Theres something about working in a govt hospital. All the gory and crappy stuff appears so magnified, that in a strange way it makes us appreciate the trivial, simple details of life that we otherwise tend to overlook. We are hit with the sober fact that youth is so short-lived, life so fickle. A few extra ions in our blood, a couple of extra impulses in our heart, one ruptured vessel in our brain, and its pack up time. Then again, we are struck with the beautiful realization that the human body is, more than anything else, an amazing combination of science and art. And the human mind is truly the most fascinating thing known to man.
All these revelations do not occur when we enter the hospital. Neither do they occur when we leave. They just catch us off gaurd when we are doing the most mundane things. And then our mind simply runs back to the hospital, and we feel the full impact of something we witnessed back there.
We see shrivelled bodies and fragile structures, fighting gallantly or hanging on by a mere shread of hope. Some of them delirious, some comatose, some fairly stable. The spectrum is broad, and they vary anywhere between being aggressive to passive. Some hypochondriacs, and some incredibly narcissistic. They may come with paralysed limbs, or dysfunctional kidneys, an alcoholic liver, or a failing heart. We cut them open, stitch them up, nurture them, then send them back. Some leave eagerly, some grudgingly. Some dont want to leave at all.
But there are some who can not be allowed to leave. Family members dont know how to handle them, friends are scared of them, and society at large shuns them. The lay man calls them mad, the better educated ones call them psychotic. As medicos, we call them schizophrenics. Our world is too boring for them, and theirs is too much of a fantasy for us to believe. They have a surreal existance, and cant let anybody in. We, with all our medical expertise dont know how to let them out.
Cinema has often portrayed caricatures of psychiatric patients, so we have plenty of preconceived notions about them. Contrary to the general erroneous opinion, these people are not retarded. Neither do they go around yelling incessantly while tearing at their clothes. And please, they are not sick serial killers either, though I admit that they can sometimes get violent, and even homicidal. Still they harbour no malice. Their basic problem is an altered sense of perception. And their patho lies in the complete inability to recognize that problem.
What strikes me about them is that they are always so oblivious to their environment, so detached from everything. Even when they interact with you, they somehow seem aloof. Engrossed in their own world, they just go about doing what they want to do, thinking what they want to think, and believing that what they think is the ultimate truth. They will try to explain their obscure ideas to you. And if you happen to disagree, they will argue endlessly and persistently. Or they might just drop the topic thinking you are too thick to understand! I find that nothing less than endearing.
Despite their eccentric, and sometimes obnoxious behaviour, they can be very appealing. They have a knack to amuse you and engage you, which I think stems more from the disease than from their actual personality. Nonetheless, they do capture your interest. Their enigma perhaps lies in the nature of the disease itself, which is a bitter irony. Trapped and tricked by their own minds, they have to ultimately battle against themselves. And it is more or less a lost battle. But they do it in the most bold and inspiring way. As a mere on-looker, I have never felt more touched. Or more humbled.
