The Fine Line Between Destiny and Intervention....

The heels of my footwear make an assaulting noise as they slap the marbled floor smeared with tiny drops of red at places. The pace increases as the soles touch the stairs. The narrow corridor flanked by walls made dirty by the ‘paan’ stains at the corners, lead to the room.

A lady sits pensive, her hands surrounding her flexed knees. Beside her, sleeps quietly the 4-year-old. From the area that was left bare, his scapula and back bone were clearly visible as if the skin concealed only the colour of the bones, sans the muscles or fat to hide their contour.

On another bed, a small girl, probably 11 years of age, comes alive in sudden motion when her body shapes itself into a bow and froth keeps dribbling from her mouth. The father holds her by his hands as her back arches into a typical bow. The mother rushes to wipe clean the froth from her mouth. Not that there is a hue and cry about her child having an attack, she is as composed as everyone in the room. With each fresh attack of her daughter, she has learned to multiply her patience.

A cute little fellow plays with a balloon and cheerfully replies when I ask him his name. He has recovered a lot. The tube connecting his chest with a bag hanging down his bed drains the fluid from his lungs. He pulls his balloon away as I playfully try to snatch it away from him. His mom sits on the corner of the bed and smiles a relieved laughter which had disappeared for a few days in the past.

While there are kids with congenital heart diseases who turn blue at the slightest attempt of activity, there are also those who turn out restless like the 11-year-old and just fail to have control on them once an attack starts.

As I stand there, trying to figure out what they might be suffering from, with the very little knowledge that I possess, I am compelled to think- “How thick is the line that separates destiny from intervention”. Can each one of them be saved or restored to a normal livelihood if Medical Sciences intervene? Can the intervention bridge the distance and change the destiny of these less lucky children and their parents?

Some sense of relief pervades as a confident doctor passes by the 4-year-old, muttering,” He’s going to be alright.” I can only vaguely fathom how reassuring that sentence is for the parents as they sit hoping their children will play, shout, laugh and sulk in front of them once again. Hopes, prayers and sleepless, they wait to hear the chuckles again………

But this is far more than just CHUCKLING, isn't it ??  :D