The way the history and the patient are looked upon can change the entire course of therapy and the thereby, the life of the patient.
History = Clinical diagnosis
In some instances I did feel that that there were heavy lapses in the research areas and a great lot is yet to be unveiled. What I despised the most while attending the Psychiatry clinics was that, most of the final diagnoses were based on the history and the doctor’s interpretation as specific clinical investigations do not yet, exist; making it biased.
For once, give it a thought. If you happen to impress a Psychiatrist well enough, whatever you see could be termed as visual hallucinations and whatever you hear are auditory hallucinations! Even a child not wanting to go to school and play is pre-morbidity! Gross and eventful!
But there are doctors efficient enough to see those thin lines and brainy enough to analyze the understanding of those firing neurons. Still, I await that day when I shall be relieved of the slightest doubt that a person can never be wrongly placed in a mental asylum. After all, everything is a mind’s perspective. Even happiness fits perfectly to be called a mental ailment!
Showing posts with label Mental journey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mental journey. Show all posts
Friday, December 10, 2010
Monday, August 31, 2009
My Mental Journey [Day- 1]
A joke broke out into the thick humid air that was so heavily lightened that the fog in it was merely visible for the naked eye very close to it.
There was laughter. Then, there was more, all at once, with mouths wide open, each displaying the age-old primitive tools struck up their red bumpy fleshy fields.
The seemingly thinner taller man at the right corner of the Carom table slipped out his upper lateral incisor tinged with yellow like Gold. Next to him sat a plump seemingly shorter man who seemed curious about the carats but continued to laugh along to please the tall, visibly making efforts to pull down his lips to curtain his Tobacco- stained doorway.
Opposite to them sat their company who chuckled for what so reason unknown to them selves. The doctor stood by the doorway, silently watching them and from the angle of his mouth crawled out a smile that on trying to reenter through the cheeks produced a dimple.
They all looked to be enjoying their each own lil’ game.
Above them, overhanging the primeval wall, the once polished shiny chunk of wood now rendered a granular texture with fresh layers of dust stood as a blind witness unbiased and unread.
‘THE PSYCIATRIC WARD’, it read.
There was laughter. Then, there was more, all at once, with mouths wide open, each displaying the age-old primitive tools struck up their red bumpy fleshy fields.
The seemingly thinner taller man at the right corner of the Carom table slipped out his upper lateral incisor tinged with yellow like Gold. Next to him sat a plump seemingly shorter man who seemed curious about the carats but continued to laugh along to please the tall, visibly making efforts to pull down his lips to curtain his Tobacco- stained doorway.
Opposite to them sat their company who chuckled for what so reason unknown to them selves. The doctor stood by the doorway, silently watching them and from the angle of his mouth crawled out a smile that on trying to reenter through the cheeks produced a dimple.
They all looked to be enjoying their each own lil’ game.
Above them, overhanging the primeval wall, the once polished shiny chunk of wood now rendered a granular texture with fresh layers of dust stood as a blind witness unbiased and unread.
‘THE PSYCIATRIC WARD’, it read.
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