Chapter 3
— RITU —
Babies were the best friends one could have.
They did not look at you with anything other than love, they always laughed after a cry, they always forgot what had gone wrong a second ago, they flung their arms around you and hugged you when you asked, and when they rested in the cocoon of your arms — they made you feel safe.
Ritu glanced at the little baby girl resting on her chest, her curls fluttering in the whirring fan, her thumb in her mouth, eyelashes tittering over her skin as they slowly went down.
Early morning had been a meltdown. She had woken up to MM screaming murder and then Maya’s soothing voice.
Ritu had stayed in her room for another hour, showering, getting ready, dissecting her stuff for some decent work clothes.
She had just carried one work tunic and one shirt to India, expecting zero professional commitments for the next three months.
Now she was stuck with three days a week of OPD consultations and emergency interventional procedures. Thank you, Dr. Shravan.
After changing into her white oversized shirt over a pair of black stretchy leggings that would have to do as professional attire until she ordered a few trousers, Ritu had come downstairs.
Only to find Gautam working on his laptop perched precariously on the hand rest of the sofa, MM stuck to his chest like a limpet, wide awake but quiet with the pacifier in her mouth.
She had instantly taken over baby duty as he had gone up to get ready.
After half an hour of playing, jumping on the sofa, tight huggies and raspberry kisses, MM was on her way to sleep and Ritu didn’t want to move. Even when the clock struck 8. She gaped at the hour hand. If she wanted to reach town on time, she would have to book an Uber now.
“Maasi!” Maya’s whisper shout made her eyes whirl up to the stairs.
“What?” She whispered back.
“You are supposed to get up late and enjoy this holiday! Why is this G making you babysit?! G!!!” She whisper-shouted upstairs.
“Maya!” She called out, mindful of the baby that had already gone to sleep.
“What?!”
Ritu pointed at herself. She was ready for the day already.
Maya rolled her eyes, coming down the stairs, still in her pyjamas.
She carefully took MM from her chest and laid her on the sofa, picking cushions off the lounger and barricading her.
Then she came and lay down beside her, her head half on her thigh — “Why are you ready already?”
Ritu flicked her forehead — “I have appointments.”
“Today is new year.”
“And I’ll be home by afternoon.”
Maya pouted. “Your Shravan sir is playing dirty. He knows you are on vacation and is still making you take over.”
“His sister got TB, Maya. He can’t leave her. He can’t leave his patients in a lurch either. Come on. It’s just mornings, thrice a week. And anyway, I have nothing to do here except eat my weight in roadside kachra, get loosies, then do another bingefest.”
“Lunch is at home today, by the way, even G is coming back.”
“Isn’t your office closed until tomorrow?”
“He has a client meeting. On new year morning!” Maya widened her eyes.
Then — “Oh!” She jumped to her feet and folded her hands together, bending down to touch her feet and tickle them.
“Saal Mubarak.” Ritu laughed, trying to push her off.
Maya just grabbed her foot and held it up, pushing her to her back, like they used to do as kids.
“You are a mom! Grow up,” Ritu playfully kicked her, still half-lying, reaching down into her tote bag for a hundred rupee note.
“Here,” she held it out.
“You are a world-famous cardiologist, pay the kids more!” Maya held the folded hundred-rupee note up.
“Correct, sorry.” Ritu reached into her change pocket and grabbed a one rupee coin and placed it in Maya’s open palm — “It’s always 101. Enjoy.”
“You are such a kanjoos with me! You got me only one suitcase of stuff and got two for MM.”
“Who is the baby between you two?”
“Kanjoos. I find all kanjooses in my life!”
“Excuse me?” Gautam came down the stairs, ready in his formals.
“What excuse me? You did not let me buy those gold tea lamps last week!”
“They were not real tea lamps, they would not light up.”
“Still. It’s Diwali shopping.”
“Then shouldn’t it be about diyas that actually light up?”
“Don’t use that stupid logical tone on me…”
“Ok, ok, I am out of here,” Ritu got to her feet and grabbed her tote.
“Wait, I can drop you, Ritu.”
“I am going to Horniman Circle.”
“Oh… I’m off to Juhu.” Gautam reached down to look at his daughter, still sleeping. “Who would believe she was howling sixty minutes ago?”
“How are you going, Maasi?”
“Uber, it’s already on its way.”
“Cool, then come back before 1. You too, G. It’s Saal Mubarak lunch.”
————————————————————
“Let’s look at your lipid profile next time and we will take it from there, hmm?” Ritu smiled at the old couple. Mr. Agarwal looked happier today, probably because she had allowed him one piece of kaju katli this weekend in honour of Diwali.
“Thank you, Doctor,” his wife grinned. “We don’t have to think about bypass now?”
“I am not writing it off yet. We may need another scan. If things come out cleaner, then maybe it’s better to let the surgery be. At 98, quality of life matters more, isn’t it, Uncle?”
The man laughed feebly — “I have seen everything but the inside of an operation theatre. I would like to keep it that way.”
“It’s in your hands then. Eat well, walk, avoid fried and sweets. Keep this new dosage going.”
“You talk like my granddaughter now.”
“Then you listen like that, we are both talking for your healthy heart and a century.”
“They want to organise a cricket match for my 100th birthday.”
“Good, start prepping to score a century.”
The couple laughed, getting to their feet and walking out slowly.
The door was left half-ajar behind them.
Ritu grabbed the carafe of water on her table, poured a glass and pushed to her feet.
The laptop screen pinged with the details of the next patient.
She had tipped her glass up, so she just reached out and hit enter.
Her eyes went to the clock. 11.20. She hoped this was the last patient. If she were to reach back by 1, then she would have to leave here by 12 at the earliest.
A knock sounded on the half-open door. She glanced up, and her eyebrows shot up.
“So it’s true. You are still here.”
“You are welcome to take an about turn.”
Please just go. I can leave early.
“You can’t keep your professional and personal lives separate, Doctor?”
“There is no personal life with you. Come in.”
She set her glass of water down as he ambled in. Today, the obnoxious man looked normal for a change. His attire wasn't any different from last time, just a different coloured silk shirt — cream. But his eyes looked less entitled. He set his reports down on the desk in front of her.
“Sit,” Ritu tipped her chin.
“You sit first.”
She scowled — “This is my OPD. I run it the way I want. If I ask you to sit, you sit. If I ask you to lie down, you do it without question.”
His eyebrow cocked up.
“Take that middle-school attitude and your reports away if that’s how you are going to behave. Sit, I said.”
His wry amusement turned to outrage. As if something terrible was keeping him here, he sat. Then leaned back in his chair, crossing one foot over his other knee.
“How is it that you are one of the best cardiologists on the East Coast and have no New York accent?”
Ritu took her seat and opened his reports, going through the charts and his GP’s covering letter.
Things looked better than she had expected.
His CRP sensitivity was down, as was his cardiovascular inflammation.
Her eyes found his CT reports and she held up the scan, then checked and entered his passcode into the computer to access the video.
“Have you had any restlessness this week? Pain, numbness, pressure, discomfort?” She asked, like she had learnt to do in her years working under some of the best cardiologists in the states.
While you read reports, watched CDs, checked scans, took BP — always keep your patient engaged.
They should never gauge anything from your face as you reviewed their reports.
A good doctor was first a good mind controller.
You had to make them as calm and comfortable as possible, even if the news was bad. Especially if the news was bad.
Now, this holding-a-conversation-while-reviewing was second nature to her.
“Last night.”
Ritu glanced at him from her screen.
“This woman had the most cutting things to say to me. Other than that, no discomfort.”
“Ok,” she set down his reports. “You must have heard by now that Dr. Shravan is not returning until next month. I am here, taking over for the time being, and you do not want to talk straight to me. To be honest — neither do I. I will review your reports today, and after that, I will ask Anu Madam to refer you to another cardiologist.”
“I want to see you.”
She stared at him. Was he joking?
“What do the reports say?”
She scoffed — “What is wrong with you?”
“I haven’t slept well last night.”
“Not today. Generally. What is the problem with you? I am telling you that you do not have to come here again. And the cardiologist we refer you to will be good. Rest assured.”
“Am I high risk?”
Ritu blinked, seeing the confident, simmering outrage dull down to the scared patient she had glimpsed behind the thorny, cocky man on his last visit.
“Did you show these reports to your GP?” Ritu took her eyes back to the screen, marking the flow of blood in his heart.
“This one came today.”
She nodded, switching out of the window and turning to him — “These reports are better than what I expected.” She got to her feet and walked around the table, pushing the blood pressure pole close to him.
Without even asking, he began to remove his fancy cufflink and roll his shirt sleeve.
This close to him, she could hear the thump of his heart, going softer and softer.
He was relaxing. His breaths were also less audible.
“So, no angioplasty or CABG?” He asked, suddenly vulnerable as his face tipped to her while she wrapped the cuff around his bicep.
“Six weeks,” she pumped the machine, the stethoscope buds in her ears. She heard the tick, noted the value. 130. Another tick, and the second value. 80. She pulled the earbuds off and slung the stethoscope around her neck, uncuffing him.
“130/80,” she pronounced. That was another thing she had learnt from her seniors. Announce if the values were under control.
“It came 120/80 this morning.”
“Your body is fresh in the morning. As we spend the day, pressure is bound to rise. Especially at your age.”
“This is normal then?”
She nodded, pushing the pole back and returning to her side.
“No checkup today?” He pointed to his chest.
“No. Don’t repeat all the tests next week, go for these three.
” She grabbed her bag and pulled out the only letterhead pad she had carried to India.
She listed down the tests. “Continue with your current medication. Have your GP take your BP twice a day. If not, get a BP machine at home and take it yourself. Anything above 140/90, and immediately report to him. I know a cardiologist in the suburbs who is known for…”
“I don’t want another cardiologist.”
“Mr. Patel…”
Her phone began to buzz. Maya. Ritu ignored it, signing the prescription and pushing it towards him. “A doctor-patient relationship cannot be like this. In all moral conscience, I will not treat you knowing how you act and how it can push me to rea…”
“So what? Difficult people do not get medical care?”
“There is no dearth of cardio…”
Her phone buzzed again. And buzzed continuously.
“Excuse me.” She picked up her mobile and toggled the answer button — “Hey, I am with a patient, can I…”
“Maasi!” Maya was crying.
“What happened?”
She was whimpering.
“Maya? Are you ok? Where is MM?”
“Maas… in her room… can’t get up.”
“What? Why?”
“I fell.”
“You fell?”
The man in front of her rose to his feet.
“I was up on a stool in the hall and slipped… Can’t get up, my back is frozen… MM is crying in her room… I can’t go to her… Maasi where are you?” She was sobbing. “G is also not picking up his phone.”
“Ok, stop crying. What is hurting?”
“Nothing… I can’t feel my back.”
“Alright, don’t turn or move. Lay back. Take deep breaths. I am on the line, and leaving from here.”
“Ok…”
Ritu hit mute, grabbed the intercom and dialled the reception.
“Yes, Doctor?”
“Anu Madam, do we have any emergency patients?”
“No, Doctor. Mr. Patel was the last for the day.”
“Ok. I am out of here.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
She set the receiver down, grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Mr. Patel, get these tests done and double down on your lifestyle changes. You are young, your cardiovascular health is good, there is a probability you can overcome this without a procedure…”
“How are you going?”
“Huh?” She stopped.
“You have a car?”
“Uber, fuck, Uber!” She breathed, pulling her mobile down with Maya’s breaths in her ear. She pulled up the app.
“I will drive you.”
“What?”
“It’s an emergency, Doctor. Just let me drive you.”
Ritu did not think. He gathered his reports, and she switched off the lights. “I will drive.”
“What? Why?”
“You do not get to have adrenaline rushes. Hand over the keys,” she opened her palm. She thought he would fight at this ‘emasculation’ but he just dropped the keys in her hand and plucked her phone. “What should I do with Maya?”
“Connect it to your car’s Bluetooth.” Ritu hit unmute and toggled the speakerphone. “Maya?”
“Yes, Maasi?” She was breathing slower now.
“Can you feel your back now?”
“Barely.”
“Ok, ok, MM is not crying now?”
“I think she cried herself to sleep.”
“Ok, relax. Keep breathing. We are on our way,” she kept striding out of the clinic and down the alley of the heritage building. Instead of taking the lift that might cut off the network, she took the stairs, running down — “You take the lift,” she ordered Nilay as she snatched her phone back.
“Ritu?”
Her name on his mouth made her turn at the base of the stairs.
“The Moonlight Blue Porsche Cayenne parked right outside.”