The hospital is a place that make you feel absolute extremes. One day, you're a superhero saving people's lives right on time. Another, you're a nitwit that can't seem to get anything right, messing up the most important day for a patient. Yet another day, you're a warrior fighting against the rest of the frustrating world for something you believe is right.
Overall, the hospital makes you feel extremes; there's no in between.
Now, that's how I always wanted to live my life, so I always appreciated that. I love looking at passion in another person's face; whether it's love for an object, activity or career. I've always thought deep emotions equalled deep aspirations. So I never pushed back against my natural tendency to be that way.
But these days I'm coming to see that extremes isn't the goal-- moderation is.
Like I said myself, "moderation took it's toll on the ones who strived lifelong to achieve it."
Maybe it's time to strive, myself.

The mud we're constituted by
Nerves and muscle, protein and fat; inside us they lie
In spite of being all a different form
Still equally injected with the life that keeps us warm,
It's a parade of different colours
Varied textures, multitude in all us
We think we're single, but I don't agree
Look inside, there's much more to see.

Conflict between countries, states, families
The conflict that keeps brings you to your knees
But being in solitude doesn't prove swell;
It's the same one that's found internally as well
Difference of opinion exists within
It keeps us awake, the constant din.
We think we're single, but I don't agree
Look inside, there's so much more to see.

We need to live in groups
Under societal pressure we jump through hoops
And the one thing that's beyond and above--
For we crave company, we look for love
Feeling lonely isn't our cup of tea.
We think we're single, but I don't agree
Look inside, there's so much more to see.

In a relationship, we do everything to save it from going southern
All the efforts to get to know another
The little things too, but moreso
Their passion, what they can't forego
What moves them and what breaks them
What they are and what makes them
That's how you come to love-- When you KNOW.
Do you know yourself? It's time to do so!
We think we're single, but I don't agree
Look inside, there's so much more to see.

How long a day do you think of YOU?
What you want to get to, what you want to do
Are you on the path to your passion?
Or does each day end with feeling ashen?
At the end of the day
When you close your eyes, would you say
You find yourself climbing a mountain or tumbling down a hill?
It's time to take charge, or you'll end up paying the bill!
We think we're single, but I don't agree
Look inside, there's so much more to see.

Love yourself, treat yourself
Work for your joy, be your own little elf
Explore the world, know who you are
Aim for the sky, heighten the bar!
Where exactly do you want to fly
More importantly do you know why?
We think we're single, but I don't agree
Look inside, there's so much more to see.

You don't have to go with the norm,
You don't need a lover to keep you warm.
Make your own rules, by them you abide.
Don't need someone on your side
For approval, appreciation, or ego pacification.
What you need is you; self authentication!
Just like success follows excellence
Where self love exists, with another it forms thence
We think we're single, but I don't agree
Look inside, there's so much more to see.

Sutures.

I got to suture up the skin after a surgery two days ago.
And the sutures were satisfying, but they were just the smallest part of the procedure. Countless textbooks Googled pictures, and videos don't match up to seeing the intestines with your naked eyes.
It's beautiful, it really is! Even feeling a faecolith from outside the intestinal wall is really enriching. 
I began to wonder what I did to deserve this gift, to see the insides of a human body while it was still running. I got to witness how we fix it, and maybe in the future I'll even get to do it myself.
I used to question the pain and suffering we're put through in the quest of treating patients. Why should I go through such torture when all I'm trying to do is help someone? While I ran my hand over a bowel loop and felt the squishy mesentery, I realised why.
It's because this is a privilege; the satisfaction of healing isn't something that you can buy. It's the biggest pleasure of them all. A content life, peaceful sleep, knowing another person is alive because of your work-- this is nothing short of a priceless privilege.

It's pretty satisfying to be a part of healing the poor and needy. It's much more than I'd ever thought I was capable of. I always chanted "I want to be a doctor", but I guess I never thought of the milestones I'd hit. The first thanks I received from a patient, the first patient who preferred me as their doctor, the first time I saved a life-- who knew it would feel so good? And just because it's happened once, it doesn't stop feeling great every time I make a difference.
The other day I had to deal with misplaced venous catheter in a woman's arm-- an arm that showed hardly any evidence of the veins running underneath her skin. And this, in short, was still one of my nightmares. But after tying a tourniquet and giving it my extreme best effort, I managed to lodge a brand new one in her arm. I breathed a sigh of relief and satisfaction. But the real contentment came after she said, "thank you doctor, you did it so gently that I didn't even know when it happened. May God bless you."
Of course that was a nurses job, not a doctor's; yet it was fulfilling just to be of help in any way.
Such situations are a multitude in my hospital, a never ending river of opportunity. Patients pleading for all sorts of things; treatment, a wheelchair, directions to a specialist's room, or at times just some attention....
Here's what I've begun to realise. At the end of a long tiring day, the requesting, helpless people begin to turn into screeching, beseeching voices that you cannot empathise with any longer. That golden river of opportunity turns into a dark abyss. You have had enough. Your head aches on one side, what you already know is a migraine. The fact that you've made a diagnosis without even trying to think about it annoys you. Your stomach growls occasionally and your legs ache worse than you can ever remember. You don't wonder if they'll fall off, because once again, you already know it doesn't work that way. But you do think your best bet is probably to trip and hit your head really hard, so that you can finally be one of them, lying on bed in peace, unconscious or in a coma, both of which are probably more desirable than your present state...
And then when you hear, "Amma, Narsaiah patient can't breathe properly"--
"Amma please have a look here," someone else begs you in a helpless, worried voice.
"Amma Jyoti is in a lot of pain!" A middle aged woman yelps about her mother, tears in her eyes.
"Madam, madam! My father's hands and legs are shaking, there's froth coming from his mouth!"
Each patient's problem sounds like it's accusing you. You wonder what suddenly changed that makes you feel like it's turned into a war of patients vs. doctors. Nevertheless, you categorise whatever you've heard and try to remember them in order to the best of your ability. Treat the seizures with Midazolam stat and a Phenytoin drip before referring the patient to a senior or specialist. Check SpO2 and ask the nurse to start oxygen inhalation when you see that it's low. Give an intramuscular Buscopan injection and call a senior doctor for further management.
And when you get to the others who are still pleading for your help, you wonder why whatever you do is never enough. You wonder who these people are that come to you for help. You wonder why their morbidity and senility are plaguing you in the prime of your youth. Your limbs all work, your skin shines with the sparkle of health and you've got no disabling pain; then what are you doing stuck in this hellhole?
The rest of your peers are planning trips to Goa, getting highlights and piercings, taking pictures standing out of the sunroof of luxury cars. So what mistake did you do to deserve this misery?
All you did differently was read a few more books and give a few more exams.

Being an intern.
The bottom of the food chain, as you would have it -- we're prey to everyone above. A slave, sometimes feels like it's the worst of them all. Calls from seniors dumping work on us, questions from patients trying to point a finger at us; it's all too overwhelming. There's a time when we suddenly realise that we took up this profession to serve patients, but now it feels like this is a game of doctors vs. patients...
But there is one recurrent occurrence that brings out the sun during those times; a kind patient asking, "have you eaten at least?"
The hospital is a lovely place if you're not sick, unbiased and simple. No patient cares about who you are, what you look like or whether you're popular. They care if you care about them, and that's a pretty straightforward job to do.

Being a woman.
At the end of the day, no one can take away the raw sexuality that the world runs on. It's frustrating when a female intern is subjected to chivalry from a male patient. Every male feels the need to be the provider, but so does every doctor.
"In spite of being a lady, you've done so much for me. Let me get you something cool to drink." -- such a statement does not make me blush with happiness. It's an insult that inspite of all I'm capable of, I'm still "a lady" to him.
But it's not always a negative thing, to be a woman. Like when I inserted a Foley's catheter into a man's penis and retained urine was finally evacuated from his bladder. He chose to thank me with the words, "you're like more than a mother." I found no words to reply to such an honour.

Apron on my back, gloves on my hands, neck adorned by my stethoscope and hair tied away safe where it won't fall into any fluids, I enter the department every morning.
Nursing students wish me a good morning, the kind of respect I wasn't used to receiving before. But now I like it, I appreciate their view of me. They look upon me as an intimidating superior, the way we look at our seniors.
I notice the change in expression of the patients and attenders when it's me who's speaking to them. They behave like every action of mine in the direction of their benefit is a blessing sent directly from heaven. How easy it's become, for me to distribute my many blessings!
"Doctor!" A name to which I hadn't been accustomed to respond to, now I turn every time I hear the word. Yes, I'm a doctor. Yes, I can treat your vomitings and your fever, and I know what to do if you're breathless. I can look into your eyes and tell you what you've got; I can take the blood from within your body and come to know of all it's working! Just a drop of blood will tell me if you're in need of insulin, and my steady ear will catch it if your BP's out of control. I break ampules with an artistic sweep and load injections with a swift pull. I can put tubes through any orifice and use them to send food directly to your stomach. I can restart your IV set when it's clogged, and even send medicines straight into your muscle.

Does it feel good? Yep, it's intoxicating, the high of being a superhero.

One more ✓

Four years and a million exams later, here I am, finally done with them all! I can't say I won't miss them; they were something else.
Everyone you see is different from their normal self a few minutes before they enter the hall. I don't know what it is about extreme stress that makes you lose the social smile reflex that's supposed to develop in you when you're an infant, but no one smiles at you before an exam. If you're lucky, they give you a brief look of acknowledgement and look back down at their books.
Every morning I'd make all arrangements to go late enough to be able to step into the exam hall without crossing anyone that was capable of making me lose my calm, but every morning, I'd fail.
I'd always get stuck at the side of some last minute quick discussion about a topic that either I'd forgotten to read, or the name of which I've never heard before; EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. And let me clarify, these discussions aren't anything you can learn from, it's just the way two people who know everything remind one another of what they already know.
Two hundred and five of us all would file into to the exam hall, sometimes with me racing back to the library where we'd leave our bags for the water bottle or long scale that I'd forgotten to take. Panting and out of breath, I'd make it to my table with the 13008--- number printed on it, and sit down. Looking around yourself during exam time was like an outsider looking in, because everyone is so consumed in their own discussions that no one knew or cared who was observing them.

We all looked similar; facial hair grown beyond a point of social acceptance, with only long beards or long hair left to set apart the genders. There's always that one guy who grows his beard out to such an extent that it curls at the end and bears an uncanny resemblance to pubic hair. And if you really find a girl pretty, you can only assume it to be real if you find her the same on the morning before an important exam, in her complete de-glam avatar.

Sometimes I'd wonder how it would feel to be the batch topper, and look around at everyone like an advanced being observing the behaviour of earthlings. What goes through their mind?
Hah. Lame idiots. Thinking that last minute catching up on everything is going to help them at all. They don't even know anything, what are telling one another? On second thought, at least their substandard knowledge may make something of itself if it's all put together. Still nothing compared to all that I know.
Is that the way people think, when they're at the top? Well, I guess I'll never know now. Not in MBBS anyway.

All exams are partly about satisfying your own ego with the knowledge you have while desperately trying not to get stomped on by someone better than you; I don't know why we say "competitive" and "non competitive" exams; who are we kidding? All exams in India are competitive.

Anyhow, I haven't failed, and honestly I can't say I won't miss the mornings before a UG exam. They sure are something else!
Can't wait for the next step; now, stuff gets real. Gandhi Hospital, here I come.