THE PLATTERS - BY SPEEDY

TAKING YOU BACK TO THE 50s- Speedy Mahen Gonsalkorale

Nihal (ND) wanted me to post some songs which I do on an on-line karaoke music app called SMULE

So here it is, two songs by the famous Platters who also sang the other well-loved song, The Great Pretender. One is a solo and in the other, I joined a lady and sang a duet.

These are meant to entertain you as well as amuse you and hopefully provoke you to come up with your own memories of great singers and Groups in that wonderful era.

This is form Wikipedia about them

The Platters are an American vocal group formed in 1952. They are one of the most successful vocal groups of the early rock and roll era. Originally, their distinctive sound was a bridge between the pre-rock Tin Pan Alley tradition and the burgeoning new genre. The act has gone through several personnel changes, with one of the most successful incarnations comprising lead tenor Tony Williams, David Lynch, Paul Robi, Herb Reed, and Zola Taylor. The group had 40 charting singles on the Billboard Hot 100 chart between 1955 and 1967, including four number-one hits.

Please cliek on the Blue link to hear the song.

SMOKE GETS IN YOUR EYES

ONLY YOU

 

 

Medical doctors and self-treatment

 Medical doctors and self-treatment

by Dr. Lakshman Abeyagunawardene

From Sunday Island on line: 21 February 2021. https://island.lk/medical-doctors-and-self-treatment/

At the outset, I wish to define who a “Medical Doctor” is for purposes of this article. This definition applies only to this article and nowhere else. By way of explanation, I would consider a “General Physician” (or any physician for that matter) as quite capable of treating any illness that could afflict anyone. But on the other hand, some doctors in the finer specialities like Pathologists, Radiologists and Community Medicine, would not do so with such confidence unless they have made a special effort to stay in touch with clinical medicine.

In general, it is as a General Practitioner that the average medical doctor is called upon to act when it comes to self-treatment or treatment of a relative or friend or in an emergency. Ayurvedic physicians and all other native doctors who are not registered in the Sri Lanka Medical Council have not been considered at all. Neither are Homeopathic doctors although they claim to have their own council. Needless to say, the many thousands of quacks who still enjoy a roaring practice in rural areas, rule themselves out!

Although I am an avid reader of feature articles and letters to the Editor especially on Sundays in the English newspapers, I have hardly seen any material dealing with the subject of “Medical Doctors and Self-treatment”. The reason may be that very few in the medical profession have the inclination to indulge in Sunday reading and the few who are talented and able to do so, do not have the time to engage in writing even as a hobby.

As a rule, I don’t even attempt to treat myself unless it is for a very common ailment. More importantly, what is required is the ability to differentiate a minor symptom from one that would be more serious and call for a specialist’s opinion.

 Part time clinical work

There was a time when I was doing a job in my chosen field with absolutely no clinical work. But I always had a longing to stay in touch with patients and clinical work. It was also at a time when private practice for government doctors had just been introduced. I was the regular locum for a friend on most evenings.

My own rule on self-treatment applies not only to my own family but to the extended family as well. There was a time when the first person to contact in the case of my ageing parents, sister and brother would naturally be myself, but that responsibility has dwindled since my parents are now dead and gone, my sister is married with a grown son who is himself a doctor and my brother has lived in the US since the mid-seventies. Since my marriage, I had to look after my mother-in-law who was living with us, but that was only temporarily.

Under certain circumstances, especially for minor ailments, I treat myself and my family. In my own case, it is not difficult to decide when I should see a specialist doctor. But as far as possible, I encourage my family members to seek treatment from some other doctor (often a specialist). A medical doctor should also be well versed in first aid.

 Follow-up of patients

To me, my part-time work was not merely a job that brought in extra remuneration. I often went out of my way to follow-up patients that I had referred to the major hospital in the area. Unlike the regular GP, due to the part-time nature of my work, I had much fewer patients to deal with. Thus patient follow-up was conveniently done, particularly as my own place of residence at that time was very close to the Colombo South Hospital to which the more serious patients were often referred.

 Executive in distress

This is a little story that I will not forget easily and well-worth recalling when writing about my work as a part-time family practitioner. A middle-aged male patient was brought in very late one evening when we were about to pull down shutters for the day. He had laboured breathing and a noisy wheeze. But despite his apparent distress, he looked smart and was well-dressed. At first sight, even a qualified doctor would be inclined to think of the typical asthmatic that is regularly seen with the same symptoms.

However, a little bit of the history ascertained from the accompanying family members, often make the doctor think twice before coming to any conclusion regarding a probable diagnosis. In this case, the patient’s wife kept telling me in fluent English that her husband had never had such a problem before. That proved to be a crucial point. A quick physical examination and use of the stethoscope virtually confirmed my worst fears. The blood pressure being elevated, I was already thinking of a more serious condition than an ordinary attack of bronchial asthma. Having suspected acute left ventricular failure (LVF) commonly referred to as “cardiac asthma”, I lost no time in rushing off the patient immediately to hospital. I was well-aware of the limited facilities and resources available in a GP’s clinic to tackle such emergencies, and that time was of the essence.

Without washing my hands off the case, I followed the patient in my own car as I was heading home in that same direction in any case. The doctor in the OPD at Kalubowila Hospital confirmed my tentative diagnosis, and after administering the urgently needed treatment in the OPD itself, admitted the patient to a medical ward immediately. Being a former employee of the hospital, I was able to facilitate the entire process.

The Consultant Physician who happened to be a friend told me later that the patient would have definitely died had treatment been delayed any longer. The heart condition that manifested itself as a full-blown illness at such a relatively early age was due to undetected, untreated and hence uncontrolled hypertension (high blood pressure), which he had been living with for several years. The patient (who made a full recovery) and his wife were later virtually falling over each other in expressing to me their genuine appreciation and gratitude. Some years later, I heard that my patient, who was a top executive in a reputed mercantile establishment at the time of his illness, had later been made a Director in the same company!

 Ulterior Motives

Under normal circumstances, such unusual dedication to the welfare of patients would have obviously aroused suspicion in the mind of the established doctor under whom the “locum” doctor worked. More often than not, “locums” did that with ulterior motives, “cultivating” patients for a practice that they themselves were planning to set up in the same area undercutting the erstwhile employer. But in my case, the employers being my personal friends who were well-aware of my life’s goals, ambitions and future plans, were convinced that I had no such ideas or tricks up my sleeve. My “follow-up” of patients only helped my friends with their own practice.

A few years prior to that, I consulted a Consultant Dermatologist who went through the routine of prescribing steroidal creams in the usual ascending order in terms of strength, and in the absence of progress, then went on to investigate further to rule out conditions like Bowen’s Disease (a form of skin cancer). The Consultant did a skin biopsy and various blood tests and although they proved to be negative, I was relieved. My objective right along had been to rule out such more serious condition. I stopped consulting the doctor, and was without a Dermatologist for a couple of years. I resorted to self-treatment again as I knew very well that skin ailments are difficult to treat and the best I could do was to keep it under control.

 Summary

In summary, a medical doctor whatever field he or she has specialized in, should be confident enough to treat his or her own self initially and offer appropriate advice to family, friends and neighbours, including first aid. If not, the five years of training a medical doctor undergoes, would be in vain. I should know because when flying, I have heard that familiar announcement many times, calling for volunteers from medical doctors to help out the cabin crew as they have a passenger who is ill on board the aircraft.

Musings from my Rocking Chair

 Musings from my Rocking chair

Nihal D Amarasekera

As the winter storms batter my windows I snuggle up in my rocking chair and allow my thoughts to wander far and wide. There are times I reflect lazily on the twists and turns of my life’s fandango. It is a perfect posture to meditate, ruminate and cogitate when the days work is done. I am partial to a tot of whisky to help lubricate my thoughts just taken neat as the makers recommended.

At the faculty of medicine just like at school it was the exams and the results that carried weight. This produced a pecking order called the order of merit. There was room for expressions of individuality and pomposity but these situations were rare. Although those at the top of this list seldom made a song and dance about it there was a certain awe and respect that went with the order. This wafted and swirled amongst us in the common rooms and corridors until we left the Temple of Wisdom in 1967. Then came the endless scramble for jobs, positions and places. Among the doctors there were a few with corroding ideals with connections in high places. They benefitted in securing good jobs and better prospects with scant regard for merit, decency or friendship. We grew up in this milieu with a culture of deceit that reached every aspect of life. My ambitions being modest I’ve had no reason to be disappointed. But the deserving who were overlooked felt deserted. They had stories of hurt and these remained as raw as fresh wounds. Some of them no doubt left the country in disgust.

With the midlife crises come and gone, many of us are septuagenarians now and some even octogenarians. I hasten to add that thankfully age is not an order of exit from this wonderful world. But this is our age of wisdom accrued after years of toil and hardship being educated, learning a trade, providing a service to society and importantly bringing up our families.

On reflection those who occupied the prestigious positions in the order of merit have lived up to the expectations reaching those dizzy heights in academia and in various fields of healthcare. It is important to recognise that even those who did not show off their excellence in the faculty have done tremendously well in their careers. We left the faculty with the preconceived idea that medicine, surgery, obstetrics and gynaecology were the plum jobs and working in hospital medicine had more kudos than work in the community. We soon realised this certainly was not the situation in the real world.

There was no real career guidance and many of us fell into jobs depending on where we were sent by the government or what was more easily available. Sometimes it was our bosses that showed us the way forward. Those further up in the order of merit quite rightly had their choice and greater opportunities in jobs and better career prospects in Sri Lanka. 

My memories of the health service in Sri Lanka is from 1967-74. Our entry into the Faculty of Medicine was the culmination of years of preparation and sacrifice. The university entrance examination was tough beyond compare. Let’s face it, the faculty accepted only the best. There we received a fine education for 5 long years. At the end of that long struggle many of us realised there were difficult days and sleepless nights ahead.  But we all felt it was pertinent to pose the convulsive questions:  Can I have a decent life style now? Will the pay reflect the struggles so far and the responsibilities of the job? Can I have a career of my own choice? As qualified doctors many of us did have visions of grandeur. They were dashed when we became just a name and a statistic with the Department of Health. Often all hope was lost with the arrival of the letters of ‘transfer’. 

This difficult and unenviable task of allocating doctors to these remote and inaccessible places fell on the Department of Health. The department ruled with an iron fist and was deeply concerned with the provision of healthcare and the service commitment of doctors. The hospitals in these isolated areas in the wilderness needed medical officers. The social isolation in these inhospitable regions is complete. There was a need to learn on the job and get used to the lack of facilities and the amenities we were used to, growing up. We had the medical knowledge to save lives but had no clue how to manage a hospital with several members of staff. Politicians and local politics often became the bane of the DMO’s lives.  Managing the finances, dealing with difficult members of staff and their unions were new challenges to doctors. 

The movement of doctors in the Health Service was euphemistically called transfers. They were planned and executed by the department of health. I wonder how much of it was managed by the Director of Health Services. A visit to the mercurial atmosphere of the Ministry of Health is an unforgettable experience. I remember the rows of clerks glued to their chairs and busy at work. There was more than a hint of arrogance in the air as they clicked away on their typewriters. The Ministry was a magnet for doctors chasing favours, deals, promotions and scholarships. I am certain the allocation of ‘transfers’ were delegated further down the line. The process was greased by several factors beyond ‘seniority and order of merit’. The right political colour and connections to the ‘high and mighty’ did carry weight. A good word to some ‘powerful’ clerk who made up the final ‘transfer list’ may have gone a long way too. This bizarre experience in the corridors of power derailed me. Emerging from that shadowy world I realised how powerless and insignificant I was. The GMOA often tried hard to see that justice was done with some success. Interestingly the GMOA hierarchy too depended on the department for their jobs and promotions. 

It would be an interesting study to see how lives and careers panned out for these doctors who were sent as DMO’s. From personal communications and ‘hear say’ some remained as DMO’s all their lives, some moved laterally becoming MOH’s, some resigned and went into general practice, a few managed to get to a teaching hospital for postgraduate training, sadly a small minority became alcoholics and perished. Many were totally disgruntled and left the country. 

We owe it to the people of Sri Lanka for the free education we have received at great cost to the public purse. It gives me much satisfaction that I worked for 7 years in the Health Service in Sri Lanka. They still remain as some of the most rewarding years of my career.  As for the doctors who are sent to the periphery of life, they should have a clearer path to return to civilisation and further training, if they so wish. The order of merit like seniority will remain a halo for life. Serving in the periphery must accrue points too as should the provision of an exemplary service. As we look around in our own batch there are many who developed late and have achieved excellence in a multitude of fields. They seem to be all living and working abroad. 

The 1960’s and 70’s were the decades when doctors emigrated en-masse for a multitude of reasons. Political uncertainty and the economic downturn didn’t help to prevent a brain drain. Many took the advice of Horace Greely “Go West young man” being attracted by the bright city lights and lucrative pay. There was a long wait to be sent for postgraduate training by our government. Everyone I know who lives in exile is eminently aware of the effect it had on our parents and the massive loss to the country and its health service. Leaving my family, country and the life that I knew haunts me still. Serving the sick and the suffering to the best of our ability wherever we live is indeed a comforting thought. Some of these doctors who had post graduate training abroad wished to return home.  They should have had a clearer path to join the health service again removing the many obstacles that were placed by the Doctors Unions and the Department which made this an impossible dream. 

For those who left the sun-baked shores of home, sky was the limit. Wherever we live be it gender, colour, race or social standing, there will be some form of unfairness, injustice or bigotry. To keep our sanity we learnt to navigate our feelings. Many of us did encounter discrimination but managed to find a way into the fields of our choice more by design than destiny. We had also the opportunity to work where we wished within reason. Personally, I found the pay in the National Health Service was adequate to live a decent life. There was no need for backhanders. The private practice was built into the contract and we were able to charge a fee for our services outside of the NHS work. I personally do not see the immorality of private practice done with fairness, humanity and honesty. 

I wonder how the Department of Health has evolved over the past 50 years. The institution had a difficult remit. It is easier to criticize than to understand the problems and find equitable solutions. I confess, despite its shortcomings I still have an affection for the department. To keep the doctors happy and provide healthcare in those distant days was not an easy task. Now there are many more medical schools and more doctors. The population has increased and the wilderness has shrunk. Transport and communications are better. Perhaps the DMO’s now feel less isolated. They may also have a good social life, improved facilities and better access to amenities. I hope the selection process for scholarships, lucrative posts and dream jobs is more transparent and better regulated. The long-held tradition of seniority, merit and qualifications must still hold sway but I cannot believe that political interference has gone away. 

These are memories of a time now long gone. As is said even God can’t change the past. Life was not a bed of roses neither was it a bed of nails. We must look back with gratitude we had the courage to change the thing we could, accept the thing we couldn’t change and had the wisdom to know the difference, well most of the time.

A POEM BY U.N. NOHN BATCHMATE

THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT-  By A. Nonis Muss

An ethereal being,

The fairest of them all,at medical school,

A glittering star,

Beyond the pale

Of us mere mortals.

 

Now she is sitting beside me,

In a dreary classroom

In a dreary city,

On a dreary winter’s day.

 

A warm tenderness suffuses me,

A soft caress,

A shy smile,

A sweet whisper,

All fleeting,

But to me,timeless

Is it a dream ,a fantasy?

 

That night at the party,

She is a moonbeam,

Amid the forest of florid females,

Overcome I  mumble you are beyond compare,

A gentle smile of assent.

 

Let’s go to your room she says,

We sit in silence ,holding hands,

Outside,in the stillness of the night,

Snowflakes litter the sky

Suddenly,

Her face flushed,bosom heaving,

She pulls out a picture,

My son,I miss him so much

A mother’s counsel

Rings in my ears,

You must be pure always,

Like a Buddha to be.

 

We walk slowly to her room ,

The forbidden fruit ,

Unsullied.

 Life’s a beautiful stairway-

Zita Perera Subasinghe

Life’s a long and beautiful stairway

Each step spells a day in your life

Sometimes it is a cheerful day

Sometimes there is trouble ‘n strife

 

With each step you make progress

To reach your longed for aims and goals

Harder it gets, worse the stress

Quicker the journey’s end unfolds

 

            Passing bridge, a green and lake

        Drenched by rain and hearing screams      

    Climb the steps you hope will take

Finally, to your land of dreams

 

Fear not there is still some hope

The climb will not be all that steep

The harder be that dreaded slope

The sweeter be the final sleep!

Kamini Ferdinando (nee Goonewardene)

It is with profound sadness that we bring you news of the passing away peacefully at home of our dear batch mate Kamini Ferdinando (nee Goonewardene). She passed away on the 31st of January. She emigrated to New Zealand and worked in Community Medicine at Palmerston, NZ. and later went to Australia and lived in Melbourne.

We have no further details at the moment but will keep you updated

 

Lucky and Speedy

Prof Sanath Lamabadusuriya Interview

 UNLIMITED SAJEEWITHA – Interview

PROF. SANATH LAMABADUSURIYA | 2021.01.29

Another accolade for our "Lama"!

Please click on the link "Lamabadusuriya interview" in blue

Lamabadusuriya Interview

Destiny of a Village Vedarala's Nephew

 DESTINY OF A VILLAGE VEDARALA’S NEPHEW.

By Appu Sumathipala 

At the end of five arduous years in the Colombo Medical Faculty, my Final year exam results were mediocre and were not to my expectations. ”Gods” were not on my side, perhaps, as I did not perform vows nor feared” GOD”! 

I opted for Ratnapura as my first choice for internship, although I could have stayed in Colombo. The beginning of my happy days dawned. After finishing the Intern period at Ratnapura, I was posted as MO OPD Anuradhapura. As time passed, the thought of doing higher exams appeared in my mind. I went to see Prof Raj, then DHS with the hope of getting a transfer to a station closer to Colombo. He was a bit sarcastic and promised nothing in the end. 

At the end of two and a half years and the arrival of coming-vacancies lists, I applied for one in Matara as it gave the appearance of being a MO post. The post given to me, however, turned out to be MO PU, Kaburupitiya. I was really upset and wanted to hit back hard at the Head Office and I wrote a letter of protest addressed to Prof Raj stating that I was a grade two Medical Officer and I should not be posted as MO PU. 

In the end, what I got was the post of DMO at Deniyaya. When I reported for duty, I found out that I was to replace Dr Dharmasekera (Ex-Anatomy demo). 

Life as a DMO was not rosy and was full of thorns such as the JVP Insurrection, a drunkard Apothecary-who consumed methylated spirit (stolen from the drug stores) like nectar. In addition, there were false petitions alleging that I accepted money and that I was a JVP supporter. The rumours had already spread like wildfire as far as Colombo. I heard about it when I attended High Courts in Kurunegala as a witness to a murder case, where I met Dr WDL Fernando. He offered me a lift back to Colombo in his Benz and related the story he heard, which I strongly denied. 

As things were getting worse following the aftermath of the Insurrection, I decided to drop in at the Head Office and interview the Permanent Secretary .He was an ex-GP and a friend of Mr Felix Dias Bandaranaike. He was kind-hearted and listened to my story. I was offered a transfer out of Deniyaya and the only two places vacant were Rakwana and Deraniyagala. I opted for Rakwana as it was the next DMO station to Deniyaya. I was sent to report on the situation in Deniyaya to Mr Dissanayake (Sriani’s Dad), who was the coordinating Officer. He was a kind-hearted Officer, who refused to take part in the failed Coup, where his own brother CC Dissanayake was involved. 

When I had finished about two years in Rakwana, a message arrived at the SHS Office Ratnapura requesting me to be released for MOH Training. I never asked for it, but knew that it was my imminent destiny. The SHS, initially, did not want to release me but within days another telegram arrived insisting on my release with immediate effect. When I reported for training at Nagoda, I was about a couple of days behind and had to do some catch-up work. At the end of the training, I was posted to Hambantota. 

A good friend of mine, two years senior, heard about my transfer and tried his best to get me in his place at Ambalangoda. He was finishing his term of office and planned to meet the local MP, Mr LC de Silva. He promised to do his best but failed as Ambalangoda was reserved for a Minister’s favourite. The Minister of Health was Mrs Siva Obeysekera. Hambantota at that time was a small town administered by a Town Council and there were no houses for rent. 

With the greatest difficulty, a house was found 28 miles away in Tangalle. I had to commute 6 days of the week by public transport and the work was tedious as paying and supervising anti-Malaria workers were a part of my duties. Handling of money is a risky job and one day I failed to lock the safe and my clerk had entered the office room and had stolen around Rs 500.00. I had to replace the money immediately as there was a risk of me being accused as the person responsible during a surprise audit check. That clerk was an alcohol addict and had French leave on several occasions, as a result of his drunkard state. 

At the end of two and a half years, the Anti-VD Campaign Superintendent paid a visit and asked me whether I was willing to start a part-time clinic in Hambantota. I was pleased to accept the offer and had a few days of training in Colombo. That opened the door for me to join the Campaign and come to Colombo. 

After a couple of months work in the clinic, I sensed that some of the doctors were not happy with my devotion to patients in need. I presumed that they were tired of the monotony of work and the fact that none of them had the MRCP. With DPH and MPH, they were only considered as Part-Specialists. Dr Ratnatunge had his MRCP and he was the only one in the Speciality to hold that Diploma. It was a dead-end and I was getting frustrated and decided to resign and migrate to the UK. Going anywhere else was hindered by the lack of ECFMG. 

Getting my resignation was a nightmare as a quota system was in force at the time. The minimum requirement was five years’ service. I had almost 10 yrs service and the letter of release was issued sometime in January 1977. At that time I was a Part-time GP for Dr Ranjith Attapattu at Tangalle. He was busy with politics and wanted a helping hand to one partner already in place. My clinical attachment was to begin in April 1977. 

I landed in London on 1^st April 1977 and to my surprise, the friend who was supposed to meet me was missing. I started to panic and had no coins to dial him. A fellow traveller came to my rescue and used his own coins to contact my friend. But as his telephone was out of order I tried the other friend. I was lucky as he answered my call but his car was in the garage. He promised to see me as soon as the car was ready. I had only £5.00 in hand and there was no way of getting to Sheffield for my attachment. As promised, my friend turned up a couple of hours later and took me home. The next day, my first friend was available on the phone and I travelled by train and met him at his quarters. He was a batchmate and was helpful in lending me pocket money to survive until I received the allowance from the hospital, during the period of attachment. 

Finding a hospital job was not easy without experience in the UK and this applied to a lot of foreign doctors unless they have come on Fellowships. 

I had experience in VD and this made it easier to get jobs. But that did not help in the pursuit of General Medical jobs. I also obtained training in Dermatology and Family Planning, which helped me to earn a decent living. 

Working as a locum GP helped me to gain the necessary requirements to be registered as a GP (Primary Care Physician). 

I thoroughly enjoyed the work which involved providing Dermatology Services to a local GP during the Fund holding era. As a part of a GP’s work, I was entrusted with minor surgical procedures, such as excision of “lumps and bumps” and administering intra-articular injections. 

After retirement, I enjoy gardening, doing long walks and reading books. During winter my gardening and the usual walks became restricted. 

I do hope that this saga is not going to be boring for our readers