A LOSS SO DEADENING
-Written by Dr. Geeta Sundar
T/W: Death
I write this with a heavy heart. Few moments come by in life, where you have been given an
opportunity to meet someone eminent, well known and who is a pioneer in his field of
expertise, and often times than not, that meeting, that impact hardly gives a second to enamor
you, before it’s snatched out of your hands and you are left wishing for longer minutes with
that person. The moment becomes tender, bittersweet and full of immense value when you
hear about the passing away of that individual.
Here is my recount – I wish I could go back and be more, see more, hear more, but alas, I’m
left with brief, tangled memories and so many versions of great stories and flashbacks about
him I hear from people.
Dr. L was a family man they will tell you, and they will mention how much he cared and
shared, about how much he was as a beautiful well-loved person, as a human being, the
wonderful things he wrote – he was an excellent orator, well versed in over 5 languages, all
fluent at the drop of a hat, and how artistically he published books with poems and his own
little stories, how he went out of his way to help patients, how he schooled his residents into
becoming good doctors, how he performed surgery with finesse and skills, how he stood
larger than the crowd, always singing, laughing, cracking jokes, diffusing atmospheres,
easing health, and joy into the people around him, the way he recited the Bhagvad Gita with
sophisticated practice, and followed those age old advices, how he established his successful
practice, and how he was so much more than what met the eye…
I had the chance to meet Dr. L along many passages, corridors, listening to his booming voice
and childlike laughter fill the walls between us, with usually me being the timid junior with a
small smile and a courtesy nod and voice beneath a breath that hardly made out. I wished I
could chat with him like I spoke to others I knew well. But we never got that chance. But
whenever there came a conference, a function, a ceremony, Dr. L would be there, sharing his
wisdom, orating, talking and singing, sharing with everyone he could, years and years of tips,
of hidden away notes, baring them all to the world.
*
Dr. S was a tall man. Sincere, chic, well dressed, smart, decent, pious, hardworking, full of
humility, tenacity and a man well respected and loved. I met him as a mere kid of 25 (yeah, in
the medicine world, that is still a kid!), lost between the dreaming big and achieving big, my
heart set on neurosurgery, and he was there to show me what a world I was getting into. He
taught me the ropes – neurosciences, brain death, scrubbing in, anatomy and each baseline
step of neurosurgery needed for a fit entering resident.
His work was his worship, he lived by stemmed, instilled ideals and he was never one to back
down. His efforts were humongous, his words soft and kind, and his thoughts carried a clarity
lacking in most residents.
And over the years I had been receiving his wise counsel for my patients and also referring
patients to him. But I met him a year back when everything was still ‘normal’ in his life and
about 8 months crash that chance meeting, I heard about his impending demise.
To say shocked, is the least. What I felt, I can not describe in words. Sad is not enough. Grief
is not enough. It’s a heart wrenching kind of numbing pain that goes miles beneath the
surface of the depressed lopsided smile I brave on my face.
Its.Not.Fair.
Nothing ever is, really, I know. But this, losing such amazing doctors too early is too much.
Gone too soon. #Waytoosoon
You know what hurts me the very most after all this? The fact that their effort – effort for the
betterment of people, of betterment of the universe, of patients, of being such strong willed,
hardworking, individuals, who collectively contributed with ages of patience, of skills, with
hours and hours of sacrifice from food, water, health, sleep and family; who in some way or
the other taught other generations of residents and students, making lasting impressions on
their young minds; are now just, poof, gone!
I wish for justification for everything – what about the hours of study they did – where is that
gone? Where is that energy all succumbed to? What about the losses they suffered – the angst
from their family and friends for missing the important dates and ceremonies – where is the
sacrifice adjusted and by whom? What about the illness and sickness they embraced when
caring for their patients selflessly – where is that compensated?
They are true losses to our humanity. They served a greater purpose than they will ever know.
They stood against time and competed to enhance medical care in each and every way they
knew, overall being responsible for the one big step forward we may create in medicine.
They were the smaller footsteps we step onto when creating a larger masterpiece in the eons
to come. They were the pillars of the medical fraternity we proudly call our own. Their going
has created a void which will take years of their equivalent of dedicated hard work, skill, eye for detail, success and strength to fill, and maybe longer for you and me.
