Trisha-a 17 year old, thin, high school kid- a girl, alright- walked in alone to consult me for her neck and scapular pain. When I asked her to be seated on the examination table, she let her very classically designed ethnic purse slide off her shoulder to the floor.
She said her pain started when her two and a half year old kid brother jumped on her neck from behind her when she was reading prone in her bed, while her mom was busy talking on the cell phone- as she usually is- she added.
Her clinical examination indicated, fortunately, that she had not suffered any irreversible damage- the pain was likely to subside in a few days, a week or two at the most. But then clinical examination is notorious in that it sometimes reveals things one is not really looking for, as it did in Trisha's case. Her left forearm showed circular and parallel scars- a classic give away. When I pointed to these and raised an eyebrow, she just uttered two words, "family problems", and then her voice choked. Thereafter she kept quiet for a while- perhaps she did not want to spill any more family secrets.
Feeling that there was some possibility to help, I asked her if she wanted to disclose anything- reassuring her that she would not come to harm in any manner at all if she shared her problems with me, and that there was even a chance that she could perhaps be helped if only to some extent.
She hesitated for a while. Then, in a barely audible and low voice, said,
"Uncle, I want to pursue design and I feel that I can top there- but my parents have forced me to take up science and I am not scoring well at all and I feel depressed, because my 'arts' will always be gone hereafter".
I remembered that my friend's daughter had, in the previous term, secured admission to the nation's top design school after having pursued science subjects when she was at Trisha's stage. When I told her this, she lighted up and smiled, the first time after she came into the consulting room. She could see that there was a chance for her, after all.
As I was finishing the prescription formalities, I felt that this kid needed something to hold on to.
"Trisha," I told her, "you must inform me whenever you launch your first designed product."
"Yes! I will", she said, and walked out- smiling and with a spring in her gait.
My day was made!
She said her pain started when her two and a half year old kid brother jumped on her neck from behind her when she was reading prone in her bed, while her mom was busy talking on the cell phone- as she usually is- she added.
Her clinical examination indicated, fortunately, that she had not suffered any irreversible damage- the pain was likely to subside in a few days, a week or two at the most. But then clinical examination is notorious in that it sometimes reveals things one is not really looking for, as it did in Trisha's case. Her left forearm showed circular and parallel scars- a classic give away. When I pointed to these and raised an eyebrow, she just uttered two words, "family problems", and then her voice choked. Thereafter she kept quiet for a while- perhaps she did not want to spill any more family secrets.
Feeling that there was some possibility to help, I asked her if she wanted to disclose anything- reassuring her that she would not come to harm in any manner at all if she shared her problems with me, and that there was even a chance that she could perhaps be helped if only to some extent.
She hesitated for a while. Then, in a barely audible and low voice, said,
"Uncle, I want to pursue design and I feel that I can top there- but my parents have forced me to take up science and I am not scoring well at all and I feel depressed, because my 'arts' will always be gone hereafter".
I remembered that my friend's daughter had, in the previous term, secured admission to the nation's top design school after having pursued science subjects when she was at Trisha's stage. When I told her this, she lighted up and smiled, the first time after she came into the consulting room. She could see that there was a chance for her, after all.
As I was finishing the prescription formalities, I felt that this kid needed something to hold on to.
"Trisha," I told her, "you must inform me whenever you launch your first designed product."
"Yes! I will", she said, and walked out- smiling and with a spring in her gait.
My day was made!
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