Now yet again another note of annoyance and quetch !
The previous week one morning sans the customary cups of hot strong tea, I drove to the hospital.
I was at the Cosmopolitan Hospital for a general physical check up. Fondly known as “executive check up”, considering the decent amount that is charged for the marks on ones physical status.
The procedure through the withdrawal of blood, urine, ECG and X-raying was swift and well conducted. Then came the check on the main engine or motor! The cardio specialist was perhaps in his early forties and well built. A handsome doc who I’m certain turned many a female heads while during his Medical school days. He was quite busy and loaded. But was swift and quite efficient in his physical check on me. He ensured my blood pressure reading was accurate by repeating the process thrice and he did the check himself. He did not ask the nurse to strap the BP apparatus on me. He told me that the diastolic and systolic values were quite identical on all three occasions. His rapid fire questions on my life style and hereditary appendage was over in no time. I guess he smiled inside when he heard my reply to his enquiry on my intake of spirits. Did he strike a chord, a rapport in my answer-“brothers in arms”, perhaps! He was very quick and efficient with the Echo test which he did himself and again did not ask the nurse or someone else to perform. He gave me his interpretation of the test forthwith and did not show any air of secrecy and ‘why should the patient know” attitude of some physicians. He sent me for the TMT and it was done by another person. His summing up of my test reports was quite friendly and well analysed. He was quick as time was a premium factor for him. But at the end one felt a sort of comfort that one was to a physician who takes his job and the person who visits him with the necessary attitude, however cramped he is for time.A relatively clean chit vis a vis blood and urine samples they tested.
The nurse then sent me to a general Physician, and I still cannot understand why the heck she wanted me to meet that fellow.
He was in his sixties and not for once did I recall him look at me in the face. He perfunctorily set the stethoscope on my chest and withdrew it immediately as if something stung him. He threw a few questions at me (that sounded like out of a recorded tape dictation) even without taking a glance towards me. I wonder if he knew I was a man or woman. He seemed to be a person quite fed up with his job or was he not, was it indifference?
I wonder if doctors cannot see the necessity to receive and look the patient in the eye, what kind of analysis, diagnosis can happen? And can visits to such physicians erase ones apprehensions even if the verdict is all clear? Doctors seldom deem it necessary to explain the diagnosis or the treatment procedure to the patient even in the language a lay person can comprehend. Some doctors keep an air, and they disapprove or frown upon any questions regarding the diagnosis, prognosis or the medications they prescribe. And asking any can evoke response and disquiet severe than the hullabaloo ignited by the WikiLeaks.
In the final summing up, I have a clean chit apparently, and the vehicle can move on.