I have worked in clinical oncology in Pakistan. As an oncology physician, I was not supposed to interact with patients in the ER. Recently, I had the opportunity to work with recent medical graduates in an emergency medicine setting. This experience was new for me, as I have been focused on oncology for a long time.
However, that’s the beauty of life—it pushes us to do things we never thought we would. These experiences help us discover our hidden potentials and capabilities that we never knew we possessed.
With nearly eight years of practical experience, I was entrusted with the responsibility of supervising new doctors. I oversee four junior doctors who are newly graduated from medical school and have completed their mandatory one-year internship. Among them, there are two male doctors and two female doctors, all of whom are quite young.
A few weeks before I joined the hospital, my colleagues had started their positions but were anxious because the hospital had not yet hired the doctor who would supervise them. They were worried and curious about who their immediate senior would be. On my first day, after spending a few hours talking with me, they felt relieved to find that I was not the intimidating figure they had been dreading.
The young doctors are incredibly talented, but they have never worked in a private hospital before and tend to be a bit impatient. They often have reservations about various orders from the administration. Having worked in a private setting for a few years, I take the time to explain things to them in simple terms. They feel relieved to learn new concepts and come to trust that I will handle the situation, allowing them to focus on their work without worry.
I am responsible for creating the duty roster, managing patients who present in the emergency department, those admitted to the in-patient wards, and performing minor surgical procedures. Honestly, I have been enjoying working in this role, only because of them. The only thing I dislike is when they call me “madam.”
It makes me smile to see their ambition and eagerness to learn. They are incredibly cooperative and lively, always talking and laughing. It’s a wonderful sight to see young doctors in a relaxed state.
Perhaps I have been tense for too long.
All of them are very close to my heart, but one male doctor, Dr. TA, is particularly special to me. He is extremely hilarious and never leaves me alone. He talks constantly and never lets me sit in peace for even a moment. While he is preparing for the residency entrance exam, he doesn’t seem to study at all; he just keeps talking to me and wasting his time. He reminds me a lot of my fourteen-year-old brother—extremely clingy and adorable.
Whenever I ask him, “T. Aik kaam karoge?” (Can you do this thing?)
His answer is always, “Mere liye kya hukam hai, madam?” (I would do as you order me!)
Over time, my colleagues have become very open with me. They share their concerns about various issues and appreciate my input when they encounter challenges with patients. I always ensure they don’t feel overworked or uncomfortable in any way. Almost everyone expresses their gratitude for having me as their senior. This is especially true for Dr. TA, who approaches everything in his unique way.
One day, there was a disagreement between him and me, and that was the first and only one I can remember. The argument was resolved after I agreed to let him do things his way.
He became quite emotional and said, “Aap jo bhi kahen, main haazir hoon!” (I will do as you say.)
He then added, “Aap mujhe yeh bhi kahen ke Mustafa Plaza se chhalang laga do, main haazir hoon!” (You can even tell me to jump from Mustafa Plaza, and I will do it!).
I found it so amusing that I laughed extremely hard.
One day, he asked me, “Ap dua kren k me pass ho jaun!” (Please pray for me so that I pass the exam.)
I promised him that I would pray for him every day.
Today, when another colleague asked about the status of his preparations, he replied, “Main ne Dr. Daman ko dua k lye kaha hua ha.” (I have asked Dr. Daman to pray for me.)
A few days ago, TA brought his friend to me, who was accompanied by his grandfather. The grandfather had been diagnosed with bladder cancer, and TA wanted him to be evaluated due to my background in oncology. Fortunately, we had a few patients that day who were stable, so I took them to another room. I reviewed the reports extensively, formulated a treatment plan, and explained everything to them. It took almost thirty minutes, but in the end, they were extremely satisfied and happy.
When TA went out to see them off, he returned and mentioned that they were inquiring about where this cancer doctor practices privately. I was pleased by this but tried to play it cool; I told TA that it was a consultation worth 5,000 PKR that he managed to get for free.
There are many stories to share here, and most of them are incredibly funny and silly. However, what compelled me to write this essay was a conversation I had with Dr. TA yesterday.
It was almost 8 p.m., and I had discharged most of the patients. Fortunately, we had some time to enjoy tea together in the ER. Dr. TA said, “Madam aik baat kahun. Madam aap sach mein bohat achay ho.” (Madam, can I tell you something? You are very nice.)
“Kyun?” (Why?) I asked.
He replied, “Madam Allah ap jese senior sab ko dey!” (May Allah give every doctor a senior like you!)
“Kyun, sab kheriyat hai?” (Is everything alright?)
He says, “Madam aap itne parhe likhe ho. Aap apna kaam kitni dedication se karte ho. Aap mareez kitna khush kar k bhejty ho, humein kitne achey se rakhty ho. Apne kharchey pe chaye pilatay ho. NG Foleys b kar lete ho. Kabhi b yeh nahi kehty k main senior hun, main yeh nahi karungi. Daant’tey nahi ho. Or Bykea pe b chalay jatay ho akele. Ap kitne bahadur ho. Aap sach me bohat achay ho. Main aap ki tarah ban’na chahta hun.”
(Madam, you are well qualified and perform your work with great dedication. You bring joy to your patients and treat us well. You even spend your own money so we can have tea. You handle tasks like passing nasogastric tubes and Foley catheters on your own, and you never refuse to do small tasks just because of your seniority. Instead of scolding us for our mistakes, you support us. You also show no fear when riding home on a motorbike. You are truly an admirable person, and I aspire to be just like you!)
I expressed my gratitude for his generous compliment. There is no greater success than when a junior aspires to be like their senior. This feeling of happiness is more valuable than money. His compliments made me happy, but later, as I was on my way home, I felt sad. I realized that my hard work and dedication stemmed from the circumstances I was born into and my lifelong struggle to break free from the cycle of extreme poverty. This low self-esteem compelled me to constantly fight to prove my self-worth throughout my life.
Making patients satisfied involves listening to their concerns, addressing even minor issues, and thoroughly examining them. This approach helps create a positive experience at the hospital. I reflect on past moments when my family and I waited in long lines at public sector hospitals and felt disheartened by inattentive doctors.
The loneliness and the sense that there was no one around me made me self-reliant. I realized that there would never be anyone there for me. My ability to love others stemmed from my experience of feeling unloved and unappreciated.
In addition, I strive to make my colleagues comfortable by ensuring they don’t experience the frustrations I had to face during difficult times. Simple gestures, like providing food and tea, can significantly brighten their day. This lesson comes from my own experiences in environments where I felt neglected and unsupported.
Reflecting on all of this makes me feel sad. However, the understanding that I am not passing on the same trauma to my juniors is a relief. It makes me consider why people say that our past shapes us but does not define us.
I pray and hope that my young colleagues have a successful and bright future ahead. May their lives be filled with comfort and peace of mind. I hope they never have to suffer as I did.
I wish for them to have a smile on their faces every day and never to be brought to tears.
I hope their eagerness to learn new things remains strong, and that they pursue everything with fierce passion, not just to prove their self-worth to the world. May they never settle for less.
Damane Zehra is a radiation oncology resident in Pakistan.
