He is sitting in a small clinic in a small village-town. A thirty five-ish lady comes in and sits down. She complains of back ache and headache, both symptoms chronic and very non specific. He bends down to write tab metacin, tab calcium and just as a formality reaches for her hand to check her pulse. He is intrigued, her forearms have the most curious round healing lesions. Perfect circles, with dark edges and pink healing tissue inside. Since doctors feel it’s their right to know everything they want to about a patient he asks her, she is reticent in answering, he pushes. He wishes he hadn’t. Her husband is an alcoholic, for the last one month he has been getting drunk daily and comes home late every night, wakes her up, sits on her stomach, holds down her hands and burns her with his beedi.

The bastard.

He is seething with anger, “why do you suffer silently?” He can’t understand. “Go to your mother’s home, or run to the neighbors when he comes, or hit him back, do something!!” His voice has risen, everyone around knows now that the usually sober and smiley doc is agitated. She has tried it all, her mom is dead, her neighbors are similarly suffering so are are in no position to help, he is too big to fight back, she has tried though, and was almost killed. She has even gone to the police once, but how much can they do. Other times he is a nice man apparently, he goes for mass regularly, takes part in the community activities, but when he is drunk he burns her.

What medicine is there for her aches and pains? What good is his clinic? Will he step out of his comfort zone and do something? What can be done?

Photo credit Kat