Many of us have fond memories of our family doctor. I remember my doctor, in his crisp white trouser and shirt, looking fresh and energetic at all times of the day. I remember his firm handshake and the way he examined me thoroughly using his hands and stethoscope. His persona was one of the reasons I pursued a medical career.
As a medical student, we were taught principles of examining a patient. Touching the patient to examine the concerned part of the body was an important tenet. During neurosurgical residency, our teachers hammered into us the importance of observing the patient and using our hands to do neurological examination, till it became second nature.
A human touch makes you comfortable. The touch of a doctor clinches the diagnosis and reassures the patient and gives him hope. The advent of modern diagnostic tools like Sonography, CT and MRI, did nothing to reduce the importance of the hand of a doctor.
Covid-19 changed everything in our practice. We are seeing only emergency cases. We are avoiding the typical closed, air-conditioned consulting room. Patients are seen in large, open areas like the casualty, ward etc.
The doctor and the patient are wearing masks and may not recognise one another in a different setting. In India, it is not unusual to have 2-3 relatives accompanying a patient. These corona days, only one healthy, young family member is allowed. A safe distance between doctor and patient is maintained. Physical examination is kept to bare minimum and gloves are worn.
But, we do miss the chat in the clinic, the bonhomie with the patient and family, the thorough physical examination and the good-bye pat on the shoulder. As a surgeon, I long for the day when we can see unmasked faces and give our patient a confident handshake with an un-gloved hand.
The sorrow does not end here. My social distancing continues even in the comfortable environs of my home.
A wake-up kiss and hug for the wife is gone with the current winds. Both of us are doctors working in corona times, she being a microbiologist at that!
My dear mother is finding it hard to understand why I don’t enter her kitchen and do small talk with her. Sipping filter coffee, perched on her kitchen platform and discussing simple, trivial issues has been a long honoured tradition and now she misses that.
I am no different from most Indian males of my generation when it comes to relationship with my father. It has always been conversation related to politics, economics and national interests. Matters related to the family are always routed through my mother, exploiting her skills at dilution. Physical contact is limited to an occasional hug on special occasions like birthdays and festivals. This March, he celebrated his 73 rd birthday with a home-baked cake and did not get any hugs and kisses from his children and grandchildren.
My son is now a strapping, young gentleman who shares or rather raids my closet and uses my shirts, jeans and shoes. He has been banished from my room and asked not to use my clothes anymore. He is not allowed on the sofa in the living room, which is reserved for my wife and me. Watching television is also strategically planned to keep distance. No more high-fiving and no more chest bumping and no more swigging from the same bottle of cola.
At the risk of sounding cliché, daughters are special and mine is no different. She gets away with murder with her smile. Watching her board the school bus and saying good-bye to her every morning makes me anxious. She shares her hugs frugally and the weary, tired feeling after a long day disappears. She ruffles her hands over my receding hairline and makes jokes which would otherwise hurt, but with her, everything is forgiven. It has been more than 7 weeks and I have not kissed or hugged her. It sounds silly, the world is facing one of its biggest challenges, but for me, one kiss on the forehead of my daughter is all I need to heal.
I know very well my duty as a doctor and will do it forever. But, this is new. Health care workers are either staying away from home or keeping strict distancing at home in order to minimise the risk of exposing our families to infection. It does take a toll on our sanity. “Aye duniya..Jadoo ki jhappi de daal aur baat khatam” The second wave is no different and has hit our country hard. The frontline workers are still missing the warm touch of their family.