Finally they came, and our time was over

The new interns were as fresh as we were when we first stepped into these wards and they are every bit as unaware as we were of what the next year would hold. We could only give them advice and wish them luck. The shoes that I had bought just before I started my first day were worn out, my tie now a shade darker with age and I, much thinner! There were nights when I had wondered what I was doing, and there were days that would not have been enough if there were 30 hours.

The best thing about being an intern medical officer is that you get to be a doctor for the first time; the worst is that people who matter, hardly appreciate what you do. In the unlikely scenario that all interns stopped work, believe me, life will be hell for all other medical personnel. Nobody else really knows how to get things done at ground zero like an intern. As has been said before we were the foot soldiers in the battle, we would always be the first to get hit but no war could be won without us no matter how many generals there were! But in the end we would also be the ones who would be forgotten.

The life of an intern is essentially one lacking in time, money, freedom, food, space, seniority, and everything else you can name. Of all these things what bothered me the most was the lack of freedom in decision-making. Although understandably, it is the rational thing for all major decisions to be made by the most senior person, it often happened that I was left wondering what the consultant would do rather than what was the correct path to follow. (Incidentally for those who do not know, consultants are always right!).

The internship had literally changed our lives. We had come to this hospital, my friend and I because we wanted to one day specialize in this same field. Both of us have now decided against it. We had to shift from one place or another during this time (to four places in all) and we had learned what a Spartan lifestyle really meant.

One of the best moments would surely be the time I went into a post office desperately trying to find an important document seemingly lost in the mail. A postal worker came up to me from somewhere and said, “Doctor what’s the problem, can I help you?” For one horrible moment I thought I had my stethoscope around my neck!

But it was a parent of one of the children I’d helped to treat and he found me my letter in that mass of letters! One of my worst moments was being asked by a consultant why I hadn’t given a diagnosis card to a patient. He never believed me when I said I had given one, till I traced the BHT to find that the patient had left without collecting the card or signing, and had been designated as missing from the ward!

There are many people who would remain entangled in the memories of my internship. A few unusual people would be the call boy who would wake me up at night when the dreaded call came for me, the people at our canteen who would sometimes put an extra bit of curry for me, the lift operator who always seemed to know where I was going, the technician at the lab who did the urine cultures who would always oblige and get the report for me over the phone extra quick and the man at the exchange who would always connect my calls. They had all taught me how to get things done, that a “thank you” and a “please” still mattered.

When would the post intern appointment list come? That was the big question. Whenever it comes although there was a bit of nostalgia, most of us would be glad to go and begin the rest of our lives. Until then we were designated as RHO’s or relief house officers. We were in limbo, neither really here nor there. My other intern’s diary has already been signed by the hospital director. It is also time to sign off this intern’s diary.