A day in the life of a doctor’s son

By the time I wake up, dad has already left for his clinic. He has several patients waiting for their turn. 

I remain at home. Time passes by. I am in the middle of my regular activities when someone calls me. Their family member got some disease (likely Corona) and wanted to talk to dad for second opinion. I reply that he’s in OPD and so busy that he cannot take calls. I tell them that if not urgent then I’ll make you talk to him when he’s home, meanwhile please send all reports. 

I go back to what I was doing, and then I receive message from an acquaintance regarding a doctor dying while saving people from covid. I can only be positive about my own home. Dad is 68+, yet he goes to treat so many patients each day. He sits in a PPE with the tightest mask available, so tight that even breathing becomes difficult after some time. For many hours he listens to patients and also talks a lot while explaining things. He only knows where he gets the energy to carry on. 

His designated hours are till 1:30 PM, yet he keeps seeing patients, at times beyond 4 PM. Every patient deserves a certain amount of time, for a fair treatment. Most patients come with a negative mindset and share their shenanigans with him. He listens to what they say, so that it’ll make them feel better. 

Finally he comes home, for a late lunch. Then he changes and takes a bath. Tries his best to keep things clean. Though he had a tough day, never tells anyone about it. Is totally calm and not in a complaining mode. Quietly eats his meals, when a patient calls on landline. He tells the patient that your wife has covid, he’ll message which medicines are to be taken for next few days, and don’t worry he’ll try that she doesn’t have to go to the hospital. After the call gets over, he continues with his meal. 

If there is evening curfew then he stays at home to do things that enhance his knowledge. He’s been keeping himself updated on covid, as new findings emerge and other doctors share their experiences. I can’t keep count of how many people he’s cured from the virus. Not just Jalandhar, also in other cities including metros. Some of my friends now trust his word, even though there are many other competent people around them. 

If there’s no night curfew then he goes to clinic again and works beyond his designated time. 

It’s 7:40 PM and I call my friend who used to live in Delhi. He tells me about his relative who paid ₹50,000 to someone there for a complete course via telephone, which included medicines and one call a day. I really wonder, how much money could dad have made if he did what a few others did? The house we live in, he had to take a bank loan for the same. So many sacrifices he did for the family, but never boasts about it. He’s earned lesser money than so many others. What he’s earned more is goodwill and heartfelt respect.

It’s due to people like him, that some people tell me that humanity is still alive. 

Streets of Hemingway by Arjun Suri