given both the major political parties a licking they’re unlikely to forget as long as they live, in the Delhi Assembly polls. And just when you thought it couldn’t get more bizarre, we now have all 3 parties holding the door open for one another to form the government. If all that the AAP has managed to do is to civilize the Congress and BJP whose high-pitched snarling has made this pre-poll season one of the dirtiest ever in living memory, it’s worth it. Serendipity couldn’t be sweeter. The BJP and Congress are now referring to each other as (get this!) “friends”, “my good friend”, “my colleague who I hold in high esteem” (insert joke here) and other such wonderful sobriquets. On television channels: the same television channels, the same anchors (who used every ounce of their own lung power to keep the two parties straining on their leashes, in their corners), the same TV audience whose dinner was ruined night after night by these same “friends” who behaved like they’d forgotten to take their anti-psychotic medication before coming out in public.

The most curious outcome of AAP’s win is this new found romance that is amusing the hell out of news anchors and viewers alike. From being a warring couple who couldn’t agree on anything, the two parties now can’t seem to disagree on anything. And they’ve teamed up to try and rush the Lokpal Bill through as well. All this is rip-roaringly funny of course. But the funniest of all is the position that the “mango men” find themselves in; when you make your bed, you have to lie in it. They remind me of a stunned guy with the deer-caught-in-headlights look, suddenly pushed out on stage from behind the curtain before the actual play starts. And the newly married couple (Congress and BJP) are like the real actors who can’t go out there and pull him back. But they can’t come out on stage and begin their play either. The guy who is on stage has gone into deep freeze. The spotlight is on him. The audience is cheering wildly. But the audience is equally confused and scratching its collective head (“Tell me again, what exactly is the guy doing?”) So, nobody knows what to do. Everyone is waiting to see who blinks first. There has been an election but nobody wants to rule, everyone wants to sit on the bench, so there’s no one in the driver’s seat.

This has to be the best make-it-up-as-you-go story.

Excerpt from Chapter 10 of Home with God by Neale Donald Walsch

Why do we have to reach out to you before you reach out to us? If you really are an all-knowing God, then you must know when we need help. If you really are an all-merciful God, then you must be willing to offer that help – without our asking. If we are already on our knees, bent over in utter defeat, why must we grovel even more and plead with you to rescue us? If you are an all-loving God, why don’t you love us enough to help us without us having to beg you?

And while we’re at it, what do you say to those who would tell you, “I have called out to you, and you have not been there! Do you think I have not asked for God’s help? For God sake, why do you think I’m so desperate! I’m so desperate because it seems like God has let me down! I’m utterly deserted here. And I want none of it anymore. I’m done. Finished. Through.”

What do you say to that person, huh?

                I say...

                I want you to consider now the possibility of a miracle. There is a reason why you have not experienced receiving a solution from me, but that reason is not important in this moment. What is important in this moment is for you to consider the possibility that now, right now in front of you, there is an answer. Open your eyes and you will see it. Open your mind and you will know it. Open your heart and you will feel that it is there.

                I say...

                Only if you call out to me in absolute knowing will you be aware that your answer has been given you. Because it is what YOU know, what YOU feel, and what YOU declare that will be true in your experience. If you call out to me in hopelessness, I will be there, but your despair may blind you, and block you from seeing me.

                I say...

                Nothing you have done is so horrible, nothing you have had happen to you is so beyond repair, that it cannot be healed. I can and shall make you whole again.

                Yet you must stop judging yourself. The one making the strongest judgment is you. Others may judge you from the outside looking in, but they do not know you, they do not see you, and so their judgments are not valid. Do not make them valid by taking them on as your own. They have no meaning.

                Do not wait for others to see you as you really are, for they see you through the eyes of their own pain. Know, instead, that I see you now, in wonder and in truth, and that what I see of you is Perfect. As I look upon you I have but one thought: “This is my beloved, in whom I am well pleased.”

                I say...

                Forgiveness is not necessary in the Kingdom of God. God cannot be offended or damaged in any way. There is only one question of importance in the entire universe, and it has nothing to do with your guilt or innocence. It has to do with your identity. Do you know who you really are? When you do, all thoughts of loneliness disappear; all ideas of unworthiness evaporate, all contemplations of hopelessness transmute into the wondrous awareness of the miracle that is your life. And of the miracle that is you.

                And finally, my beloved, I say...

                You are surrounded in this very moment by a hundred thousand angels. Accept, now, their ministrations. And then, pass their gifts on to others. For it is in giving that you shall receive, and it is in healing that you shall be healed. The miracle for which you have been waiting has been waiting for you. You will know this when you become the miracle that another awaits.

                Go then and perform your miracles, and allow your death to be the moment of your greatest glory, not an announcement of your greatest sorrow. Use death as a tool with which to create, not with which to destroy, with which to move forward, not with which to go back. In this choice will you have honoured Life Itself, and allowed Life to bring you your own grandest dream, even while you are living with your physical body: peace within your soul at last.

Six degrees of separation (or A toast to medical transcriptionists everywhere)

Imagine you’re an ill American patient. (Ok, imagine someone you don’t like – hereinafter referred to as ‘you’ – is an ill American patient.) You walk into a clinic/hospital, have your problem addressed, and leave (hopefully, not horizontally). You give no thought to who writes your report, what it contains, where it’s stored, how many people will look at it. You’re the patient, remember? You have enough troubles of your own. In the well-regulated American healthcare industry, you’re a crucial player. Your job is to fall sick and either stay sick or get well enough to fall sick all over again with great gusto. If you can’t fall sick, you can do other clever things like sawing off your thumb, getting shot in a drive-by shooting (formerly a crime, now a sport), dropping something heavy on your foot, dislocating your shoulder in a skiing accident…America is a land of infinite opportunities.

We’ve all heard how big the American healthcare industry is (12 billion US dollars at last count). Apart from you, the industry comprises medical facilities, doctors, non-doctor healthcare professionals, rehab facilities, pharmacies, insurance companies, and laws to govern everyone and everything. But you, dear sick patient, and all your fellow players, will collapse like a house of cards without me because I am the medical transcriptionist. I prepare your medical records and in that short time when I’m doing it, your life quite literally is in my hands. An accurate patient medical record is the link that connects all the dots in the healthcare industry and if there are only six degrees of separation, I’m the healthcare industry’s right arm.

As professions go, medical transcription must rank as one of the most intelligent and most demanding; it requires a wide range of premium skills such as research and logic/reasoning abilities, command over the English language, matchless typing skills, listening skills, medical knowledge in the areas of human anatomy, disease conditions, diagnostics, treatment, and pharmacology, and most of all a focused attention span of no less than a minimum of 7 hours – a minute’s distraction can literally prove fatal to a patient a continent away. Above all, it requires a commitment to lifelong learning. Transcriptionists not only must know almost as much medical language as a doctor, we must also be able to interpret the language of medicine accurately. We should be able to tell, for example, whether the patient needs a pill, a procedure, or a pastor by looking at his BNP. To prepare an accurate medical record and return it to its owner within its deadline, transcriptionists must synchronize all these skills perfectly every single minute on the job.

But despite our skills and technological advances, we still rely on a human voice talking to us from 10,000 miles away, to create a patient record – this is a transcriptionist’s greatest challenge. Though we’re service providers for the American healthcare industry, we actually service a global community of doctors who speak English in their own native tongues. Doctors not only come in different accents, they come in different moods, with varied dictation styles, dictating from you don’t want to know where. After a long tiring day spent listening to other people’s miseries, physicians are not exactly thrilled to dictate them into a recorder; they fumble, yawn, rasp, growl, whisper and sleepwalk their way through reports; regardless of how chaotic their dictations are, what they expect to sign is a well-researched, well-punctuated, grammatically sound medical document – a document that will be referred by their colleagues, filed for insurance claims, quoted by medical personnel, relied on by pharmacies, and hopefully never picked up by a lawyer.

Most times, we take our challenges in our stride and our skills for granted. The nature of our trade demands that we strive for perfection every single minute on the job, and we rise to the occasion more often than not. As medical transcriptionists, we’re acutely aware that our reports are not just about lines and deadlines – they are human stories, most of which are unfortunate and deeply disturbing. When we return quality work to our clients, we’re actually respecting the dignity of a faceless, sick patient. Sometimes, we forget what a vital role we play in patient healthcare and treatment planning and how much doctors depend on us to do their jobs well. What it takes to deliver a 99% accurate report is 110% of ourselves - that's what we bring to our profession every day. That's something we can be very proud of.

"Where's the patient, Ma'am?"

PART I - ADMISSION
"Where's the patient, Ma'am?" the girl behind the desk asked me politely.
"I'm the patient, Ma'am," I smiled.
"Oh...are you alone?" she asked looking around.
"Not if you count the other 10,542 patients you're housing right now in your hospital," I said smiling.
"But why have you come alone? Why didn't you bring someone with you?"
"Because I'm the only one I know who needs hospitalization at this point in time."
"Oh..." she said again uncertainly, "so you're admitting yourself?"
"Surprise, surprise..." I said cheerfully giving her my best grin.
"Are you ill?" She looked worried, like I could be dangerously ill and she wouldn't know.
"No," I said, "just blind...in this eye" I pointed to my right eye.
"Oh!" her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened in terror - like I had told her SHE was blind. "Why didn't you tell me, Ma'am?" she asked.
"I told you just now."
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because you didn't ask me before."
"Madam," she said somewhat irritated at the witless exchange "I don't go around asking people 'Are you the patient and are you blind?' "
"Madam," I said "I don't go around telling people "I'm Aparna and I'm blind."

PART II - INPATIENT
"Where's the patient, Ma'am?" asked the nurse politely as she wheeled in the IV.
I pointed to myself, smiled and waved.
"Oh! Why are you walking around? Can you lie down? Why have you not changed into the hospital gown? Where is your attender?"
"Which question should I answer first?" I asked her.
"Madam, please change your clothes and lie down, I have to start the IV. Please tell your attender to come in. Doctor will come in now and he will want to speak with your attender."
"I'm the attender," I said.
She looked at me like I'd said I'm Mickey Mouse. "You said just now you're the patient," she said accusingly.
"I'm the patient and the attender," I said "Are we good now?"
"Who is with you?" she asked me and she was unnecessarily loud.
"You" I said very softly.
She gave me the I-want-to-hit-you-now look. "Where is your husband?" she demanded and I thanked my stars I didn't have one.
"I don't have one," I said.
"You're not married?" she asked incredulously "But your chart says you're 41!"
"How time flies," I said cheerfully.

PART III - MRI
"Sit in the wheelchair Ma'am, we're taking you to MRI," the bored wheelchair pusher yawned.
"I can walk, I don't need a wheelchair," I said and began walking.
"Sit in the wheelchair!!!" he said firmly, "you can't walk into the MRI room."
"Why not?" I asked perplexed.
He fixed me with a steely glare "Because you might not be able to walk back, you might be unsteady when you come out of the MRI machine."
"In that case, why don't YOU sit in the wheelchair and I'll push. We can swap on the return ride," I said smiling.
"Sister!!" he called "patient is refusing to sit in the wheelchair, sister," he whined.
"Patient is refusing to sit in the wheelchair sister," I mimicked in a soft sing-song under my breath and sat.
"Why would I be unsteady? We're not going on the Ferris wheel, are we? I know what an MRI is, okay?" I grumbled as he wheeled me whistling softly.

PART IV - POST-DISCHARGE
"Where's the patient, Ma'am?"
"I'm the patient, Ma'am" I was at the hospital pharmacy buying supplies for my infusion.
"Oh...so this IV is for you?"
"Bingo!"
"Do you know the infusion will take 4 hours? Why have you come alone?"
"Yes, I know the infusion will take 4 hours and that's exactly why I've come alone."
She looked a little miffed "We encourage patients to bring somebody with them; if something happens, we won't be responsible."
"Believe me, if something happens, you will be responsible and I will sue you," I said smiling.

MORAL OF STORY: Always wear a T-shirt that says "I'm the patient"....when you're going on the Ferris wheel.

Jog, incidentally

The four famous falls of Jog: Raja, Rocket, Roarer and Rani (in order - from left)

The swirling mist that rolls around the four falls

To understand the meaning of futility, you must try to describe in the written word, the beautiful fury of nearly 900-foot waterfalls plunging down in cascading roars – it’s absolutely futile. I’m sure there is a language sans words for everything not manmade – I just don’t know it. It’s not just Jog’s four famous falls but the whole spectacle – the sudden changes in landscape and climate as you near the falls, the sleet rain, the thick swirling mist that covers and uncovers the four falls in a dramatic “now you see me, now you don’t” playfulness that takes your breath away. But Jog is only the destination, incidental to the whole experience of the journey.
 

There’s no better season (and no better reason) to visit the Malenaad region than during the monsoon when nature is renewing herself, and as a side effect, stirring hope in the souls of her audience. The road to Jog gives you one of the most spectacular window-seat views of ever-changing terrain – a startling field of sunflowers dazzling in full bloom, the freshest green of just cultivated paddy fields, dark and broodingly ominous hills turning and running away out of the crosshairs of your camera lens. The scale and beauty of the terrain is enhanced a thousand fold by the silence. The silence touches you deeply – in some forgotten corner of your spirit - and the vastness of the silence stops you in your tracks. No beeps and clicks and horns and mindless chatter - the general jarring cacophony of daily life - nature has pulled the plug in one fell swoop. You don’t need to meditate. You’re part of nature’s meditation. It is in silence that she creates, sustains, regenerates, hopes, and yearns. Nature is constantly doing all of this – in stratospheric proportions: flaming dawns and mellow twilights, rainbows that span the horizon, entire forests in rebirth, brooks and streams that sustain and renew everything they touch for hundreds of miles, thousands of birds migrating a thousand miles uncannily guided by an internal GPS – and all of them perfectly quiet, their movement in their stillness, their grandeur in their subtlety, their imposing majesty in their humility.

In the countryside, nature seems to yawn at Life’s dramas. She simply couldn’t care a hang. “Okay –Lord of the Animal Kingdom - get over it and get on with it,” she seems to say “...and come to me when you’re done.” The thought makes me want to curl up and lick my wounds. It’s liberating to know that there are spheres where I simply don’t matter – in fact, from nature’s perspective, I’m completely irrelevant. A speck in the grand scheme of things. How’s that for a humbling weekend lesson?

At Inchara

Sunset at Chithritha

At Chithritha