Awareness

When I reached the gynaecologist's clinic today, two women in their mid-thirties were waiting for their turn. Clad in sarees, adorned with jewellery, chatting away normally and talking on their cell phones, they looked like any other two women waiting to see a doctor.

When their turn came, I could clearly hear their conversation with the doctor from outside. One of the ladies was the patient, while the other had accompanied her for support.

She had brought along a report that mentioned a uterine fibroid. The doctor patiently began explaining, in the simplest possible language, what a fibroid is, why it needed to be removed, and what the treatment involved. The women, however, had absolutely no understanding of the condition. Terms like laparoscopy, anaesthesia, and even the purpose of the surgery seemed completely unfamiliar to them.

What touched me most was the doctor's patience. She explained every single step, from anaesthesia to the procedure itself, in a language they could relate to. Not once, but several times.

The patient had also been unable to conceive. Someone had advised her to go for a "test-tube baby", a term she couldn't even pronounce properly. She repeatedly requested the doctor, "Do everything in one procedure... sab ek saath kar dijiye." It seemed she had financial and time constraints too.

The doctor gently explained that medicine doesn't work that way. Every step has a purpose, and every treatment has to be done in the right sequence. Multiple factors have to be taken into consideration.

Instead of dismissing their concerns, the doctor patiently explained the medical reasons, discussed the costs involved, and even assured them that she would help them get the surgery done at the most reasonable expense possible.

Nearly half an hour later, the two women left. I remained seated, thinking about everything I had just witnessed.

We proudly speak about "Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao." But what about educating women about their own health?

What about creating awareness of common medical conditions, reproductive health, preventive care, and when to seek medical help?

These women were not totally illiterate. They were simply uninformed. They did not know the nature of their own illness, nor did they have anyone who could explain it to them. In that moment, they were entirely dependent on the healthcare provider, not just for treatment, but for understanding.

Everything operates on trust. Sometimes they receive genuine care, and sometimes they are taken advantage of.

I have heard similar stories from our household help. They often narrate how local practitioners administer expensive injections for almost every illness. Whether those treatments are truly necessary, they have no way of knowing.

Several NGOs continue to work tirelessly in this field, yet a significant section of society still remains untouched.

It is both heartbreaking and concerning that, in an age of smartphones, the internet, and an explosion of information, so many women are still struggling for access to the most basic health awareness.

Perhaps we cannot change the entire system.But we can certainly change our immediate surroundings.The women or young girls who work in our homes, our offices, our neighbourhoods, and our communities often need not just financial support, but someone they can comfortably approach with questions they are too embarrassed or too afraid to ask.

Sometimes all they need is someone to explain, guide, or simply point them towards the right doctor or the right medical facility, government or private.

Awareness begins with conversation.

And conversations begin with kindness.

A little patience, a little empathy, and a willingness to share the right information can save someone from unnecessary fear, exploitation, financial burden, and delayed treatment.

Sometimes, kindness is not just about helping someone.

It is about creating awareness and assisting in informed decision-making.