Memories from the Emergency Unit

Yesterday, I fell asleep in the evening, which is a rare situation for me. I know I have been experiencing sleep deprivation, so that was a good thing. I had my late dinner, took my regular antihypertensive medication, and tried to get back to sleep. Around 9 PM, someone asked me to check his finished work. I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I got up, checked it, and communicated with him. I also did a few other things and then found it hard to go back to sleep.

These days, I am reflecting on the time I was assigned to the emergency unit during my house surgeon period. It was a dark era for women's rights, and we were not yet aware of the concept of gender equality. If something happened, it was almost impossible to obtain justice; prevention seemed to be our only solution.

Most of the men around us were, I think, good people. However, there were two individuals—a surgeon and an assistant surgeon—who were notorious for taking advantage of co-workers and even patients. From this perspective, you might wonder why we didn’t speak up or stand up for ourselves. We thought it would do more harm than good, as there was no support system or people around us.

We were assigned alongside senior house surgeons from the previous year, and there was someone who acted like a big brother to us. I heard he passed away in the UK many years ago. There was also a famous vocalist among our group, but he was rarely there, and I only met him once. 

During the night we were assigned to the emergency unit, they planned to drink and play guitar. I was happy and curious when I saw the guitars. I usually feel scared around people who drink, but not with them. I felt like a child, sitting beside them eagerly waiting to listen to their songs. However, the famous vocalist didn’t sing his own songs; he played and sang old songs, while one of the guards at the emergency sang his songs as he played the guitar. It was a memorable night for me at the emergency unit—a cherished memory.

Another memorable night was when I was assigned with that notorious assistant surgeon. We were organized by our roll numbers, which placed me among the mostly male students due to my name. On that emergency assignment day, I was with my male classmates whom I trusted. I wanted to learn, so I planned to stay the whole night, hoping others would be there as well. Only one of my classmates showed up but he said he wouldn’t stay. I was scared to spend the night alone and didn’t feel safe.

I had already told the assistant surgeons that I would stay until the morning, and I didn’t know what to do. He carried a large backpack, and I asked him to put my backpack inside his. He agreed, so I walked with him outside. Then, I took my backpack from him, and went home. I am still grateful for his help. The emergency unit was very deserted if no patients arrived, and other co-workers weren’t always there, which made me afraid.

During that assignment period, one of our senior house surgeons shared that when she was assigned with that assistant surgeon, he was drunk and tried to get into her bed. This happened in the hospital ward with patients nearby, and he still dared to do it. She was actually married to one of the classmates of that assistant surgeon. I’m not sure if she reported the situation to the authorities, but she did tell all of us, and I believe her husband came to the ward to resolve the issue. 

Yes, we were not safe at our workplace. Those are bad memories.

Just a record of the dark era of our learning days.

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