Among the many cliches that suffocate us is the one about medicine being a ‘noble’ profession. But this well-worn cliche has more than an element of truth. We may accept mediocrity, the need to make money, even corruption from any other professional other than a doctor. When it comes to a physician, however, we expect him to be not only an outstanding professional, but also be humane. In other words, we expect him to be the noble doctor who will care and heal.
I have often heard the argument that doctors are no better than other professionals, and that they too are out there to make money. Of course, they too have to make a living—they have families to support and clinics to run, for which they need money. But that apart, it is ridiculous to imagine that anyone becomes a doctor with anything other than the noble thought that they want to alleviate an ailing human being’s pain and suffering. Have we not seen the number of hours someone studying for medicine puts in and the sacrifices he/she makes for the sake of a medical education? As for a doctor, especially someone practising in overburdened institutes like AIIMS or Safdarjung Hospital, I marvel at the number of hours they put in with little care for their personal life or their own health.
There are certainly bad eggs in every basket, and the medical profession is no exception. But in the course of running a magazine for doctors, when my colleagues and I travelled across this vast country, we have found doctors in remote rural areas tending to the sick and dying at the cost of their personal life, and living in conditions where we would ask them in amazement—‘But why doctor, why do you live in these Naxal-infested areas so far from civilisation?’
I am talking of people like Drs Prakash Amte and his wife Mandakini Amte, who live in remote Gadchiroli, working with sick and ailing tribals. Prakash Amte is the son of Baba Amte. Prakash’s mother says she wept when Baba Amte decided that the medically trained Prakash should serve the tribals in Gadchiroli, for there were no facilities of any kind there. I am not up-to-date with the developments that have happened there, but even 10 years ago when I went there to meet the couple, there was only Prakash and his wife who ran a clinic, treating not just tribals but even Naxals. His argument was, as a doctor he had to treat anyone who was sick and came to him for help. In the absence of any medical facilities, the couple, who are not trained as surgeons, have even had to perform surgeries to save the poor or someone with gunshot wounds.
Then there are other doctors like K. Thiruvengadam in Chennai, who will not use any diagnostic tools, but spend an hour examining the patient to pronounce his verdict. There are few diagnosticians like this humble, low-key doctor. Fame, money? These are far from a mind more keen on pin-pointing what ails a body in a way that no diagnostic tool can fathom.
I have met several such doctors like these who have proven that medicine can never be just a profession. That, in fact, it has to be a calling. That you become a doctor because you want to heal and comfort and not because you want to be rich. For that, you could get into the real estate business without much fuss!
(Ratna Rao Shekar was the editor of India’s only magazine for doctors, Housecalls.)
