The Hill Where I Learned What It Really Means to Be a Doctor 🩺

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 I still remember the silence of that mountain CHC.

No ICU, no specialists, no labs after 5 PM — just a stethoscope, torchlight, and hope.


During the early days of COVID, I was posted at a remote Community Health Centre in the hills — far from home, far from certainty.


Patients would come on foot or in shared jeeps, sometimes after walking miles. We had limited infrastructure — but unlimited urgency.


There was no ICU

No ventilators

No PPE kits 

No specialists 

Fewer staff

One oxygen concentrator and two oxygen cylinders 


But we had people. Villagers, families, daily wagers — all scared, all isolated.


In times of no roadmap , we created our own .


I didn’t just treat fevers and coughs. I held hands through anxiety. I sent and explained RT-PCR results in two languages (Hindi and broken Garhwali ). I helped arrange oxygen when trucks couldn’t reach us. We wrote applications to local leaders and higher centres  to donate us oxygen cylinders.


I coordinated referrals, helped manage ambulance routes, multiple hours on 108 helpline, dealt with emergencies, and built rapport with villagers (some of who had never seen a doctor up close before).


I wasn't just treating patients — I was earning trust, calming panic, and bringing structure to chaos.


That mountain CHC became my classroom — and I didn’t just learn medicine.


I learned:


How resilience grows in isolation


How calm saves lives


And how public health isn’t about beds and machines — it’s about access, awareness, and empathy



Those hills shaped the way I practice medicine even now.

And I carry that experience with me as I step into new roles where prevention, workplace health, and system-level impact matter more than ever.


#FrontlineMedicine #DoctorsLife #CHCstories #COVIDStories #PublicHealth #RuralHealthcare #OccupationalHealth #ResilienceInPractice #MedicalJourney #WomenInMedicine

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