***********************************************************************************************************
I don't blame her...I have seen worse samples of handwriting in my students' answer scripts and gave them immense benefit of doubt ;)
After making us sit for a good hour, the matron, bless her soul, came to the bench with a bottle of liquid with stopper and administered one drop in each waiting eye and left.
I came to know later that the medicine she poured into us is called Atropine, an alkaloid extract from deadly plants like datura, mandrake and belladona. And it has a variety of infamous uses.
The specific use of atropine for the eye docs those ancient days was to enlarge the pupils of the eyes...some pupils.
After another hour she came and examined our eyes and when she wasn't very satisfied, she put another drop or two for good measure.
By and by, the eye-doc came in his white overalls and entered his sanctum with the flourish of a man fresh from his dubious surgery.
And we were called in one by one.
At last came my turn and I was astounded by the huge machine he had in front of his eyes...must be the latest ophthalmoscpe that the government could buy. It had an extension on its front...a corrugated scale jutting out.
And he ordered me to sit down, and that was easy. And he peered into each of my eyes by turn and apparently was not happy to find anything seriously wrong with my retina or cornea or lens or whatever. But he was too proud to admit his failure. And then he asked his matron to insert lenses one by one into the grooves of his scale and perhaps tried to focus the light beam on to my retina. And was unhappy. It looked that the light spot was right in focus without any lens whatever.
Then came the physical...
He turned the giant scope to one side and asked me to read the chart hanging on the wall at the right distance...and I read it like a breeze.
He was still not happy and turned the scale around and inserted one lens after the other asking "Is this better or is the previous one better...now...now"...turning the lenses on their axes this side and that.
This was one question I could never answer well in all my life...everything looked better than the previous one.
At last he got disgusted and I felt I failed in his viva.
And he asked me to get lost for now and collect the report in the evening.
And I ran out like a bat out of hell.
Only to face the midday sun of Vizagh in midsummer.
And my eyes hurt like they were being burned from within and without...the matron was too busy and hungry and perhaps forgot to put the antidote or whatever of atropine that would squeeze the iris back into its normal size.
I reached home somehow and slept all afternoon. And went to the ophthalmology unit to fetch my report. It read:
Right eye: Power 0.25 cyl...axis 120
Left eye: Power 0.25 cyl...axis 120
As a student of physics, I knew that 0.25 must be the least count or zero error or whatever of the lousy scope...
But my Uncle advised me to go in for specs, and those cost all my pocket money.
And I used them for a year...the sties were as fruity as ever.
One day while polishing my precious lenses, they fell down and broke like the ten commandments.
And I never bothered to replace them...
I got used to my sties which were easier to bear without specs hindering them.
My precious sties disappeared without trace as soon as I landed at IIT KGP, and never reappeared till now...touch wood!
*********************************************************************************************************
So, armed with my M. D. Uncle's heavy reco in my pocket, I gingerly entered the forbidding ophthalmology ward of the huge King George Hospital one morning at 9, cutting my classes at my University in Vizagh in 1958.
And found a bench on which there were already seated twenty or more patients suffering from various eye ailments many of them highly visible to the naked eye. And felt an intruder since I was then a young lad without specs or any obvious eye injury.
And guilty.
The door of the doctor's chamber was manned by a forbidding matron in white overalls with a white cap (or cape). And meekly handed her my reco letter. She looked at it up and down and back and forth and front and back and returned the letter to me and asked me to take my seat at the nether end of the line without fuss.
I could then see that the massive matron completely failed to read my Uncle's scrawl which was worse than Gandhiji's; but was too proud to admit it:
I don't blame her...I have seen worse samples of handwriting in my students' answer scripts and gave them immense benefit of doubt ;)
After making us sit for a good hour, the matron, bless her soul, came to the bench with a bottle of liquid with stopper and administered one drop in each waiting eye and left.
I came to know later that the medicine she poured into us is called Atropine, an alkaloid extract from deadly plants like datura, mandrake and belladona. And it has a variety of infamous uses.
The specific use of atropine for the eye docs those ancient days was to enlarge the pupils of the eyes...some pupils.
After another hour she came and examined our eyes and when she wasn't very satisfied, she put another drop or two for good measure.
By and by, the eye-doc came in his white overalls and entered his sanctum with the flourish of a man fresh from his dubious surgery.
And we were called in one by one.
At last came my turn and I was astounded by the huge machine he had in front of his eyes...must be the latest ophthalmoscpe that the government could buy. It had an extension on its front...a corrugated scale jutting out.
And he ordered me to sit down, and that was easy. And he peered into each of my eyes by turn and apparently was not happy to find anything seriously wrong with my retina or cornea or lens or whatever. But he was too proud to admit his failure. And then he asked his matron to insert lenses one by one into the grooves of his scale and perhaps tried to focus the light beam on to my retina. And was unhappy. It looked that the light spot was right in focus without any lens whatever.
Then came the physical...
He turned the giant scope to one side and asked me to read the chart hanging on the wall at the right distance...and I read it like a breeze.
He was still not happy and turned the scale around and inserted one lens after the other asking "Is this better or is the previous one better...now...now"...turning the lenses on their axes this side and that.
This was one question I could never answer well in all my life...everything looked better than the previous one.
At last he got disgusted and I felt I failed in his viva.
And he asked me to get lost for now and collect the report in the evening.
And I ran out like a bat out of hell.
Only to face the midday sun of Vizagh in midsummer.
And my eyes hurt like they were being burned from within and without...the matron was too busy and hungry and perhaps forgot to put the antidote or whatever of atropine that would squeeze the iris back into its normal size.
I reached home somehow and slept all afternoon. And went to the ophthalmology unit to fetch my report. It read:
Right eye: Power 0.25 cyl...axis 120
Left eye: Power 0.25 cyl...axis 120
As a student of physics, I knew that 0.25 must be the least count or zero error or whatever of the lousy scope...
But my Uncle advised me to go in for specs, and those cost all my pocket money.
And I used them for a year...the sties were as fruity as ever.
One day while polishing my precious lenses, they fell down and broke like the ten commandments.
And I never bothered to replace them...
I got used to my sties which were easier to bear without specs hindering them.
My precious sties disappeared without trace as soon as I landed at IIT KGP, and never reappeared till now...touch wood!
*********************************************************************************************************
No comments:
Post a Comment