While there’s a certain sanctity in seeing patients at a hospital or a clinic, a doctor must learn to make exceptions for friends who reach out in good faith

 

“Hey Maaz (which is what my friends affectionately call me), got a minute?” A frizzy-haired school friend had called to ask about her mother. “Mom’s got this back pain going down the leg for the past few days,” she narrated, sprucing up the account with how her mother had had a small operation for a deviated nasal septum a few weeks ago and why her stomach was hurting as well. “It’s probably just sciatica,” I said, disregarding it while in the midst of something else.

A few days later, she called back saying that the pain in her mother’s leg was better but that the leg was slightly swollen. I promptly removed my ‘friend hat’ and put on the ‘doctor topi’. “Why don’t you bring her to the hospital, we’ll take a look,” I advised, switching from dismissive to cautious. She was there within the hour, holding by the arm her mom, who was walking with a limp. I gently lay her down on the examination bed and ran my hands on the back of both her calves. The left one was distinctly taut while the one on the right was soft and flabby, as it usually is for most septuagenarians. This was clearly deep vein thrombosis that I had initially brushed aside. I got a doppler to confirm the diagnosis and directed her to a physician who started her on the right medication.

Before leaving the hospital, they profusely thanked me with a big box of chocolates (which is what most people do when you don’t charge them) for treating them with such care, but as soon as they left, I sank into my chair. “This could be fatal, Maaz,” I said to myself. An untreated clot in the leg can easily travel to the lung and cause sudden death. But thanks to some borrowed grace I have accrued over the years from curing patients, she made a good recovery and came back a month later with another box of chocolates. ‘We are all more than the sum of our sins’ – I remembered Jeaniene Frost.

Is there a difference between treating a friend as opposed to a complete stranger? As much as the official answer should be an emphatic “No!” human beings have a few inherent biases. While advising someone dear, I’m either much too concerned or completely carefree. I wish to be like the Buddha and follow the middle path, but for now, the pendulum swings depending on who the person is, how often they call you, the environment in which the issue is discussed, and whether their problems fall into the spectrum of your specialty.

There are some friends who call me with numerous minor health issues, to which my standard reply is “It’s nothing,” and they echo, “I know it’s nothing but I still wanted to check with you.” There are times when you don’t want them to expend on countless investigations and want to offer them the quickest and least bothersome solution. But sometimes, albeit rarely, in trying to help someone, you may get hurt yourself.

Then there are friends (or rather acquaintances) one bumps into at a wedding or funeral who, when they see me, want to catch me up on their blues. It is not uncommon for me to be checking a neck for tenderness, a back for spasm, or tracking someone’s eyeballs to examine for giddiness amidst a social gathering. “Doesn’t this drive you nuts?” someone asked when a friend’s uncle dragged me to the washroom at a party to show me a testicular swelling. “Not at all; in fact, I enjoy it,” I replied. “Not the toilet part,” I clarified, “but the ability to make someone feel instantly at ease is a privilege.”

Of course, there is a certain sanctity in seeing patients at the clinic or hospital where they receive undivided time and attention, but we must be flexible to make allowances. After all, wouldn’t I unflinchingly discuss my next holiday plan with a professional globetrotter friend or a broken washing machine with my buddy, who’s an expert with appliances?

All through the pandemic and initial lockdowns, I was flooded with calls from friends on how to ‘manage the virus’. It’s not my area of expertise at all, but then, in hindsight, no one knew much about it anyway, so why not help someone out to the best of my abilities? My driver could probably impart the same advice, but my friends would rather hear it from me. My mother directs all her geriatric friends to me; they have problems I know nothing about, but simply talking to them about it alleviates half their pain and all of mine.

“Doesn’t it irk you that so many people are calling you and asking for advice without any consideration for what you might be doing or where you are?” I was asked recently when inundated with calls over dinner one evening. “If it weren’t for them, no one would call me; at least that way we can have a conversation. Who calls anyone nowadays?” I justified. And after the phone call, I usually shoot of a bunch of WhatsApp messages prescribing elixirs, because every phone call to a friend ends with their saying, “Just message the meds, na!” Thankfully, no one has died yet, even with autocorrect prescribing dangerous stuff on its own.

I have often been stopped by the traffic police for violations that I firmly believe I never committed. But every time I tell a cop that I’m a doctor, I’ve ended up prescribing medication instead of paying a fine. They invariably talk about what’s hurting and are happy to receive a roadside fix. Waiters in the restaurant across the hospital, ushers at NCPA, my regular chaiwala, fruitwala, and postman are now all friends whom I recognize from what’s distressing them rather than what they’re doling out. At the end of the day, all we are doing is walking each other home.

To all my buddies out there: Whether I’m able to solve your problems or not, whether I give you advice that helps a little or a lot, if you’re in a health quandary, call me, and we’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. In the words of Carole King, ‘You’ve got a friend in me’.

This article first appeared in the Sunday Mid-day on 6^th February 2022