Appreciations
View(s):I keep her alive in the hope that one day I may become a fraction of what she was
Dr.Neelika Karunaratne
On a fateful April in 2003, I, a medical officer at the Sri Jayewardenepura General Hospital (SJGH), a few days into my new job, made a silly mistake. I had informed two specialist anaesthetists to come to the theatre at 6 a.m. for one surgery. Dr. Neelika Karunaratne, the erroneously informed specialist, glared at me with her perfect brown eyes and went to sleep on a cushy chair. Mortified, I spent the rest of the day, jumping through the bays of the operating theatre, avoiding her. Guilt stricken, I bought a bunch of purple flowers , attached a note that read “forgive me for wasting your time, sorry ,sorry ,sorry!” left it in the consultants’ lounge and disappeared. The flowers stood there for a day before someone delivered them. “You just got away with blue murder,” she said, eyes lighting up.
There began a beautiful friendship. Including me in her circle of love, she promptly baptized me “adopted child of anaesthesia”and I stayed such till her death.
Dr. Neelika Karunaratne, consultant anaesthetist, was a formidable woman without comparison. She stood tall, literally and symbolically. She was never seen in the hospital in anything less than sartorial perfection. She commanded work and love like a queen. Her emotional wealth was equally regal, lavish and abundant. She treated a person only as a person regardless of rank. She expected every doctor in her team to learn the art of anaesthesia. No one was allowed to idle, passively observe patient monitors or be a mere clerk of patient notes. She taught each one to be real doctor, holding them to the highest standards of ethics and skills. Those who weren’t interested didn’t survive in the department. Recognizing the intellectual potential of each person, she demanded our hearts, souls, hands, brains, focus, love and resilience all for our patients.
Her moral clarity regarding family life was unsurpassed. Helping anyone who strived to achieve work –life balance, she sacrificed, fought and stood like a rock when things crumbled for others. And she asked for nothing in return. We fed on her heart and her emotional capital regenerated like the liver of Prometheus. As a senior she encouraged and helped anyone who strived to obtain post graduate qualifications or find overseas training. A fountain of English and Sinhala language, avid reader, a lover of the cinema, dancing and music, she was a gifted writer and conversationalist. She encouraged me to write my first children’s story Amaraneeya Mala (Immortal Flower) illustrated by one of her favourite artists Sybil Wettasinghe, which I dedicated to Neelika.
“To your eyes only”
Some days I would wake up to an email or a viber message where she’d share a beautiful picture of herself, her husband Dr. S.D. Karunaratne or her children Channa, Thushi and Frith. The title would invariably read “to your eyes only”. Those four words spoke volumes of love that she kept deep and silent un-vocalized. She wanted us to keep our love for her lifeline-her family, silently, deeply, loyally in our hearts. On a rare day now, I wake up to viber messages from Thushi, sharing an old photo of Neelika. On those days I feel that she and I are both alive.
The Panagoda lions
We often referred to her long and tall string of siblings and relatives as the Panagoda Lions. She was fiercely loyal of them, generous and unconditional in her love. When she was diagnosed with cancer, she told me “it’s ok Santhu, my brother in UK will fall silent for a day. But I know he will appear at the doorstep in just a day. They will all come.” And come, they did. Stay, they did.
Remembering parents
She spoke of her parents with deep affection and gratitude in a language of profound joy. During the last days of her mother she confided, “there is nothing more I can do. I have kept a flower pot with a large rose at the window so that she will see it at her last moments. She raised us among the trees and flowers.” Her entire life in fact, was a resplendent tribute to her parents.
Anuradhapura diaries
In 2009 I went to Anuradhapura as part of my post graduate training, carrying my 8-month son to live by myself amidst skepticism. Neelika, ever the supporter, didn’t fuss and packed me off. For the entire duration she faithfully visited me in Anuradhapura. We made a ‘ girl trip’ with Roni and Ruchira, picknicking on lake bunds, walking into the houses of strangers, laughing too loud at temples and ripping trees of jambu and rose apple like monkeys. We laughed till we practically ran out of breath. She faithfully posted hilarious handwritten letters with mischievous illustrations full of gossip and held me to the pact to post back handwritten letters. Today I touch these pages of love. I bring my lips to them and instead of sobbing, I laugh.
“I am a woman hear me roar”
The cancer that hit her lung hit us all. It ate in to our hearts and souls eating away parts of us. She was the signature Panagoda Lioness facing this trial. Some days we carried her through her ordeal, but most days she carried us. Recovering from her treatment, she completed a 5 km SJGH 30th Anniversary walk in solidarity as I was the chief organizer of the event. We finished, where she demonstrated more stamina than us. Dr Anula Wijesundere, her faithful lifelong friend holding one hand and I the other. She retired from SJGH where over a thousand employees gathered to say goodbye to the legend who flew the flag of anaesthesia high and pioneered cardiothoracic anaesthesia and critical care. I received her under her favourite pink flower arc of SJGH where we locked hands in love as she took her final official walk at SJGH.
Goodbyes
She bid goodbye to her friends in death exactly as she lived her life- in love, strength and passion. She summoned each one and bid farewell in private. Her casket was closed. She wouldn’t be remembered for her death, but for her service, principles, joy, loyalty ,knowledge and indomitable spirit. She’ll be remembered for the world she strived to build for anaesthesia and critical care medicine where doctors would give to the world sincerely, without greed, upholding our Hippocratic Oath. She will be remembered for believing that women should be held to equal standards and be paid equally. That women would use their work and brains and not their looks or sexualityto get ahead. Dr Ruchira Perera once told me that Neelika saw her driving the car without shoes. She asked Ruchira why. Ruchira answered “Madam, I’m not used to driving with shoes on.” She told Ruchira “Learn it. Never come down in your standards, even if no one can see.”
Keeping Neelika alive
How do I keep Neelika alive? Every time a woman is abused verbally, sexually, physically I stand up for her even if it’s ‘none of my business’. I stand up against sexism and those who say “boys will be boys”. I encourage all doctors, men and women, to never ever give up their profession. I support those striving to achieve work-life balance. I try not to forget my moral prerogative to protect the weak, even when the weak don’t want to be protected. I try to be a friend like her, a difficult benchmark. I try to be a sister, aunt, wife and mother like her who knows how to love and let go. Even on my darkest day, I dress up, pick myself off the floor, hold my head up and walk the corridors, remembering that I walk on the ground that a queen once walked.
But all days aren’t so idealistically charged. Somedays in mid conversation with Dr. Hemantha Perera (VOG), her “favourite humour at SJGH” we both stop for a fraction of a second, sad in our unspoken knowledge that our friend is gone. Some days, instead of saying ‘hello Sir’ to Dr. Wariyapola, Eye Surgeon, her “inseparable- who- could- do- no- wrong”, I deliberately walk behind him as he talks in to his Bluetooth oblivious to the world.I speak to him in my mind in ‘Neelix-ish’ – “Oi, Wari, I’m right behind you, don’t worry”. Sometimes Ruchira and I stop mid-sentence with the realization that our futures will happen despite her absence. I ponder over colour charts to select a nail colour to put on my toes and invariably choose her favourite onion pink mixed with rose. Because that was the colour on her nails as I kissed her goodbye for the last time. As I pass the beautiful tree under which she sleeps in the Borella Cemetery daily on my way to work, I mentally play her favourite songs. I keep Neelika alive in the hope I one day become at least a fraction of the woman and friend she was.
Santhushya Fernando
A true anglophile he will be remembered for his brilliance
Rudra Rasaretnam
Rudra Rasaretnam–an eminent cardio-thoracic surgeon passed away last month after a brief illness at the age of 86.
He was the last in the long line of famous surgeons who dominated the surgical scene from the 1940s to the 1960s. His grandfather S.C.Paul FRCS who was a senior surgeon in the Colombo General Hospital and the first Sri Lankan to obtain the fellowship of the Royal College of Surgeons of England was followed by his maternal uncles Professor Milroy Paul, the first Professor of Surgery in the Colombo Medical School and Professor Milroy’s brother A.T.S. Paul who initiated the practice of cardio thoracic surgery in Colombo and later in Jaffna.
Rudy, as he was affectionately called, was involved in the commencement of the clinical departments medical school in Peradeniya in 1964. He with the late Professor H.S.Kirthisinghe started the teaching department of surgery in Peradeniya. While working in the General Hospital in Kandy in the 1960s he was one of the initiators of the Kandy Society of Medicine which is now only second to the Colombo based Sri Lanka Medical Association, in promoting academic activities and medical research in Sri Lanka.
Rudy always called himself as Mister as is the practice with surgeons in the United Kingdom where he had his medical education. He qualified from the Kings College Hospital medical school, where he excelled both in academia and in sports. He captained the Kings College Hospital cricket team in which another eminent surgeon of the United Kingdom Hedley Berry played under him.
As a teacher of medical students in Peradeniya he will be remembered by his students for his brilliant clinical demonstrations of patients in the surgical wards of the Kandy Hospital and his amusingly eccentric ways when dealing with patients but always conscious of providing the best health care. He was an anglophile both in his daily living and in the way he cared for his patients. Being of a very independent spirit he never married and remained a bachelor all his life
Dr. T.Varagunam
Thank you for all the good times and lessons taught
SHIEKH ISMAIL AZEEZ
‘ Always so good, unselfish and kind,
Few on this earth, your equal I find
Honourable and upright in all your ways
Loyal and true to the end of your days!’
You did not live to be a 100 Daddy, but on your 100th birthday, fond memories of your time with us refresh our minds.
I remember as a kid, the evening hours you spent with us –singing to our hearts content old favourites especially ‘Back to Columbo Happy Land ‘(professions in the alphabetical order) . Our children know about all the good times we shared with you.
I remember Daddy, how you and I would try all the puzzles in the weekend papers. Even now, when I try out some puzzle, you come to my mind!
How every morn, you would hold us by our chins, and comb hair, which my children too remember as they too had their hair combed!
Never a harsh word , nor a raised voice did you ever use in the household. That still remains with all your children Daddy! Your simple way of life, your honesty in your career, speak volumes.
There were no electrical appliances at home during your long career in the Police Department- only an iron and a vehicle.
I am proud of you Daddy – your words to me: “ Don’t wait till someone does what you could do yourself. Take courage and do it..” Thank you Daddy for the words of encouragement and the confidence – which I shall treasure always!
I cannot pen all the good things I’ve learnt from you Daddy. Your devoted daughter concludes with:
Memory drifts to scenes long past,
Time rolls on, but memories last,
Sunshine passes, shadows fall
Love’s remembrance outlasts all! Marina