No Tobacco Day – A day in my life

The occasion of World No Tobacco Day (2022) reminded me of an experience many years back, but still fresh in my memory and right in front of my eyes. That of an open Heart Surgery.

I had recently shifted to Mumbai from Pune. My immediate cousin had just become a Doctor via MBBS. His immediate uncle was a famous Cardiac surgeon in Mumbai and the country. And uncle's wife was a famed Anesthetist. As a result, her schedule was packed as she mostly assisted in heart surgeries that stretch to a few hours.
Thanks to uncle and aunt, my cousin enjoyed the rare privilege of attending and observing major heart surgeries immediately after passing MBBS.

I often used to pester my cousin to take me along for a surgery as I was super interested in a seeing a live body being cut and see a major surgery such as an open heart surgery.
After constant pestering, he finally obliged and mustered the courage to request his aunt about allowing me with them for just one surgery. One fine day lady luck smiled on me and I was allowed to attend an open heart surgery that Aunt was assisting, and a friendly heart surgeon was performing. The venue was a hospital outside Mumbai, far far away, at Vashi! Back then Vashi was literally an unheard place with vast tracts of undeveloped, open land.

On the stipulated day, I somehow landed at Vashi and reached the hospital. It was mid-afternoon, 4 pm, if I remember right. When I reached, I noticed that all the preparations for an operation were already done. The hospital was not too big, 2-3 floors and the operation theatre was on the ground floor.

After the mandatory fumigation and donning of the mandatory white suit, I was escorted to the OT and asked to sit on a stool on the left side of the bed, a bit behind but right next to Aunt.

A few moments and Aunt administered the Anesthesia after consultation with the main surgeon. Within seconds the patient was oblivious of all the cuts his body was to undergo in the next 2 hours.

Next, the surgeon got to work. There was pin drop silence, except the constant clatter of steel instruments being feverishly passed on the surgeon's command. The surgeon made a deep, long cut on the patient's chest as I took a deep, long breath at the marvel I was about to witness.

 I was told to shut my mouth and sit tight. So I didn’t utter a word and didn’t even move an inch in my seat. All I did was look in awe and amazement at the cut-open insides of a man’s chest with wide open eyes and probably equally wide-open mouth. The efficiency of the surgeon’s staff was amazing. With just a nod or a single word the right equipment used to land on the surgeon’s extended hand. The surgeon too had deft hands and a sharp mind as he carefully but swiftly got to the heart of the problem, literally.

Not an actual image.

After half an hour, suddenly everyone got into a frenzy. There was hectic activity. Lucky for me, my cousin must’ve seen the sorry, completely lost expressions all over my face because he came to me and explained the situation. Some complication had occurred and the heart pumping was not normal, hence a machine was now operating the man’s heartbeats and making sure that he doesn’t miss a single beat.

Soon the commotion stopped, but the air was still heavy with tension. Anything could happen when the body is not control of its functions. The surgeon was cool as a cucumber. He went about probing tissues, cutting and mending the problem.

Then came the moment. I suddenly saw some black mass where the surgeon was operating. I softly asked my Aunt as to what that black part near the heart was. The surgeon heard my question and jovially replied, “What you see here is a smoker’s lung, young man.” Saying this, moved the thong in his hands to make it more clear to a dud like me, “This man is a cigarette smoker, probably a chain smoker.” I was shocked, and somehow managed to acknowledge his favour of bothering to explain.

I kept looking at the black mass which was like a charred, dead piece of flesh. Imagine a chicken piece which is fried and gets a black, charred appearance. Or the black, charred, crumpled remains of a of a burnt piece of paper. Such was the ghastly appearance that if I was in the patient’s place and had seen the black condition of my lungs, then I would’ve torn them apart and separated them from my bod.

L - Healthy lungs                                                         R- Smoker's lungs

The image of the black, burnt lungs was something that has stayed with me forever. Probably, those scorched lungs were the reason that I never picked up smoking even after spending two decades in a highly infectious place like advertising.

So even if black is your favourite color, or black beauty is what you fantasize, I’m sure black lungs are not something anyone would prefer in their body.

Say NO to Tobacco today and forever!