I begin my day by punching in at the NMC and then taking the bus to the peripheral centre where I’m assigned for the month. As usual, I exchange morning smiles with the bus driver, Anna, and enjoy watching the July monsoon, all the while hoping to do a good job at my next journal club presentation. Patients begin to slowly arrive at the OPD, and I get ready with my registers to jot down their medicines and await for the files to be entered.
It seems like another monotonous day, but then an interesting encounter happens. Life gives you surprises in the smallest ways possible, and it greets you exactly when you need it the most.
A man in his late 70s enters my chamber and hands me his wife’s file. He explains that she didn’t want to step out in the rain, so he had come to pick up her vitamin supplements that were advised by the medical practitioner earlier. He also wanted to buy her favourite snack as a surprise for her on the way back home.
Another encounter happened when a one-year-old baby showed great interest in my laptop and was drooling to sit on the chair. Why am I telling you about these little moments? I felt passion and love in both of these encounters. Age may vary, but curiosity and love never die.
There are moments in time when, as a doctor being posted at the peripheral centre, I get trapped between asking patients questions, entering the prescription data in the register, and making sure they have received the medicines, and I fail to appreciate the art of noticing small things.
Just a moment I make the effort to take my eyes off the register, breathe, and notice the tiny things happening around the OPD. From the nurses passing down medicines and explaining to patients in their local language, to the cleaning staff patiently trimming the leaves, to the lab technician pacifying the patient that it’s just a small prick, the OPD is a beauty to appreciate people and their tiny moments.
