Happy to borrow this title from Sidney Poitier’s award-winning movie, although in a different context.
As the medical school released the final results, it was time to prepare for actual practice. Since pediatrics was the essence of Family Practice, I decided to delve deeper into the subject during my mandatory internship. Who better than Dr. K. Mohan, my Sir, for the tutelage?
My evenings for the next year were highly productive as I got accustomed to the varying frequencies of pediatric cries of infants, toddlers, and grown-up kids. From hunger, frustration, and distress, to all possible human emotions. In the early days, I wondered why someone would opt for this branch of medicine, let alone work in this cacophony.
The practice of medicine, as we know, is knowledge intertwined with compassion. Sir, you have been a living example of a practical approach – way beyond what is covered by texts and theories.
Sir has repeatedly told me, “Always pay attention to the child’s mother. If she says her child is not well, trust her. Her words are gospel. If not today, the child will fall sick the day after. The umbilical cord connects all mothers to their foetus. Mothers instinctively sense the child’s pulse. Develop the maternal instinct. Strangely, this instinct can be acquired. It sounds paradoxical but can become second nature by repeated exposure.”
I have seen this happening many a time wherein Sir has picked up a crying baby from the waiting room to be examined out of turn. Most of them needed admission as indoor patients for further management – early consolidation, severe dehydration, encephalitis, meningitis, and septal defects, all identified by cries and diagnosed by clinical signs. Sir’s ear was attuned to varying crying frequencies, and yours truly had the privilege of learning firsthand that every cry is not just a cry; and that sobs, whines, whimpers, howls, and snivels are not exact synonyms.
Another crucial observation I learned from Sir was embracing pediatric treatment proactively versus reactively. He taught me that in some cases, it’s better to have a bawling baby, suggestive of a good respiratory reserve, than a quiet child too feeble or toxic to express.
If Sir was maternalistic towards the kids, he was a complete parent by being paternalistic towards the nursing staff. He taught them the basics of starting IV drips to emergency measures. My learning curve in pediatrics blossomed under Sir’s training.
Sir’s humility and reverence towards his teachers stood out remarkably in his demeanor. Those were the days of landlines. Sir would stand up to speak on the phone to his mentors, the highly respected Dr. Meena Desai and Dr. K. N. Shah.
No tribute is complete without a personal note. I still recall the aroma of Jayanti Madam’s (Sir’s other half) snacks and savouries, and the premiere of the movie Shaan at Minerva during the first weekend of release – to name a couple of incidents. Sir has been the first person in OT, other than the obstetrician, to examine and bless my daughters. Madam and Sir have always been kind enough to attend all our major family events.
Sir is held in high regard in our family as he has been the saviour of my younger daughter during a very stormy phase of our life when she was just 16 months old and developed Staphylococcal Pneumonia leading to empyema to intercostal drainage – a total of 18 days of institutional care in Panchsheel Nursing Home.
Sir, I take a bow.
May the Almighty shower you with a long life, and may your esteemed legacy be carried forward by your sons, Dr. Anil and Dr. Akhil.
Postscript
This write-up follows the ‘Life Time Achievement Award’ conferred by IMA Mulund to my beloved Sir.
