Columbia University School of Public Health - Yearbook (New York, NY)

Page 27 text:

Fl - Are you better? Tears were running on my face, I tried to hide my eyes from him. He took my hand in his, saying gently: - Why these tears? - I did not see. - Why? - I was blind. - Why? - I did not see except myself. - Did not you achieve something? - No! No! I did not achieve anything, because medicine is not to diagnose and treat and take the price. Success is not to see my office full of patients and my pocket full of money, and my name widespread like stars. Medi- cine is not commerce, and success is not fame nor money. Medicine is to give health to all who lack health without limitations, without conditions. Success is to give as much as one can to others. Thirty years passed from my life without knowing this fact, without under- standing life, without realizing myself. How could I have done so while I was not thinking except to take and take, and realizing oneself is not achieved except by giving and giving. I heard him saying: - Try to sleep. - I can not. - He will be all right afterthe blood transfusion. - He will never be all right. - You did not take the money from him. - Oh, do not remind me! But could I forget? that small room in the basement! that dirty cushion on the ground! that small pool of red blood! that young wasted face! those dry sunken eyes! and that long thin arm lifted up into my face with the dirty greenish pound! I hid my head in the cushion, seeking protection from my thought, feeling detached from my past and present, and becoming again a child just learning how to speak. For the first time in my life I feel small, weak, feel the need for someone. Never in my life before have I felt the need for anyone, even my mother. I buried my head in his bosom and wept, wept in relief.

Page 26 text:

About the Author Besides being a physician Nawal El Sedawy is a well known writer in her country, United Arab Republic. She has published four books, ,three of them collections of short stories, the fourth a novelette. She has also translated two books from English to Arabic: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith and Portrait of Albert Schweitzer by Charlie May Simon. Dr. Sedawy was also well known at CUSPHAM, being the only student who found the time to produce a baby in addition to the papers and finals. Atef Sherif Hetata was born on December 10, 1965 and weighed 7.5 lbs. As public health professionals the student body congratulates and thanks Dr. Sedawy for her contribution to our equilibrium this year and for her support of a well known public health institution-the Population Explosion. The novelette referred to above was named Memoirs of a Doctor. In it Dr. Sedawy described the life of a lady doctor living in U.A.R. From this Arabic novelette she has translated the following passage. Excerpt from Memoirs of a doctor by Nawal EI Sedawy, M.D. I looked at him, he was sweating. I saw his head close to the patient's head. I whispered in his ear: - Keep away, please. - Why? - His disease is infectious. - And you? - It is my duty, I have to do it under any circumstance. He looked at me silently, not moving from his place until I put the needle into the patient's vein. We sat near each other on the wooden box observing the red drops of blood while they were running from the bottle to the long rubber tube to the patient's vein. As if life has been instilled in these drops, so they participated with us the desire and anxiety to save the patient. I looked at him and smiled, saying: -I could not have done all this without your help. - No, you could. He pointed to the bottle of blood and said: - Does he need more? - No. I took the needle out of the vein. The patient looked at me with weary eyes, opened his dry lips and said in a faint voice: - Thank you. He put his hand with difficulty under his dirty cushion and took a torn greenish paper, and lifted up his thin long arm trying to give it to me. It was a pound. I did not know what happened to me at that moment, I felt dizzy, as if I was about to faint, but his strong arm held me. He said anxiously: - Are you tired? I looked at him not knowing what to say. I was not tired, but I was deeply touched. Did I reject this shameful situation-a very poor pa- tient starving to death giving money to a doctor . . . I really did not know, but I felt that it is no logic, it is no justice, it is no honour! How did I open my hand and take money from pa- tients all these past years? How did I sell health in my office to poor people? How did I fill my pocket with the sweat and blood of the sick? Oh! I felt his kind hand trying to help me inthe car, and he took me home. He put me to bed and said worriedly:

Page 28 text:

All those in favor of dropping this project say Aye. Who is she? Some read alot: some talked alotg some napped alot some gave alotg some looked alot. ...and my occlusion is marvelous too!