That dreadful day!

He became emotional on seeing his hospital reduced to a rubble, but within minutes, gathered courage to become a saviour to the thousands injured and traumatised at Bhuj. Dr.Gyaneshwar Rao gives a first person account.

I HAVE lived in Bhuj since 1987. It is a city with simple people and is so small that everyone knows the other. On January 26, I was playing badminton when the earthquake shook us. Obviously nobody had an inkling nor was there any warning from the Government or other organisations. I have a bungalow and a hospital in Bhuj. No one can accurately describe what we experienced that fateful morning. For quite sometime the earth shook incessantly.

Buildings came crashing down and a monstrous cloud of dust covered the city. When I came out, Bhuj was dead. Those were the worst 15 minutes of my life. I drove home to see my family. My wife, daughter and father were searching for me and we got emotional when we saw each other.

Next, I thought of my patients and rushed to the hospital. On the way, I gave someone a lift. When I reached the hospital, I saw that my staff had led the patients safely out on to the road.

When I arrived, one of my staffers said, "Sir, forget it (my hospital). It's gone." This was unbearable! Someone shook me and asked, "Doctor, tamhe dhila thasho to kem chalshe? (How can you lose heart?)" When my thoughts went to the General Hospital, someone said, "Even that has collapsed." I was shell-shocked. I looked around for my stethoscope.

People started arriving outside where my hospital once stood. In 10 minutes, there were 100 patients. This was around 9.30 a.m. All of them had multiple injuries. If someone's intestine had burst, some had broken hands, and others came with broken legs. All of them needed surgery at the earliest.

I instantly took one correct decision. I asked the injured to follow me to the Jubilee Ground. All hell then broke loose. I am still amazed that in 10 minutes, so many injured people got to know that medical help was available at the Jubilee Ground. Within a few hours, many doctors of Bhuj joined me.

I did not have any injections, needles or even thread. As the serious cases of injury increased by the second, I screamed for help. I asked one young man to break into a chemist's shop and get syringes, glucose bottles, needles and thread and medicines.

I told him not to worry, and that I would take the blame. The little kit that we managed to get hardly lasted for a few minutes. When I shouted again, people got the courage.

I got what I wanted but I realised that what I was doing was not enough.

In an hour, several serious patients from Anjar arrived. Other doctors joined me by then. I wanted to operate. So I asked my colleague to rush to my hospital and fetch the operation kit. I asked a patient's relative to get me some red tiles, sheets of wood and cardboard to encase patients' limbs in plaster. I used shawls, shirts and sarees as bandages.

Suddenly, a man rushed with a girl in his arms. "Doctor," he said, "please treat her first." I thought the girl was dead. The father wanted my confirmation. "Be quick doctor, if she is dead, then let me go and look for my wife in the debris of my home." He was in deep shock. I told him, "Just keep her in our care and run for your wife." He left, leaving his daughter's dead body in our custody.

The most traumatic thing that day was when I had to ask relatives to take the quickest possible decision - to allow me to save a life by cutting off an injured limb. For the first few hours I had only one needle, the valuable needle which had to be carefully guarded!

My colleagues arranged patients in such a manner that I could stitch three patients at one go. Hundreds of patients were lying on the ground.

Around us, the noise level was so high wh with people screaming in pain, relatives crying in anguish. I must have sutured about 150 patients that day. By 11 a.m., the home guards arrived, then came the Member of Parliament Pushpdan Gadhvi. I finally got a table; I then asked for a tent. Once they were in place, I started operating. Again it was a hard time. With only one pair of scissors, I had to cut off a leg or an arm to save lives!

Several doctors pitched in. By 3 p.m. we had five tables and lots of medical help.

The man who owned a food stall on the footpath opposite, offered to help us. He provided us with a gas stove and a huge utensil to boil water. He also brought 'dabeli', a popular dish in Bhuj, for the patients and their relatives. Imagine, he had managed to prepare so much in a few hours. It was a miracle. While this kind of treatment was going on, heart-rending news about the death of known people started pouring in. Slowly, without our knowledge, things started falling into place. Dicloran and Tetanus Toxide injections started pouring in.

After 7 p.m., I was too tired. I wanted a mobile operation theatre and 100 operation kits. It was not made available even on Monday night.

I pleaded with the district health officer and the politicians. "Don't call doctors. Get the operation equipment first."

Two hundred doctors had arrived in Kutch by then, but we didn't know how to use them in the best way possible. A big medical team came from AIIMS, Delhi, but without equipment. Someone sent a helicopter full of Cloromycin, but it was not of much help. I needed 1,000 pairs of gloves. I knew that people who sent so much of items were not aware of the ground realities.

Till January 29, we didn't have a functioning orthopaedic section and an operation theatre. The military hospital was doing a wonderful job under Colonel Lahiri's leadership, but their resources were limited. All the private dispensaries were closed, the Government hospital had crumbled. So, where would the children and mothers go? We wanted a temporary hospital that would function for at least six months!

Courtesy:http://www.rediff.com/

news/2001/jan/30spec1.htm

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