The Buddha Says

Plenty of interesting stories that bring back memories of my home and training. I think I was a first year resident when this happened. I was sat in trauma when a young man was rushed in. He had fallen in the path of a train and was extremely lucky to be alive. His arm (I dont remember which side) was amputated at the level of the mid-humerus (that is the bone in the upper arm). All we could do was to stabilise him, tie of the blood vessels in the stump and dress the wound. A good half-hour later, two men came into trauma very agitated enquiring about this patient. I was attending to some paperwork and pointed in the direction of the patient's bed. However, something about one of these men was odd. He had his arms folded across his chest and for a moment I did not realise what was odd about that. Then it struck me. Folded across his chest were not two but three arms. He was cradling the amputated part of his brother's arm that he had picked up from the tracks in the hope

This is by far the most difficult story to tell. I want to write this someday but I am not sure I am just ready yet.

7.45 am Friday 2003 Trauma is usually quiet in the mornings. We were sat at the main desk, chatting. Very excited casualty porters wheeled in a young man, lying on his side on a stretcher. And, nothing excites them. So, this had to be something big. He was of small build, lying calmly on his left side. He had long hair and was wearing clothes typical of tribals. He appeared to be stable. For a second, I and my junior resident wondered what all the fuss was about. Then, one of the porters removed the large gauze swabs lying across his right chest. And there it was. The largest laceration I had ever seen. His chest was split open from his right nipple to the tip of his right scapula - all the way to his pleural cavity. I could actually see the collapsed lung through that gaping hole. A sight enough to squeeze the juice out of any surgical resident's adrenals. We got him into trauma OR and started the routine bits. I went to inform my boss ( 'the lion' , we called him) who was

I don't know how many people even gave a second thought about this woman. I am sure there were other people who have wondered like I have. She was in her late-fifties or early sixties. Fair-skinned. She looked like she had, at some time in her life, been well-off. It just showed in her face. There was something about her - she looked kind, dignified. In any other setting, she would have easily been a friend's mother - the kind of person you meet when you visit your friend's home and who offers you coffee and snacks. Only this woman was begging on the streets, in front of one of the busiest restaurants in one of the busiest cities of India. She could not walk. She was always sat there with her legs straight in front of her. So typical of an old Indian woman. She did not have any of the cunning of the professional city beggar. She was not aggressive. She was not demanding. She just sat there, pleading sad eyes, hands that would occasionally rise, driven more by hunger than by

I had just started my third year of training in surgery and my friend and colleague was nearing the end of his training. We were covering trauma that Friday night and it was 3 am. A van driven by a drunken driver had ploughed into a group of young men (possibly drunk as well!). Two had died on the spot, one was dead on arrival and we got two badly injured men in their early twenties. Both had similar injuries – head trauma, pelvic and femoral fractures. And, both were in hypovolemic shock. It was difficult to say which one was worse. I took one patient and my friend took the other and we set to work. Right, airway- happy for the moment; breathing – ok; circulation – zilch. Neither had a recordable blood pressure. ‘Wide bore cannula, please!’ And we got one green venflon and a handful of blue venflons to go with. If you have ever been punched in your stomach and kicked in your balls at the same time, you will know exactly what we felt that day. Two young men in shock and one 18G venflon

Just back from work. Had a 70 year old chap involved in an accident. His motorcycle was bumped off by a car. But it was great to see everybody work so efficiently....organised chaos was what it was. He has got some really major injuries. I hope he makes it. I have worked in trauma before..In one of the busiest hospitals in India. Has always made me realise that everything in one's life can change in a snap. We have seen distraught families, wifes, daughters, mothers and husbands, sons and fathers devastated by accidents. The story is typical. Somebody goes to work. Doesn't come back in time. And the family gets a phone call(if they have a phone) or a kind autorickshaw driver calling at their home to tell them that their son/whoever has been in an accident and has been taken to such and such hospital. I would have expected 3 years of such experiences would make one numb to the emotional side of things...But it never does. One can only do so much to hide emotions and to appear st

Still experimenting!!!

Now on RSS feed Have just managed to put the whole thing on RSS…I am not entirely sure why I have done this! Well lets c if it works

My very first blog.....who is going to read this....just me, i guess. I suppose most blogs start like this. But honestly, how would I know. I haven't really read that many blogs. I am a surgical trainee. From India. Now in the UK. Do you get the idea? Well, before you go 'tsk tsk', let me tell you that its not as bad as some think it is. (And, i am already assuming that somebody is reading it!) 7 hernia ops and an equal number of endoscopies in one week. Fully satisfied appetite and i am now like a huge python or an anaconda that has just swollen a deer whole. Most starved surgical trainees will know what i am talking about.