Work is Life
Growing up, I studied so that I could work at my dream job. I wanted to be a doctor and a teacher. The West Bengal Medical services provided the opportunity to do both. The hard toil of working in a Government Medical College didn’t deter me. Cut to 2013, I joined my dream job. Only to realize dreams need to have complete disclaimers.
I loved being a doctor and teaching medical students. But the work conditions and hours were draining me mentally and physically.
Being a new mother to a 10-month-old in a new town didn’t help matters.
I felt like a duck out of the water, out of sorts trying to grab the torn edges of my beautiful dream.
My husband was in the same college, and that was a big help. I struggled with the help of a few of my colleagues and my husband, who seemed to grow wings and helped me in numerous ways both inside and outside.
Then on a fateful day in 2018, a notice arrived. A transfer to a new location for him.
What would I do? How could I work at what I loved? I also loved being a family. A broken home in childhood makes you appreciate the power of family support. That memory and the inner dialogue helped me decide.
I resigned. So did the husband. We started our private practice.
Things were going well. We still juggled house and work, but it was like tango. The sleep was better, no more nights, and my time was my time.
There was controlled chaos. I was still continuing my writing journey, which I started in 2014.
But then Corona happened.
Lockdown for one a half months with hardly any N95 or face shields, I was ready to say goodbye to my ENT practice. But my husband asked me.
What will you do? This is what you like doing, right?
I wondered. Is it worth risking my life? But you can’t run from your own life, and we limped back to working carefully with sanitization practices in place, and life moved along.
It’s a challenging journey, but this past year made me realize how much I liked helping people listening to their stories, about what they think happened with their bodies and then finding a solution. It’s almost like being a detective.
While I enjoy the work and its perks, COVID 19 also made me realize we are all in things because it helps us earn with dignity.
Money is such a hard thing to talk about.
On Seth’s blog, he asked -
How many people would be doctors if you couldn’t get paid for?
A good question and the reason I am writing today. By 2030 India will have a surplus of Unemployed doctors. I wonder what that would mean?
Because Unemployed doesn’t mean not earning. Does it mean India would have fulfilled its healthcare personnel demand?
Or that backdoor entry and lateral entry to become doctors be so rampant that everyone is a doctor?
One wonders really what the future holds for Healthcare professionals the world over.
While quantity is crucial, quality is even more critical.
As a medical student growing up in a middle-class home, I wanted nothing more than the ability to earn a decent salary with humane working hours.
Until your Post-graduate training is over, you are unlikely to get the latter.
My problem arose when I continued struggling with night duties even after 8 years of finishing my training.
Certain health challenges and being a new mom made me want to think out of the box.
Back in 2014, I had started something which helped me dream a Digital dream. But things always get worse before they get better.
Telehealth in 2020 made me realize I missed interacting with patients face to face. Sometimes you don’t know what you want till you have it and then it could be too late?
How is work mobile and digital unless there’s good quality safe WiFi in public places? How can your work be flexible if you are stuck to your laptop,if you can’t take holidays when you want to? How is it convenient if you can’t sleep like a normal Human being?
Recently a good friend declared, “I don’t want my daughter to be a doctor. It’s heartbreaking and just too difficult.” She is a brilliant student, hardworking with an entrepreneurial spirit, someone whose opinion I can’t take lightly.
It’s a sad day indeed when short-sighted education and employment policy make women stop working at things they are trained for.
It’s just too hard. The mother’s guilt, the need to earn, and broken dreams.
Picking up the pieces, we dare to dream again because all I have is now, this moment when I am tapping away on my phone.
Doctors want to earn just as much as the teacher, engineer, artist,lawyer.No one would do what they do if, at the end of the day, they would need to beg, borrow or steal to sustain their family.
A society that devalues education is sad.
Should Medical colleges teach the business and legal side of being a doctor? A good idea, I think. Would anyone be a doctor if they don’t get paid?
Not many, I guess. I probably wouldn’t have it as my primary career. Writing, painting, and all the creative work I do make me understand a cardinal truth. All the hobbies and work need to support themselves. You can’t do it without a sustainability plan.
Would anyone be an engineer if they couldn’t earn? Unlikely.
Sometimes the questions you ask yourself are more important than the questions you ask others.
My husband likes to work and hates these what-if questions. Me, I live for them
On another note, I pitched for building a swimming pool for my husband and another friend. Both agreed on the brilliance of my idea. But had a stumbling query. We planned to use the pool with three families once a week
What do we do about the water? Do we keep it?
We would need to keep it under lock and key to avoid trespassers. If we decide to clean the water every week, what about the wastewater? How to recycle it? What about the costs?
The technicalities of making dreams a reality need to get better. For now, I will dream about a day at the pool, swimming, sipping lemonade, reading a book, and living.
Will any dream happen without money? Who will pay for your dreams if you don’t earn enough to make them happen?