Jan 1995
On entering the main entrance of Jipmer, one can either turn left and walk to the College with all the Lecture Theatres or go straight right into the crowded corridors of the Obs/Gyn Dept. This is the first day of our Clinical Postings-Obs/Gyn and sharp at 10, after our first 2 lectures, we head here to Madam A's office.
Madam A is a small, petite lady. She may be small in height perhaps but she is every bit the personality we have all heard about. She says something and giggles, and we all giggle, totally humorlessly and totally nervously. As with many people, her reputation precedes her and we have been told that first impressions go a long way. How those impressions are made is beyond me so I just stand at semi-attention, nod and smile aimlessly when she does and look very serious. I hope that counts.
She is also supposed to have a massively good memory hence the need for a good first impression. I try to sort of hide and blend in with the others.Our steths hang around our necks and our aprons are spotless. Our standard OG book, called "Dutta" is NOT by our side, since apparently this is a no-no with Madam A-another benefit of advance warning by seniors and apparently a way to make a good impression, or atleast not create a bad one.
We enter the OPD. This is my first experience of a Govt. Hospital OPD, and boy, is it crowded. And hot. And there is a smell whose origin appears uncertain. It is a slightly sweetish smell, not unpleasant, but not too pleasant either. After a while, like the smell of formalin, I don't even notice it.
The OPD has a couple of big rooms with scattered tables around which the real doctors sit. All manner of forms and papers are littered about. I make out one or two fresh Interns who are also nervy, not because of Madam A, but out of sheer cluelessness. Some Residents sit around looking massively competent and unnecessarily authoritative and the Consultants are in a chamber next door.
There is an examination room consiiting of cubicles separated by green hospital curtains and occupied by hassled doctors and more than hassled patients. All the patients seem to answer to "Amma".
Then there are us. 13 or 14 of us, trying to look confident but failing miserably in the process and looking more like the lost bunch we really are.We keep small note pads by our sides hoping to write whatever pearls of wisdom fall our way. These notebooks are worth more than gold since in the Final Exam, 3 years away, viva questions can be asked from what we hear now. Much of that is not in the books.
The first half hour or so is spent looking lost and trying not to feel overwhelmed. Classmates I've hardly spoke to in the past few months have become brothers in arms. I'm almost the only one with NO knowledge of Tamil so the "lost" feeling is more acute for me.
We are soon spotted by a Resident whose reluctant responsibility is to teach us in the middle of a massive OPD. We are led to one of the examination rooms where someone with a seriously sexy smile/pout introduces us to the joys of a Per Vaginal examination. She seems to have a "Come Hither" look which totally distracts me from what she is saying. Then, it's time for a class on how to take an Obstetric History. The Gynae part of the subject is reserved for later it seems. For some time we will focus on pregnant women and all the problems they can have.
Pregnancy is divided into 3 trimesters and we need to ask some specific questions for each trimester. That's the easy part. The tough part is the asking, since I can't actually do that. So, I resort to nodding cluelessly when someone takes a case and starts our first history-taking class. It's very systematic and I dutifully note everything down.
We listen to a foetal heart sound and it's magical. I feel a foetal head and that's amazing too, especially when I move my hands and feel a kick. I learn that we will need to figure out in what position a foetus lies in the abdomen, what the expected dates of delivery are, what "booking" means with regards to vaccination, and the various idiosyncracies of various potential examiners.
For most, Dutta is a good book. For Madam A, it's not. The technique used to feel a foetus, called "grips" is apparently described in the wrong order in Dutta, among other things. She should see us with Llewelyn Jones, a British book, well written, but quite useless for exams.
If we do not warm our hands and the steth before examining, we fail. (This part is just for show. There are no winters in Pondicherry).
Ditto for not explaining what's going to be happening when we examine a patient and not covering the patient with a sheet or asking for a privacy screen.
It's possible to fail even before touching a patient.
The first clinical morning ends with attendance. It's a nice feeling to marked present.
My first morning as a "Real" Medical student is over but the adventure is just beginning.
On entering the main entrance of Jipmer, one can either turn left and walk to the College with all the Lecture Theatres or go straight right into the crowded corridors of the Obs/Gyn Dept. This is the first day of our Clinical Postings-Obs/Gyn and sharp at 10, after our first 2 lectures, we head here to Madam A's office.
Madam A is a small, petite lady. She may be small in height perhaps but she is every bit the personality we have all heard about. She says something and giggles, and we all giggle, totally humorlessly and totally nervously. As with many people, her reputation precedes her and we have been told that first impressions go a long way. How those impressions are made is beyond me so I just stand at semi-attention, nod and smile aimlessly when she does and look very serious. I hope that counts.
She is also supposed to have a massively good memory hence the need for a good first impression. I try to sort of hide and blend in with the others.Our steths hang around our necks and our aprons are spotless. Our standard OG book, called "Dutta" is NOT by our side, since apparently this is a no-no with Madam A-another benefit of advance warning by seniors and apparently a way to make a good impression, or atleast not create a bad one.
We enter the OPD. This is my first experience of a Govt. Hospital OPD, and boy, is it crowded. And hot. And there is a smell whose origin appears uncertain. It is a slightly sweetish smell, not unpleasant, but not too pleasant either. After a while, like the smell of formalin, I don't even notice it.
The OPD has a couple of big rooms with scattered tables around which the real doctors sit. All manner of forms and papers are littered about. I make out one or two fresh Interns who are also nervy, not because of Madam A, but out of sheer cluelessness. Some Residents sit around looking massively competent and unnecessarily authoritative and the Consultants are in a chamber next door.
There is an examination room consiiting of cubicles separated by green hospital curtains and occupied by hassled doctors and more than hassled patients. All the patients seem to answer to "Amma".
Then there are us. 13 or 14 of us, trying to look confident but failing miserably in the process and looking more like the lost bunch we really are.We keep small note pads by our sides hoping to write whatever pearls of wisdom fall our way. These notebooks are worth more than gold since in the Final Exam, 3 years away, viva questions can be asked from what we hear now. Much of that is not in the books.
The first half hour or so is spent looking lost and trying not to feel overwhelmed. Classmates I've hardly spoke to in the past few months have become brothers in arms. I'm almost the only one with NO knowledge of Tamil so the "lost" feeling is more acute for me.
We are soon spotted by a Resident whose reluctant responsibility is to teach us in the middle of a massive OPD. We are led to one of the examination rooms where someone with a seriously sexy smile/pout introduces us to the joys of a Per Vaginal examination. She seems to have a "Come Hither" look which totally distracts me from what she is saying. Then, it's time for a class on how to take an Obstetric History. The Gynae part of the subject is reserved for later it seems. For some time we will focus on pregnant women and all the problems they can have.
Pregnancy is divided into 3 trimesters and we need to ask some specific questions for each trimester. That's the easy part. The tough part is the asking, since I can't actually do that. So, I resort to nodding cluelessly when someone takes a case and starts our first history-taking class. It's very systematic and I dutifully note everything down.
We listen to a foetal heart sound and it's magical. I feel a foetal head and that's amazing too, especially when I move my hands and feel a kick. I learn that we will need to figure out in what position a foetus lies in the abdomen, what the expected dates of delivery are, what "booking" means with regards to vaccination, and the various idiosyncracies of various potential examiners.
For most, Dutta is a good book. For Madam A, it's not. The technique used to feel a foetus, called "grips" is apparently described in the wrong order in Dutta, among other things. She should see us with Llewelyn Jones, a British book, well written, but quite useless for exams.
If we do not warm our hands and the steth before examining, we fail. (This part is just for show. There are no winters in Pondicherry).
Ditto for not explaining what's going to be happening when we examine a patient and not covering the patient with a sheet or asking for a privacy screen.
It's possible to fail even before touching a patient.
The first clinical morning ends with attendance. It's a nice feeling to marked present.
My first morning as a "Real" Medical student is over but the adventure is just beginning.
Bedside manners! , Reminds me of an anecdote in O & G. we had one prof .DR.DUTTA, a British trained gentleman who took great pain to explain in English for about 30 mins to the ‘kuppamal and muniamamls’ of ours in labor room about the procedure he wanted to do on them and sought their permission, he wanted one of the residents to explain in the vernacular.
ReplyDeleteApparently the resident just said it all in one word, “kuttu kalu podu amma “(lie down in lithotomy), so the bedside manners flew out of the window!
Very Interesting ! Like the gynae part :)
ReplyDeleteI met Dr. Asha many years after I graduated from JIPMER when we were in CMC Vellore for a couple of years before we returned to the US. She had been invited to a luncheon event in CMC but she decided to skip that and come to our house for lunch instead. It was wonderful to see the intimidating Asha Madam sitting on the floor playing wth our 4 year old son. She has an amazing memory and genuine love for her profession and her students.
ReplyDeleteLoved your blog, BTW. You have done what I always wanted to do but never got round to doing.
Gayatri, Batch of 84
Hi Gayatri
ReplyDeleteIm glad you are enjoying this little chronicle. I remember Madam as the bedrock of the OG Dept, a lady whose reputation preceded her, somewhat unfairly.
I had the pleasure of sharing a cab ride with her in Internship and it was a journey I shall cherish.
She also came for my Send-Ups and though I was weak-kneed at the prospect, it went wonderfully well. She was so sweet. I do hope to get in touch with her during my visit to College later
Eagerly awaiting the further chapters....
ReplyDeleteGoodness...that was fast!
ReplyDeleteWill have to update soon now..:)