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… is the buzz word of the day. What is Mijook? you ask…
Turns out that many years ago when the world was young and crack was just a defect on a surface, the unopposed badshah of Bollywood music Bappida in an interview said that his “mijook” was inspired by many different things. As it would happen, in the unlikely-est of ways, a young not yet neurosurgeon (not me, thank you) happened to hear that and figured that this was the jargon discovery of the millennium. He christened the next post operative complication he got as a mijook case. Simply because it was messed up. Then the word, very literally, spread and even preoperative muck ups became mijooks.
A typical conversation would go thus – Chief what’s the scene? Orre Mijook man, 2 cases in hypotension post op and one’s refusing to respond to even deep pain. – And the initiator of the conversation would then sacrifice his night to the Gods of Complication and hope and pray that his pager died in the middle of the night or something.
So, one drunk night, one realised that there are more uses of mijook than just in the hospital. More alcohol later it started… the Mijook Series. They begin like most grammatically challenged jokes, with Confucius Say – and take full poetic license and humoral immunity. Examples follow…
If you leap and don’t look…. your life will be mijook
While drinking and driving if the police doesn’t let you off the hook… your life will be mijook
If you are not knowing every cranny and nook… your life will be mijook
If you answer a question correctly in rounds by fluke… your life will be mijook
If at chess you try to castle without a rook (for the more intellectual)… your life will be mijook
If after you pee you don’t shook (well there is license isn’t there).. your life will be mijook
If you are putting line and she doesn’t give second look… your life will be mijook

And so on and so forth. Try it, it can be fun. I know you’re thinking we don’t have lives and our senses of humor suck.. I agree.

But that apart, life and work go on at their respective paces. More work than life.
Snatches of news that we get to hear, I heard we got trounced at cricket but the firecracker that exploded in close vicinity to the petrol tank of my car sometime ago makes me believe we won one too. Hooray. Now can we tax all those jokers please?

And turns out the rat pack that runs the state decided to pull a fast one on the other rat pack which was beginning to drool at the thought of being at the reins of the golden egg laying goose called Karnataka. While we are all going, “Great, President’s rule. Pratibha Patil’s in charge now.” No seriously what was the BJP thinking? That that many months later the current rats would graciously step down and say, “Go forth my brothers! We have stood on your shoulders for so long, they must be sore. And all you have gotten are tit-bits of our corruption. Now it is your turn. Don’t bother throwing us any tit-bits. We’ve made enough to live through 3 recessions and an Ice Age. Go on. We are sated with our plunder and aren’t the kind to deny others a chance. Gentleman’s agreement it was, wasn’t it?” No it wasn’t you lying, two-faced money guzzling bandicoots.
But all said and done we are glad that it’s Mrs Patil right now and not either of the two factions.

I’m hoping the Left will get left behind and Mayawati becomes Prime Minister.

But then I also hope to eat three full meals and get eight hours of sleep a day. That ain’t working.

Go listen to Alanis‘ cover of Crazy. Many thanks to the wonderful person who introduced that song to me.

Tragic it is when a comment on the frequency of posts hits you deep inside. True it’s turning out to be some monthly affair. And considering I’m on call tonight and in emergency all of next month I’m guessing it’s a good thing to try write a post.
My drafts folder has some bastard child paragraph of stuff on the virtues of Centrum, a firang brand of multivitamin that has turned out to be the best in some double blind study (15331331). Incidentally common everyday instances of a double blind study are two orthopedicians reading an ECG or two neurologists reading an MRI. My stand on research unfortunately still stands despite colossal wastes of time and energy such as this and that Ignoble prize winning theory on nose picking.
The other half of the abortus has a glossary of sorts on commonly used terms in the loony bin and what they really mean. I guess after that wonderful reception to mijook, how can one stop?
Neurotic – Loose
Psychotic – orre loose
CT/MRI – Ways of avoiding letting the world know that one doesn’t have a clue as to what one is dealing with. Eg : “Sir, what is God’s name is that?” “I’m not sure, let’s get a CT and then an MRI”
Biopsy – When CT/MRI shed little light and there this gnawing compulsion to KNOW. Eg : “Sir, what in God’s name does that MRI show?” “I’m not sure, let’s go in and take a small biopsy.” Mijook it is.
Then there’s the assortment of vegetables, goners and the likes that makes the classification of patients in The World According to Garp seem the most realistic thing in that book. But those of you who haven’t read it… do. It’s a good book.
My last outpatient for a month today, which means it’s my last day to interact with the assortment of patients we get from all over the country. What about next month you say? Next month is Trauma (reminds me that there was someone who thought that a patient with trauma needed to be seen by psychiatrists, till I pointed out that trauma just meant hurt from anything, a blunt object for instance). Which means my patients to a good extent would not talk much and logic states that they’d only be from the immediate vicinity (a 100 km radius is the immediate vicinity).
We seem to get patients from everywhere. While AIIMS seemed inundated with folks from Bihar hopping on the the Garib Rath and dropping by the hospital on their way to the Qutub Minar or the Red Fort, this place seems to attract people from every state. Most commonly West Bengal. We have the dubious distinction of having the second highest patient density from there after CMC, Vellore. And there are plans to add a coach more to every train that’s heading this way from Kolkota (kolkata? Calcutta damn it) so the sick can be exported out.
When asked the average bengali answered, “Our government doesn’t feed us well so we’re all sick.” And I couldn’t resist the Ayn Rand-esque reply to communism and had to tell him that’s the result of expecting a government to feed you as opposed to going forth and getting some food like the rest of us do. And that they were the ones electing the same government for half a century. Another more worldly-wise said, “There is no guarantee in the hospitals there.” Again, the question of poor government health care arises and the irony of a communist state having poor state-run health establishments. (Kerala of course is the exception where the government hospitals run almost at par with the private sector). Then there is also the seminal question of what guarantee are we giving. But the point was lost on the man. Anyway these patients are the hardest to deal with. A lot of them do not have valid income certificates and can’t afford treatment, we of course are made privy to this fact only at the time of discharge and then a day is spent trying to waive of charges. And they are not satisfied with anything. It’s a little unfair because when we try explaining the possible deficits they would have, the language barrier might just interfere with that. But I’m guessing if you want to be treated outside you jolly well understand something outside of what you grew up speaking.
The Tamil patients also come in droves and can be incredibly annoying while giving a history of their ailment. They will invariably dwell on the various doctors they visited and what was done at each hospital and how they now have a lump in their brain and thus have arrived here for the needful. So the question “why are you here” is a bad one. The question “what is your problem” elicits a range of daily troubles like the lack of water in the village to how the crops have failed or the fish aren’t biting. They respond to direct leading questions well though and some history can be gleaned.
North Karnataka breaks one’s heart. After driving one up the wall. It is possibly the poorest place I’ve encountered. They would sell all they have and come down here and camp till admission, they’re illiterate, ill-informed, have little ability therefore to make an informed decision and constantly reiterate that they are so.
The gults as always will either hunt you down in the canteen to ask you when they’re going to be operated and when told firmly not to bother an eating neurosurgeon will pounce on you just outside the canteen or will wail at a moment’s notice.
Who’s left? The biharis who decide not to go to Delhi will drop in, the mal’s are educated but some know way too much. The locals would fit into any category above.
And I’m late so toodle–oo and pip-pip.