Identity Crisis !

A light hearted write up about a recent experience -   M S Raghunandan

While attempting to grind some stuff in the kitchen a few days back, my wife had

some misunderstanding with the mixer/grinder and as a result, the tip of her right

middle finger was divided into four. Or, maybe, more! I haven’t made a close

examination. We had to rush to a hospital and after both Ola and Uber took us

for a ride, I managed to get an octogenarian rickshaw driver to take us there.

He traversed gingerly through the rush hour traffic for sometime and then his

rickshaw brokedown. With some difficulty, I managed to find another rickshaw

driver willing to go in the direction of the hospital and we reached there in due

course. The emergency section attended to the wound without delay. A picture

of the finger was taken and sent to the plastic surgeon. The plastic surgeon

said that he would repair the finger in his out patient room, the same morning. 

We were asked to report to the plastic surgeon’s OPD on the first floor.

“You contact the reception sir, on the first floor, and they will guide you.” 

The counter on the first floor guided us to the second counter and the

second, to the third. A grim faced indifferent lady who seemed to be

disinterested in everything around her, and who seemed to have taken

a vow never to smile in her life, asked me to self register using something

like an Ipad which was on the counter top. I registered, paid the fee, was

handed a sheet of paper and  asked to handover the same to the staff in

room No 20. We were supposed to consult the plastic surgeon Dr Prasad. 

The door of room 20 was shut. We sat on a nearby seat and waited for the

door to open. It opened after about 20 minutes. I handed the sheet of paper

to the person who opened it and enquired if Dr Prasad was available. I was

told that he was in and asked to wait. The sign on the door said ‘treatment room’.

People with their limbs swathed in bandages arrived on wheelchairs at frequent

intervals and left swathed in fresh bandages. My wife sat holding her hand high

with the injured finger pointing to the sky.

I could get occasional glimpses of the interior of room 20 when the door opened

to admit and discharge wheelchairs. There were two examination tables separated

by a curtain, a gentleman in dark blue scrubs who seemed to be in charge, two

nurses and a person who looked like a helper. Other uniformed staff entered and

got out at regular intervals. I assumed that the gentleman in dark blue OT scrubs

was Dr Prasad. 

After an hour this gentleman in blue scrubs came out of the room to speak to a

patient who was waiting on a wheelchair, and I got a chance to read the name,

embroidered on his chest. It said, Dr Shivaraman, Consultant, Surgery. I was

confused. We had been waiting for more than an hour for Dr Prasad who was

expected to be in the room and the room only contained Dr Shivaraman! After

another twenty minutes one of the nurses came out on some errand. I managed

to gather her attention for a few seconds and asked her if we were going to see

Dr Prasad. She said “Yes. I told you he is busy, please wait and he will see you”

and she shut the door on my face. But, as I could see, there was no Dr Prasad in

the room, unless he was hiding under a table or behind a cupboard. My confusion

and anxiety went up by a step. 

Another half an hour later we were called inside.  Dr Shivaraman removed the

temporary bandage, washed the wound, examined it and explained to

us - the status of the injury, possible treatment and the expected outcome.

He told us that he would suture the wound under local anesthesia and it would

take about half an hour to do it. He asked us to wait till he finished his appointed

cases which was expected to take about 30 minutes. He seemed knowledgeable

and confident but he wasn’t Dr Prasad ! That got me worried. 

We were told to meet Dr Prasad, were informed that he was present in the room,

and that he would attend. But there was no sign of the elusive Dr Prasad and this

Dr Shivaraman had taken over ! Nobody seemed to have the time and patience to

offer any clarification. I knew that sometimes it so happens that when a senior

consultant is busy, his juniors would start working on a case and the senior

consultant joins later. So we just waited. 

A little later my wife was called in, Dr Shivaraman injected the local and started

working on the wound. He was keeping my wife’s attention diverted by some

light hearted conversation. I understand that while talking, my wife informed him

that I was a dentist and he called me in. He explained the procedure to me once

again, showed me what had been done, and why he had opted for the same. He

then asked us to wait in his consulting room for completion of formalities and

further instructions. 

I was impressed with his work and in general was satisfied by the way things

went. But I wasn’t happy with the switching over of the attending consultant

without information to us. I felt that it wasn’t fair and decided to make a

mention of the fact in the feedback terminal which I had seen next to the

registration counter. This matter had been bothering me all the while. But first,

we had to meet Dr Shivaraman in his chamber. 

We did not have to wait long. He was with us within a few minutes. He gave

detailed instructions regarding dos and don'ts and wrote out a prescription.

Then he asked if there was anything else that we wanted to know. I got a

chance to clear my doubt from the horse’s mouth. I thanked him for his help

and mentioned  that we were expecting Dr Prasad to attend. He looked puzzled

and said “That’s right. I am Dr Prasad !”.  I borrowed his puzzled look, put it on my

face and pointed to the embroidered name on his chest. “Oh that,” he laughed

and said “our OT scrubs get mixed up sometimes and we don't find our own scrubs. 

We don't bother about it and wear anything that fits us.” 

I explained the anxiety and apprehension experienced by me due to their casual

approach towards OT scrubs and he laughed again. “Please look at my work and

not the name on my dress. See me after three days for a change of this dressing.

I will see if I can find my OT scrubs by then!” and he walked out of the room before

I could say anything else. I wanted to tell him that thank god, only the scrubs get

mixed up in the OT and not patients. But I did not get the chance !

PS : The finger is healing satisfactorily and we are hoping that the next hospital

visit, due after three days, will be the last.