100% 74

June 26, 2002

A rather peculiar situation had developed in the Gynaec department somewhere

in the middle of 1981. The three new registrars were Kaddu, Mukta Khapre and

I, all of us from the 1974 batch. The new house officers were Wanchoog Dorji

and Lalit Kose, also from the 1974 batch. The new intern was Ashok Taksande,

you guessed it, from the 1974 batch. But the icing on the cake was, that

Deepak Phuljhaley, a student, was also from 1974 batch.

I call that period the department of Gynaecology’s Golden Era. All of us

were classmates, so none of us could really scold each other. Consequently,

late at night, when we had to check the urine output of a postoperative

patient or one with eclampsia, the conversation would go something like

this:

Kose: Aarey! Who patient ka peshaab dekhna bhool gaya.

Wanchoog: Soja bey! Madam to Kishore ko hi pakdegi na!

Result: The registrar (yours truly) had to trudge all the way to the patient

and back, while the house officers and intern were snoring away. It was a

chastening experience and a good cure for my inflated ego.

While this was not good for the discipline, it was a wonderful situation for

cooperation and enjoyment. After the ward rounds in the evening and dinner,

all of us used to gather in the duty room, whether it was our emergency or

not, and play Bridge. Some of my happiest moments were spent there. We also

had proper understanding amongst ourselves, so that if some one phoned from

Wardha, before entering the cinema hall, saying that he had forgotten some

ward work, hey presto, it would be done before Madam spotted the lacunae.

But the funniest incident took place when Karambelkar was on emergency duty.

His unit’s Madam phoned up and asked about a certain patient’s urine output.

Kaddu had not looked at it, but arbitrarily replied that it was one litre.

Suddenly the Madam said into the phone, I think I will drop in and see the

patient myself, as I have some work there.

A panicky Kaddu literally ran to the patient’s bedside. To his horror, the

urine output was only 200 ccs. At that time, there were no plastic bags.

Urine was collected in glass bottles. Kaddu was always quick thinking. He

grabbed the bottle and ran to the toilet. He added his contribution, but as

he had recently evacuated, the total rose to a meagre 400ccs. In this time

of crisis, all of us classmates contributed our mite, and by the time Madam

stepped into the wards, the urine level stood at a proud and magnificent

level of one litre, a monument to our cooperative movement.

It is no wonder, then, that during that period, a posting in Gynaecology was

most sought after by all and sundry, in preference to Medicine and Surgery.

Kishore Shah 1974 (THE batch)

June 27, 2002

I am in India now a days and very very busy in coping with the heat. I have lots

of work to finish within a certain period of time...so...I was deleting all the

messages but could not resist Dr Shah's.

Very interesting situation...but what happened to patient...I hope she improved!

Parvin

Shah wrote:A rather peculiar situation had developed in the Gynaec department

somewhere