During the days of the baby boomers like me —the good old 60s and 70s ,I had never travelled to a doctor’s clinic for any kind of ailment . Everything was comfortably managed within the four walls of my home with our family doctor visiting us . He most often would be accompanied by the most consequential person in our lives, the compounder or the apothecary as he was known during earlier times .Compounders made customised medicines and syrups according to the instructions of the doctor , as per the requirement of each patient.
Unlike the present day when I see little kids bawling away ,when they see the ‘ white coat ‘ and are cajoled and wooed by their parents with their favourites ; we used to look forward to Dr Uncle ‘s visit . He was part and parcel of our home . My mother was in charge of all our medical problems and would read up a lot on this subject too . She was extremely systematic about maintaining our temperature , symptoms etc . All in all our Florence Nightingale who would give up her night sleep in case we were in pain or having high fever. After she did her basic research on us and found it beyond her healing powers , she would call for the doctor who was also our ‘ family physician ‘. Come hail or snow , whether there was electricity or not , he never turned us down as far as my memory goes . By the time it was time for the Dr to arrive , my mother would lay a neat tea tray with a lovely tray cloth and would be all set to receive the duo . A steel vessel specially kept for boiling syringes was also filled with water and in readiness ,besides of course a towel specially kept apart for the doctor . The doctor had our entire family history of illnesses and was also well acquainted with the latest tidings of the family ! Dr SK Das the first family doctor I remember while we lived in erstwhile Calcutta , knew how to get around the child and would easily and deftly perform his job . He was followed by Dr SK Sathe in Belgaum who was another extremely kind hearted man .The doctor and patient had equal faith in each other. We did not have to explain every time what allergy ran in the family , or whether the youngest had a bout of chicken pox recently ! He knew it all . He could recount every little bit and piece regarding each individual . To add a little zest to this topic — I am sure you would recollect the old Bollywood movies where it was raining incessantly and a woman was in travail . A man with an oversized black umbrella goes to fetch ‘Dr Babu’ and despite the inconvenience, the health care giver, ever willingly accompanied the man to the house at the dead of night .Those were the days of ungrudging, compassionate doctors. The days when ‘ Mercurochrome ‘ left a red stamp on cuts and we felt good when folks asked “ what happened beta ? hope u are not too hurt “ ? ! while we would limp a little more in want of more sympathy ! The days of soft sweet swab sticks used to paint the throat which was infected , the days of painful TABC ( typhoid , para typhoid and cholera ) injections given through those gigantic , formidable needles that incapacitated us for at least two days and not to forget the small pox vaccine stamped on your upper arm like a wax government seal, forever !Good riddance to the last three . It will always remain a painful reminder of yesteryears .
The doctor would soon suggest medicines and the compounder would take out a small mortar and pestle to grind a quarter of a pink tablet , a half of a white one and some other full tablet ( not in that order or proportion ) powder it and put it into a small bottle and pour something in , akin to the colour of Rooh Afza and shake up the bottle till the powder dissolved well enough . Afterwards a paper strip with gradations was stuck neatly on the bottle which represented the dosage of the medicine . This would be mostly teaspoon measures . By then we children were super excited to see the coloured syrups and were willing to have it without a fuss thinking it to be some kind of ‘ manna ‘ from Heaven !! Thereafter some small talk with the family and the assurance that the Dr could be contacted at any time , night or day in case things went out of control . We dare think of calling up our physician these days at a wrong hour ! He wouldn’t be bothered whether we were living or dead the next day !
Come to think of it , we as children lived less complicated lives compared to the ‘ zoomers ‘ and generation Alpha . Medical research certainly had not reached such excellent standards as now and doctors were not super specialists with a long line of degrees after their name . But we didn’t have as many diseases as we suffer today. The emotional , physical drain and empty pocket experience once we escape a multi speciality 5 star hospital was at all costs avoided because there never existed one .The ‘ touch and feel ‘ technique of knowing symptoms seems to have disappeared too . Knocking on the stomach between the index and the middle finger which gave different sounds is out of fashion now ! Mr ENT does not seem to know you have a heart and the Hepatologist thinks you are a headless chicken ! By the time the one day picnic running from pillar to post , at the hospital is over and we exit , we could have developed a new disease and may be back on the ‘ revolving chair ‘ once again !! The house call doctors made things so easy for the poor and rich alike . It was like shooting fish in a barrel ! My grandparents lived in our ancestral village in Kerala . Can you imagine those antiquated days when a street light was a luxury and even if it existed ,showed light only as bright as a fading candle . The heavy rains in the south and many more such hiccups were not stumbling blocks in the way of the doctors who so kindly gave personalised medical service . My grandparents were lucky to belong to a family of doctors . By any streak of bad luck if the telephone lines were down, they would still come hook or by crook when we sent a house help on cycle who knew the short cuts like the back of his palm to fetch the Dr brother or Dr cousin . I had never seen such a huge torch before or thereafter in my life like my doctor uncles had . Without exaggeration almost as big as a Lambretta scotter ‘s headlight ! The brown leather bag with medicines was held adeptly by the apothecary cum driver who would help the Dr out of the car while a senior member of the household would perform the welcome ceremony and soon the healing process would start . Amazingly, every time with few positive sentences . “ Pengale ( elder sister in Malayalam ) there is nothing wrong with you . What made you call me ? “ If it were meal time , they would join us depending on how busy they were . Enroute the Dr might look up somebody who was ill a fortnight ago to simply enquire. These healers were the bedrock of our society . Although many methods were archaic and orthodox they kept us alive and kicking !
The system of ‘ house call ‘ doctors peaked in the 1800s . Surprisingly not many abroad and a lot many of us here are aware that the first doctor was an Indian Sushruta by name who even conducted surgeries in the second century BC .This was the branch of medicine called Ayurveda whose founding fathers were Indians . It is still a very important alternate therapy . Lot of people still believe in healing through this method . Our epics like Mahabharata and Ramayana mention very distinctly about the healing by Ayurveda . Now we have come a long way as far as medicine is concerned. But are we not losing that human touch whilst healing ? It’s becoming like any other commercial industry . I remember unmistakably, that the poor were not denied medical aid for lack of money . The compounder maintained a book with individual names in it date wise . The amount due was also written in it .People paid up as and when they got their wages . I am lucky to have seen times like that when selfless service was rendered.
Here I recollect what Nathaniel Hawthorn once said.
“ Time flies over us , but leaves its shadows behind “ !!
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