The Attic above the Labour Room

strategie opzioni binarie vincenti - Saxo trader demo. Shyam Networks participated in the recently held 3rd Security India 2011 organised by Comnet Conferences, a division of Exhibitions India Group. The conference themed as “Changing Landscape of Security & Surveillance”, took place at Hotel Shangri-La Eros on 7th July 2011 at New Delhi. Dr Paranjothy, introduced us to Obstetrics and Gynaecology when we were a captive audience in the Attic above the Labour Room.

see url I do not know if I can describe her in mere letters and words. She was a 3-D personality with tremendous depth. The dimunitive lady you saw walking down the corridors and wards of the hospital, with purpose and with her white doctor’s coat flapping behind, her was only the tip of the iceberg .

go here Dr. Paranjothy was a formidable personality.   You could almost feel her presence before you saw her. She had an indefinable aura of authority. She stood for discipline with NO shortcuts. People would be standing to attention when she walked past. She had the most piercing youthful eyes on any mature face that I have ever seen. Eyes that missed nothing. Grown men have been reduced to tears on occasion, when they tried to pull the wool over her eyes.

hornet gay dating app As final year students, we had to submit a record of twenty normal deliveries that we had conducted on our own, before our final exam. In order to collect our cases, we lived in batches of four in a Room above the Labour Room. Babies come unannounced and we had to be there all the time. And we could not think of leaving them till we had seen them through all 3 stages of labour. This was completely non-negotiable in Dr. Paranjothy’s Book.

get link It was almost like a punishment posting .The bare room had a single window on one wall, with an attached bathroom in a corner.There were 4 uncomfortable beds in the centre of the room, placed side by side almost touching each other. These beds, made up with grey -hospital-sheets-that-were-once-white, were kept deliberately uncomfortable, so that no medical student, would sleep through a summons from the labour room.

pub site de rencontre On one wall of the Attic Room, hung a large calendar, with choice graffiti scrawled on it, depicting various degrees of captivity in the Labour Room. Someone , no correct that to Everyone, had gleefully crossed out their fortnight in the Labour Room, with Dr. Paranjothy .

site rencontre homme celibataire gratuit We were expected to go to sleep in our sarees pinned and pleated, so that we would save time getting dressed.  Our white coat, slippers and stethoscopes were placed strategically at the foot end of the bed , close enough for grabs. No one cared if you had not brushed your teeth or combed your hair. But, all hell would break loose, if your nails were long and lacquered.  Or if your hair was not tied up and out of harms way. There was a bell that connected us to the labour room down stairs. When it rang, we would tumble down in stages of disarray, to receive the patient, with or without Dr Paranjothy, under the watchful eye of the Sisters in the Labour Room, headed by Sister Victor , the mother figure we all gravitated to when we were in trouble.

click here Many of the patients were young and frightened Primigravidas admitted for their first delivery. They were unbooked cases, who had never been examined in the OPD . The entire routine of hospitalisation was unfamiliar and alien. The boys in our batch, swaggered in with smug faces, only after the nurses had cleaned and prepped the patients.

meilleur site de rencontres internationales We girls, on the other hand, had to do everything from scratch. That was Dr. Paranjoth”s rule and her explanation was that boys never did ObGyn anyway and therefore they did not need to waste their time. She like everyone else in the early 60s, presumed that every girl had only one career option and that would be to end up as an obstetrician. Not because the girls were not smart enough to pursue other careers. Only because no pregnant lady would part her legs to a Male Obstetrician.

There were no shortcuts in our training. We would sit through long and protracted labour, only to lose them to a Caesarean section which disqualified them from our “normal delivery” records. Ours had to be normal deliveries.

buy nizoral in india Sometimes the patient would find it difficult to pass urine as labour progressed.

albenza buy online Student, go and open the tap in the bathroom
Leave it on half open, she would say.
The sound of dripping water would encourage the patient to pass.

buying kamagra online She was right. The patient would pass eventually.   The rest of us in the Labour Room would also come under the influence of the sound of the dripping tap eventually and we would run upstairs to the washroom, cross- legged with bladders reaching our clavicles.




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