Why Giving Up Is Hard To Do For Me

When I was in my fourth year in Medical School, I decided to contest for the General Secretary’s post. Madras Medical College which had rich resources to support a College Union financially was looked upon by other Government funded Colleges in the State. I was in the additional batch, as I had lost a semester. My opponent had the backing of his parents and a political party. My dad tried to dissuade me from contesting as he wished that I focused on my studies. I stole eight of his dhotis (white sheets that men wrap around when they get back from work at home), bought coir as I needed to tie the dhotis and with the help of few friends wrapped it around tree trunks with my name and the post I ran for, which were stenciled. My opponent hung colorful fifty foot banners, stuck posters in every corner and distributed leaflets on a continuum basis. If I was not a contestant, I would have voted for him. I met many from all courses, would be Doctors, Pharmacists, Dentists, Nurses, Physical Therapists. I stood on the podium in each and every class and addressed every freshman to seniors which my friend and opponent didn’t do.The election day results was a disappointment to say the least. I had 797 votes and my opponent had 816 votes. It was heart breaking. A difference of ten votes favoring me would have seen me as a GS. I was lost. It took a month to recover. I gained a lot of friends and acquaintances. I felt that money had an important place in any election be it College or State or Central to get your name out. It was a no brainer.

I moved to New Zealand after 12 years in practice. I migrated with my family only to find out that our degrees were not recognized. Not just ours but the Asians, east Europeans, middle east and Africans. We were told to take an exam - the cost was high and those who cleared were within the 2% allowed by the NZMC. Knowing that I didn’t fit in the 2%, we skipped the offer. But then the money we had was gone. We enrolled in the Government hand out scheme which was enough to pay for the rent. The food stamps helped to buy groceries. The medical card took care of illnesses. But to take the US exams we( my wife and I) had to pay fees, to travel to Australia to do the exams (as NZ was not a center) we needed flight tickets and a place to stay, if you were lucky to pass the exams in one attempt.

Both of us were forced by the situation to accept menial jobs. I worked in a pizza hut delivering pizzas and as an attendant in a gas station. I applied for 200 hundred jobs which were denied because I was over qualified or didn’t fit the job description. My wife worked as a janitor and a nurse aid and during weekends stood in malls sampling food to the customers. The three years we spent were life changing but gave us the strength to beat any odds. Our kids went to elementary school and I dropped them in a run down 500 NZ dollar worth car. We trained in a State Psychiatric Hospital traveling 25 kms each way besides caring for our kids, doing our job and finding time to study for the US exams. My wife went to bed at 11pm and I woke her up at 3am. I slept from 3am till 7am. That was for a year and half. The only monetary help I got during our time in NZ was a check for 100+ 100 dollars sent by my brothers for my birthday. I didn’t ask for help and I didn’t talk about it to my family of the situation we were in.

IT took me more attempts to pass and with that came the stress to foot the bill. One time our ticketing agent, a Russian female agreed to wait till I got back, one time a friend paid for one step, one time we sold the bunk bed. But in the end, both of us had cleared and started to apply for residency programs.

I was angry at the NZ Government for washing its hands off saying that the NZ Medical Council was an autonomous body and they couldn’t help. We were members of an Overseas Doctors Association which had enlisted nearly 2000 members and was doing nothing other than pleading with the Government. I decided to take it in my own hands not fearing of the consequences as we had hoped to move to USA to do our residency. I knocked at the door of every editor of Newspapers in Auckland, NZ. After nearly 3 months, I got a break. A reporter was assigned by an editor of Manukau Times a local newspaper. WE took 3 weeks to format. On Wednesdays they brought out in depth articles in the center fold without any advertisements. I had a photo shoot. Once it came out, the other newspapers followed suit. The radio talk shows picked up. I was on a live debate with the Deputy Prime Minister of NZ who was being interviewed by a prominent radio station. The TV networks picked up the story. Of the 3 Channels, one decided to do a documentary on my family. When the cameras arrived in front of the Pizza Hut to record me taking pizzas to deliver, the Manager was stunned after coming to know that I was a doctor. The first reporter who worked with me on bringing out the article, full page, approached me and said that my wife and I should take the exam and he would help with the fees and he had an unwritten assurance from the medical council that we would pass and even get a job. Having secured a residency position for both of us, I didn’t fall a prey to the offer.

As our flight departed in search of our destiny towards the USA in 1997, The tables had turned. The 2% passing score was raised to 56%. I did not personally enjoy the benefits of the struggle, but felt that I had achieved something. This I had learned from my defeat during the union election. That one should raise their voice to be heard long and hard enough for others to take notice. It is not the money always but the conviction in one’s belief that will find the results one hopes for. A difference between success and failure is not necessarily in the hands of few but in the hands of every individual if he or she so desired.