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10th August 1997

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The Healing Cut

A Caesarean rapture

by Roshan Peiris

The would be mother sat on the operating table her face composed as she was made to hug a pillow while a spinal injection was given to her. Next she was made to lie down and her abdomen swabbed with an iodine disinfectant.

She was awake but could feel no pain. The Chief gynaecologist Dr. Kingsley de Silva made sure by pricking her hard with a pair of forceps.

This was a ''prima breech'' case where the baby's legs were down and head up. If she had been taken to an able gynaecologist the baby in the early stages would have been turned round.

Dr. Kingsley de Silva said that soon everybody will like to have a Caesarean section. It is easy and everything is over in twenty minutes. Statistics have proved also that Caesar babies are more intelligent, since when labour sometimes takes as long as eight to nine hours, the effect often traumatic on the brain, can sometimes be considerable.

A urinal catheter was gently inserted to protect the urinal bladder. All was silent and both surgeons Dr. de Silva and Dr. K Karu-naratne stood still with their hands clasped together. I wondered whether they were praying as I prayed for the life of the mother and the baby yet to be born.

A horizontal incision was cleanly made with a scalpel and before that the legs were held firmly together with a belt to prevent any movement while the incision was made. Around fifteen artery forceps were used to stop bleeding. And now the womb, slightly purple and round, was exposed. There was absolute silence again as the surgeon cut the womb and the water bag was made to burst open with forceps.

Gently the surgeon clasped the legs and pulled the baby out. It did not cry and my heart missed a beat. "Cry man, cry" said the surgeon and the new born baby as if in response gave a feeble cry to everyone's relief and delight. This was followed by a louder cry. The baby was blue and was taken away to be cleaned and weighed. Just after birth a nasal catheter was inserted in the baby's nose to clean the mucous.

It was a little boy, quite fair as he was seen after being spruced up and brought to the mother. The cloth over her eye was removed so that she could behold her first born baby.

The after birth placenta was removed. "It weighs" said the doctor "one sixth of the baby's weight which was six pounds."

Catgut sutures were quickly put in place to close the womb and outer skin. And so a new baby was born, with hardly a complication or too much loss of blood, to take its place in society. It is certainly a moving experience.

The mother was made to sit that evening and in two days would be allowed to go home.

We hope this convinces those afraid of a Caesarean section that it is a simple operation today in the hands of an able gynaecologist. The operation was done at Sri Jayewardenepura hospital.


The Blue baby

[Image]In the first article in our series we wrote about an eleven-month-old blue baby who underwent the delicate operation to relieve his condition.

Here he is carried by his happy mother about to leave the hospital just one week after the operation.

He will be brought back yet again on the surgeon's instructions in one-and-a-half-year's time to make a few adjustments with another operation.

'The Sunday Times' wishes the baby well. The operation was done at the Sri Jayewardenepura hospital.


Mumbai Diary

Goodbye Bombay

by Kumudini Hettiarachchi

As I sit by my window in our flat in Bandra it is just before sunset. It's time for reflection, nostalgia and goodbye...

Our apartment block is located at the foot of Pali Hill. Though it is in the heart of the bustling Bombay suburb of Bandra, it's more like a small village or township.

Just down the road, about 50 yards away is the 'buniya' (grocery) store, selling a range of items from rice, grain and potato to exercise books and bathroom brushes. It's run by a Jain family - two brothers, their mother, their wives, their sisters, their children, who all live behind the shop.

I remember, as a raw foreigner, I made a near-fatal blunder of inquiring from them where I could buy chicken. That day, two years ago, the shop was being manned by one brother and his wife. The look of horror on the poor woman's face, instantly alerted me to the fact that I had said something amiss...

I immediately explained that I was new to the area and also a foreigner. The man quickly said: "Try down the road", and added, "We are Jains. We don't even talk about such things." Amidst my apologies, I heard the women mumbling something. I think it was a prayer. It was much later that I learnt that they (the Jain community - one of thousands of communities/castes spread across India) don't even eat anything which grows underground such as potatoes, yams or onions for fear that the process of uprooting them would cause the death of insects...

Then there is the New Chinese Irani Restaurant specialising in Chinese and Indian cuisine. It is a restaurant cum shop selling food as well as other stuff such as toothpaste, soft drinks, eggs, etc. It's owned by the Irani family - four tall well-built brothers. Their grandparents had migrated from Iran and settled down in Bombay. The four brothers had perfected the art of salesmanship and even though you want to buy only one item, you come away with about 10.

In the vicinity are a tailor, an electrician, a greeting cards shop, a xerox and fax booth and a shop selling chicken and eggs. A ration shop (where Indians can purchase grain, sugar and kerosene at a lower price than the market rate) and a stall which buys old newspapers, magazines and empty bottles are close by....

On the other side is the church and a school. Next to the church in a beautiful, old green, Portuguese style bungalow lives the doctor - pretty, generous and understanding. Dr. Margaret Miranda is a blessing to the neighbourhood..

She charges a small fee from those who can afford to pay but treats many a patient free of charge..

As I look out of the window, the weary sun seems to be having a last ditch battle with the black rain clouds, racing towards it. The compound next to our apartment block is empty. There is one large well full to the brim and about 25 dhobis come here daily to wash clothes. Sun or rain, they arrive in the chilly morn and go on with their back-breaking task till dusk. Then they jump into the well, have a bath and leave for their humble abodes till the next day. Once a year they have a huge party and end up brawling with each other and sending "rotis" flying...

From our fourth floor flat, I can see many 'Flame of the Forest' trees with more flowers than leaves and children playing hop-scotch under their spreading canopy. The pigeons and crows have gone to roost. But a pair of beautiful hawks arrogantly sail the wind, their wings motionless. Suddenly one shoots downwards like an arrow and the only thing left of a small, hapless pigeon is its feathers...

As night descends, "Zhen Don", the ship which ran aground near our flat last year during the storms which lashed Bombay, takes on the appearance of a ghostly galleon. Many were the times I wove stories of adventure about that ship while coaxing my four-year-old daughter to eat her food...

In the distance, the sky is lit up by lightning followed by the crackle of thunder...

The rain comes down and darkness falls like a mantle obscuring everything - except a light here and there.

I shut the window. Tomorrow the packers will be here and the Bombay chapter of our lives will close. The lessons learnt, the experiences undergone will be etched in our memories forever...

Bombay has taught us many things - to be thankful for the beautiful country we call home...

The poverty we witnessed in Bombay also helped us to re-evaluate our lives and get our priorities right..

Yes, Bombay will be very special, not only because of all this but also because our son was born here...

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