Thursday, December 12, 2024
HomeAugust 1-14, 2024When a Doctor is doctored by another Doctor Khwaja Ahmad Abbas

When a Doctor is doctored by another Doctor Khwaja Ahmad Abbas

I am a retired physician. Retired since long; I may not be kicking but I am alive. I turned 86 last March, and was given a surprised birth day party by children, and children’s children. I give deceptive looks and don’t look my age. When people ask me the secret of my deceptive looks, I tell them that in reality I don’t know. Genes, simple diet, a disciplined life and keeping a watch on my waist and of course, good medical care. Take your pick whichever you fancy. I also caution them with a humorous wink, to be careful and not to admire my looks a little too much because of Nazar, the evil eye!

Recently though, I had a scare – I had a brush with the Covid 19. With very good care by a doctor friend, who assured me that I may survive and not develop any complication of the dreadful virus. I improved in no time with friendly care and compassion. In the last many years, because of so many ailments, some very serious and scary, I have consulted scores of doctors not only from Pakistan and but also from abroad. They come in all shapes and sizes, manners and behaviour, competence and compassion, or the lack of it.

Of course, most doctors are good, but some not so good and some are bad doctors – oops pardon me. Spanning over twenty years, my experience as a patient is interesting and instructive, especially for the young budding medical students, who are desperate to enrol into a medical college, with their clichéd oft repeated answer that they want to serve the ailing humanity!

Humanity apart, what is the actual lure of being a doctor?

No doubt Medicine is a fascinating profession, described as noble and respectful, and gives good status in the society. There are many opportunities available to serve humanity and to genuinely take good care of patients. However, the lure of making money, and lots of it, is strong. Medical profession demands knowledge, skill and proper attitude and a dignified behaviour. I have seen a young doctor giving advice to a patient while smoking!
Whenever I go to see a doctor, there is the issue of payment of fee – to pay or not to pay? In good old days, professional courtesy was the norm, and doctors did not charge each other. Now there is confusion. Some doctors expect or even demand fellow medical colleagues for their services, others don’t. And you never know the expected, however, I always insist for the payment. Some colleagues perhaps considering my grey hair even return the amount paid.

Coming to a bad personal experience, I had a chronic gastric problem called gastric reflux since long. One day I suddenly suspected that I may be developing cancer of the gut. My physician assured me that perhaps there was nothing much to worry. Not satisfied, I went for second opinion. I was referred to a GIT specialist working in a well-known reputable hospital. With appointment on the special day and time, I reached the clinic before time. I had to wait for two hours to see the great specialist. With phone in one hand, without looking at me he grabbed my file and declared that he knew my case.

I explained my concern and why I was there. Hoping that at least he would put his hand on my tummy, feel for a possible growth in abdomen and to allay my concern, perhaps he might have advised rectal examination at a later date. No sir, not a chance! He did not touch me but advised few blood tests and sent to the radiology department for Isotope imaging of the gut and colon. Properly undressed I was made to lie in the tunnel of the MRI machine. The shy young technician looked at my ugly and shrivelled buttocks and put a tube through my anus, sliding it as far as it will go. He then pushed some isotopic liquid into the tube followed by air with as much force as my colon could put up with. He kept asking if it was hurting. I kept answering no, though it was painful but bearable. However, the climax reached when the abdomen became inflated and looked like a balloon.

I, somehow managed to put up with the journey in the MRI tunnel. As I got off the tunnel, I had a strong urge to empty my bowel to get rid of the un- welcome isotope. Unable to hold back I relieved myself in and around the toilet seat, soiling everything including my clothes.
Post Script: Next day I collected the report myself, found it OK. I never went back to see the great specialist.

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

RELATED ARTICLES
- Advertisment -spot_imgspot_imgspot_imgspot_img

Most Popular

Recent Comments

Naheed Malik on Sons of the Soil!
Abid Ali Khan on Sons of the Soil!
Alaf Khan on LETTERS
Naheed Malik on Head Aches
Saira Bhatti on Head Aches
Abid Ali Khan on Head Aches
Muhammad Waseem Siddiqui on Prof. Zafarullah Chaudhry passes away
Naheed Malik on Being a Medical Doctor
Irfan Talib on Being a Medical Doctor
muhammad Irfan Talib on Being a Medical Doctor
Tariq Mufti on Know thy Body
Tariq Mufti on Social Media Disease
Imran Rashid on Life begins at eighty!
Saira Bhatti on Know thy Body
Abid Ali Khan on Social Media Disease
Prof Ghulam Asghar Channa on Functioning of the Basic Health Units
Abid Ali Khan on Biological Clock
Syed Abdullah on Dr. Azam Ali 1966 – 2024
Tariq Raheem on Dr. Azam Ali 1966 – 2024
Ahmed Badar on Prof. Khwaja Sadiq Husain
Munawar Aiz on LETTERS
Alaf khan on LETTERS
Nadeem Alam Zubairi on Thank You Prof. Zafarullah Chaudhry