As a third year medical student, I first witnessed a normal delivery, half hidden behind the partition of the delivery cubicle. It was probably around nine in the evening and the labor room was left in charge and in mercy of two midwives in the ever-busy Vani Vilas Hospital, Bangalore.
My first reaction, as I watched the baby’s head crowning was- “I mustn’t get pregnant! (Correction: NO ONE must get pregnant!) And most certainly, I must NEVER become an Obstetrician!” I broke my promise on both accounts, the former twice and the latter for a lifetime!
The second reaction was- “My God! Labor is a cacophonous affair!” There was a constant cross talk...no. Talk would be too mild a word. Constant tug-o-war of words or constant cross-tonguing would be at least closest! The woman in labor wailing in varying decibels (often the higher end of spectrum); the nurses matching the pitch, trying cajoling-reasoning-chiding-scolding in no particular order. The women raise the bar, head bang-screech or at times, get up in an attempt to dart out of the labor room before the next contraction paralyzes them. The junior nurses and ayahs play run-and-catch; try scientific explaining (I wonder if any patient would ever understand labor physiology while laboring,- to understand which, I have struggled from student days to date!) And finally, when labor is far too progressed, the staff learns to ignore the woman’s irrelevant incoherence and focus on the emerging newborn. Perhaps the lusty cry of the baby is the only aurally pleasant sound in a functioning labor room!
World over, irrespective of the languages spoken, the labor room lingua franca is the same. “I can’t” says the patient, “Yes you can,” retort the staff! However, 80% of the laboring woman’s in-labor vocabulary is devoid of any meaning. The intonations from those vocal cords are often of the primitive type and much less of any words or sensible sentences. It is only the supporting staff that speaks in decipherable language. Therefore, the labor cot itself is a-linguistic!
Over years, it dawned on me that pain is universally similar and hence, like other human emotions, has no language. However the manifesting intonations vary. ‘Ayya-yyooo!’ down south, “Hai, Hai” up north; both meaning “I can’t bear.” At times also communicated as loud hisses or muffled moans through tightly pursed lips, labor pain redefines the boundaries of a language!
Then there are others who call out to all their relatives-mother, father, the family deities and of course to the sister, ayah or doctor. I have wondered why women do not call out to their husbands more often and in my greenhorn days was admonished with a cold stare and a snort when I suggested to a laboring woman that she call out to her husband instead of her neighbor! Of course, I can never forget the fair, frail woman who was admitted to the labor room of Lady Hardinge Medical College, New Delhi, one summer evening. She surprised all of us when she called out ‘Jeeja-ji, jeeja-ji, jeeja-ji....’ throughout her labor!
Yet another unforgettable patient was from the labor room (cot No.2) in St. Martha’s Hospital, Bangalore. She was the only one laboring that evening and surprisingly the labor room was uncomfortably quiet. As labor pangs wracked her, she only squirmed, twisted and turned, never once uttering a single word! “She is hearing and speech challenged,” said the midwife on duty. On looking at her closely, I could recognize and relate, from having attended to so many patients in labor, to all the unsaid words, suffering and pain she was going through in labor. Her facial expressions and animal whimpers spoke volumes and much louder than those women who could speak ever had! Mute in pain! Was this how animals went through labor? Helpless on two accounts-labor pain and inability to vent it out!
Mercifully, Dr. Asha, who was the consultant on call that evening, had a working knowledge of the sign language and it was indeed a relief that there was someone from our side who understood the poor woman in pain! That night, after delivering her, in an uncharacteristically silent labor room, I conclude it was better off for my psyche to have a room full of throaty women than a vocally challenged one! I cannot bear to recall that helpless, beseeching look in her tear-laden eyes every few minutes. It made me acknowledge another reason why we must remain indebted for the gift of language (any language). I realized that we need a language-it matters not which-in times of pain...for happiness can hold on its own quite well without a language!
Thus, did I learn to accept the unique lingual diatribe that reigns in any labor room-North or South, Public or Corporate Hospital. The labor room is the most unique lingual predicament where language, but not its meaning must be encouraged.(No teacher of Linguistics would approve of that!) Letting the woman vent out and express her anguish while, the meanings, however explicit, under labor room atmosphere are best ignored. Because most patients say the most nasty things about most people- beginning from their husbands and rounding off with vocal and physical abuse of the attending doctor! Often complain that the staff is torturing her, not letting her go out but making her go through labor and even killing her, forcing her to bear down! Meanings must and are always discounted here! And surely enough, none of us bears any grudge about those mouth-fulls or the kicks and pinches or punches that we receive while delivering. And after laboring. alongside her, we feel worthwhile and ready for the next patient, as this one, being wheeled out of labor room says, “Thank you all so much. Indeed words fail me!”
 |
| Would love to deliver her.... |
No comments:
Post a Comment