A friend of mine was complaining about how an ongoing political agitation had sent her child’s education for a toss. Schools restarted and the teachers were doggedly force-feeding chunks of English, maths and the rest into minds which had yet to wake up from the haze of unexpected holidays.
That got me thinking of my own teachers. I believe a good teacher is one of the greatest gifts you can get in your life. I’ve had the privilege of not one but two.
When I was in high school I had an English teacher, Sr. Laetitia. She was well over 60 even then, graceful in her age but with the passion to teach of a woman half her years. She also had a persistent wheezing problem which interfered more often than not with her regular life. Yet when she stepped foot into our class, everything else disappeared except her, the blackboard and the book she managed to transport us into. We wept for Caesar, we carved out a place for Kipling in our minds and his ‘If’, we admired the stoic old man and his sea--- we crossed space and time with her! She was relentless in her pursuit to educate, and we used to joke that our vocabulary was on a growth spurt in her classes!
This led me to think that among all that you learn in school, the most enduring is perhaps language. It’s difficult to unlearn and unlikely to be forgotten if you speak it on a regular basis or are a native speaker. Yes, you may forget the quotes, muddle up the poets and their lines – but you still have the essence in you. And for that Sr.Laetitia, wherever you are, I am eternally grateful.
After I did my post graduation in dermatology, I worked for a time under a consultant on a voluntary basis. Dr.Raghuram Rao was of the old school He paid attention to detail, was committed to updating himself and his students on the most recent advances, and was generous with praise when he thought they deserved it. He was also a clinician par excellence with a genuine desire to share his knowledge and ability with the younger generation. I learnt the nuances of the practice of dermatology from him and that is a big step away from what the books teach. It’s almost like crystallizing what he would have learnt over 40 odd years of trial and error into a single one or two for his student – because unlike many doctors he was never insecure. Generous to a fault, he never gave me fish, but he taught me how best to get it myself – that I believe is the epitome of a great teacher.
Every day in my practice I see a lot of patients; I listen to them; I help them out. Every day I also say a silent thank you to my teachers.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
Sunday, 9 October 2011
On books
I was browsing in a book store today, when I wandered into the childrens aisle. To be honest it was surprising to see a childrens book section which actually had good books.
Where I come from, we had really, really good libraries, and I used to be a ‘reader’, pure and simple. Most of my childhood, I read and I read and I read. Not surprisingly, I was a fan of Enid Blyton and kind of finished most of her works before I crossed 10. Around that was when I bumped into a series called ‘Williams’ by the author Richmal Crompton. I fell in love. I would get caught in school laughing to myself on and off by indulgent friends who always did have a suspicion that I’d lost it.
So, while browsing, a ‘William’ book caught my eye. And, I had to have it.
How many of us have bought a book, a picture, a dvd movie because it somehow manages to take you to a happy place? I think it’s partly because that it’s a small but very private part of you and you want something tangible to hold it by. And it’s human nature to want to hoard your happy places, I guess!
Last week, I was reading this article on how your brain manages to lock in every single moment you’ve had, and how we regularly use only a small percent of that. The amazing thing was that this memory creation is an interplay of all the five senses, and olfactory, or the sense of smell is way on top. So, let’s say, you walk on the road and someone passes by wearing a perfume you know your mom used once upon a time. Chances are, you will be taken to that period in time with astonishing clarity, and most observers also feel that this is able to re-evoke your general feelings towards that period or person as a physical response in you. Not too clear? What that could mean is, you smell the perfume, you feel warm, you feel good, a bit nostalgic -- and you really want to talk to your mother! So, in a way I guess we all have brains that are hoarders, too!
Where I come from, we had really, really good libraries, and I used to be a ‘reader’, pure and simple. Most of my childhood, I read and I read and I read. Not surprisingly, I was a fan of Enid Blyton and kind of finished most of her works before I crossed 10. Around that was when I bumped into a series called ‘Williams’ by the author Richmal Crompton. I fell in love. I would get caught in school laughing to myself on and off by indulgent friends who always did have a suspicion that I’d lost it.
So, while browsing, a ‘William’ book caught my eye. And, I had to have it.
How many of us have bought a book, a picture, a dvd movie because it somehow manages to take you to a happy place? I think it’s partly because that it’s a small but very private part of you and you want something tangible to hold it by. And it’s human nature to want to hoard your happy places, I guess!
Last week, I was reading this article on how your brain manages to lock in every single moment you’ve had, and how we regularly use only a small percent of that. The amazing thing was that this memory creation is an interplay of all the five senses, and olfactory, or the sense of smell is way on top. So, let’s say, you walk on the road and someone passes by wearing a perfume you know your mom used once upon a time. Chances are, you will be taken to that period in time with astonishing clarity, and most observers also feel that this is able to re-evoke your general feelings towards that period or person as a physical response in you. Not too clear? What that could mean is, you smell the perfume, you feel warm, you feel good, a bit nostalgic -- and you really want to talk to your mother! So, in a way I guess we all have brains that are hoarders, too!
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Why skin?
I find skin fascinating. It's so fragile, so self-willed and yet so amenable to care. I see a lot of patients with skin problems in my everyday practice. I find that skin seems to have a direct connection to that part of your brain which deals with self-respect. At the end of the day, much of my effort goes to help people literally be comfortable in their own skin-forgive the pun!
I've this patient of mine, lets call her Veda, who is really very pretty. She came to me when her skin was pretty much ravaged by improper medications and unwarranted use of the same. She was desperate, and on her own admission had stopped going out because she felt her skin was not good enough to be 'seen in'.
Now, one thing I've noticed about most patients in general, is that they want a deadline for their problem--no matter they've had it for years. And with time, I'm sort of a pro at answering that. I start with getting them to clarify how long they've had it so they get that time frame out in the open. Then I give them a time limit which is at least a good quarter more than it would realistically take for them to see a difference. And I tend to give them expectations which are always a little less---so that when they see a difference they'll appreciate it a little more. Voila! Everybody is happy.
So, getting back to Veda. Veda showed dramatic improvement--literally in half the time I predicted she'd see a difference. And having a naturally good skin helped. Yet for all that she unfailingly focussed on a longstanding pimple mark (it couldn't have been more than a millimetre in diameter) , over her left eyebrow. Her agony over it was palpable and despite all my assurances to the contrary, she would not be pacified enough to let it not overshadow her natural confidence. I'd finally had to resort to an expensive laser procedure to help her get rid of it. She would have none of the 'give it time, it will improve' talk.
Which made me question the ethics of the situation all over again. Am I warranted in using a procedure, an expensive one, which can have its own set of side-effects, on her? Did desperation and her obvious lack of self confidence count as motive? Should I have sent her to a counsellor? At the end of the day, did the fact that I helped get rid of her problem and dramatically improve her self-respect issues , count? In the long run, Veda is a surprisingly common example. She is only one in a group of young people, all mostly very good-looking individuals and remarkably confident to all outward appearences --- but every mole on their skin is a literal mountain in the mirror.
Just like sex education or sports, I feel children should be given classes in building up their confidence. There should be teachers and counsellors to help them figure out the causes for their insecurities and above all they should know that the dermatologist shouldn't be the only one around to help them see themselves as prettier people.
I've this patient of mine, lets call her Veda, who is really very pretty. She came to me when her skin was pretty much ravaged by improper medications and unwarranted use of the same. She was desperate, and on her own admission had stopped going out because she felt her skin was not good enough to be 'seen in'.
Now, one thing I've noticed about most patients in general, is that they want a deadline for their problem--no matter they've had it for years. And with time, I'm sort of a pro at answering that. I start with getting them to clarify how long they've had it so they get that time frame out in the open. Then I give them a time limit which is at least a good quarter more than it would realistically take for them to see a difference. And I tend to give them expectations which are always a little less---so that when they see a difference they'll appreciate it a little more. Voila! Everybody is happy.
So, getting back to Veda. Veda showed dramatic improvement--literally in half the time I predicted she'd see a difference. And having a naturally good skin helped. Yet for all that she unfailingly focussed on a longstanding pimple mark (it couldn't have been more than a millimetre in diameter) , over her left eyebrow. Her agony over it was palpable and despite all my assurances to the contrary, she would not be pacified enough to let it not overshadow her natural confidence. I'd finally had to resort to an expensive laser procedure to help her get rid of it. She would have none of the 'give it time, it will improve' talk.
Which made me question the ethics of the situation all over again. Am I warranted in using a procedure, an expensive one, which can have its own set of side-effects, on her? Did desperation and her obvious lack of self confidence count as motive? Should I have sent her to a counsellor? At the end of the day, did the fact that I helped get rid of her problem and dramatically improve her self-respect issues , count? In the long run, Veda is a surprisingly common example. She is only one in a group of young people, all mostly very good-looking individuals and remarkably confident to all outward appearences --- but every mole on their skin is a literal mountain in the mirror.
Just like sex education or sports, I feel children should be given classes in building up their confidence. There should be teachers and counsellors to help them figure out the causes for their insecurities and above all they should know that the dermatologist shouldn't be the only one around to help them see themselves as prettier people.
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