You look for blue eyes and red lips.
Romance in your mind.
We look for red eyes and blue lips. Cyanotic Heart Disease,
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Sorry, we are not your kind
While you yearn for beauty,
We search pathology.
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It is easy for us telling a son that his mother has terminal heart disease,
But telling the mother that her son has disseminated cancer, we are not at ease
Someone has to do it.
And, yes, we do our bit.
Our training makes sure we do that right.
Everyday and night.
In and out of sight.
We cut beautiful bodies, stitch mangled corpse.
To us heart is not poetry, but a contractile source.
Brain is just grey and white that matter.
We don’t know anything beyond medicine, that matter
Who did you say was Harry Potter?
Our teachers said….
“In cardiology your dedication has to be total,
even when you are out of hospital.”
“The suicide rates are high, if you stray off course.”
“Consider yourself lucky if you don’t end up in a divorce”
The Hippocrates oath makes sure that there is nothing cool about us anymore. Nothing hot too, for us to implore.
We too enjoy a sunny beach and a funny movie.
We are humans too.
You hug a large heart.
We see a bad disease.
You want a warm handshake,
Cold clammy ones disturb our ease.
You see butterflies flutter by,
we discuss bacteria in cafeteria.
We can’t help it.
We are programmed to lump it.
You look for us in times of crisis.
We offer our services, here it is.
You consider us legend
Sorry, guys, we are looking for a friend; a friend to smile
And walk us a mile.
You tell your children keep quiet;
“Doctor uncle will give you injection.”
We tell our children, ‘Do not become a doctor by profession.’
Hours after the white coat is on the hanger.
At home, we still feel like a stranger
You bring us your problem,
We are ever ready to solve them.
At the cost of ours, with all our powers.
We reunite families so that they can smile again.
Walk that extra mile again
The emergency surgery may be lifesaving for you.
I am late,
My son waits alone for me, in the school, thinking this is all that’s due
My wife is tired of waiting to have dinner with me.
They say,
“There is a lady behind every successful man, that you don’t see,”
Poor soul,
Has no one to console
While her husband deals with heart and soul.
I am confused.
I don’t know as to what’s my goal.
Society calls us doctors, showers respect on us
All that we ask is, “Why so serious?”
Blue eyes and red lips still fascinate us.
(The writer is Head, Department of Cardiology, PRS Hospital, Thiruvananthapuram. Email: tinynair@gmail.com)