National Doctors Day-2025 Special: Through Us, He Heals

This Doctor’s Day begins with silence

A silence of mourning. For the doctors who lost their lives during last year, particularly in the recent Ahmedabad plane crash, lives dedicated to saving others, cut short in seconds. They were not passengers. They were physicians en route to healing. Their final journey was not for vacation, but for vocation. And that makes their passing all the more sacred. We raise our hearts in tribute. Because when a doctor dies in the line of duty, something deeper than a heartbeat stops, a promise does.

Thousand Unseen Moments Behind the White Coat

Doctor’s Day is not a marketing event for health apps or hospital chains. It is, or should be, a moment to reflect. To reflect on what it really means to be a doctor. Not just in high-tech ICUs, but in overburdened OPDs, understaffed wards and emotionally charged hospital corridors. Let’s talk honestly.

What does a day look like for many of us?

100+ patients in one OPD shift. Barely 3 minutes per patient, if you are lucky. Attendants pressing in. Voices rising. “Doctor sahab, hum pehle aaye hain, pehle humari baari hai!” People on your back. On your breath. On your nerves. There are days you don’t even drink water. There are days you don’t even exhale fully, because there’s no time.

And yet... we stay.

We Continue, Even When the Facilities Doesn’t Make It Easy

We treat without all the ideal tools. Sometimes an OPD room without proper ventilation, fan and AC. Without diagnostic support. Without backup. Sometimes with flickering lights and crashing servers. Sometimes with a sense of helplessness that tastes metallic in the mouth.

And yet... we continue.

Not because we have all the facilities. But because someone has to show up. Because behind that token is a diabetic mother who has walked miles. A child burning with fever. An old man whose only hope is that “Doctor sahab will understand.”

We Work With Lives

Yes, some doctors in the private sector now chart records on screens. But most still scribble notes on prescription pads barely legible in the rush. And while the world discusses AI in surgery and robotic assistance, we are often just trying to get a working BP apparatus, batteries for pulse oximeter and enough gloves.

And still, we return to our OPDs. We reopen our chambers. We re-press the stethoscope to a beating heart, hoping we don’t miss something crucial in that tiny window of time.

We Face the Anger

Let’s not romanticize this profession. Sometimes, the very people we’re trying to help get agitated. An outcome doesn’t go as hoped. A complication arises. And suddenly, the doctor becomes the enemy. Raised voices. Threats. Abuse. In some places, even violence.

And yet, we breathe. We don’t retaliate. We return the next morning, as if nothing happened. Because we know, the pain of illness doesn’t come alone. It brings fear. Confusion. Rage. And somewhere, we accept that too, as part of our service.

This Profession Is Not Untouched by Commercialization

Let’s not pretend every white coat is pure.

Yes, some have turned medicine into a market.
Yes, a few treat patients as consumers.
Yes, greed has crept in through some doors.

But don’t let the few cast shadows on the many. The many who still treat patients with empathy, without charging a rupee to the marginalised. The many who say “Don’t worry about the money, first let’s make you better.” The many who sit after hours, guiding anxious families, making calls, arranging help. They know, they are not just dealing with bodies. They are dealing with lives. And more than that, they are vessels through which healing happens.

God Heals. He Guides a Doctor

And isn’t that the deepest reward? To be an instrument, however flawed, in the hands of the Divine, is a blessing. To be chosen, again and again, to be the bridge between pain and peace, between panic and understanding.

We don’t wear capes. We wear name tags and tired eyes. But behind every prescription, every diagnosis, every explanation, every surgery, there is prayer. A silent, whispered plea: “O God, guide my hands and heal this patient with Your grace.”

What greater privilege than this? To be the tool through which healing happens. To be the voice someone waits all day to hear. To be the reason someone sleeps easier tonight. What more can a doctor ask for?

So Today, Don’t Just Thank Us. Understand Us.

If you truly want to honour a doctor today, do this:

• 
  Let them take a breath between patients.
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  Trust that they are doing their best, even when the news isn’t good.
• 
  Remember that they are human too, with families, emotions and limits.

And if you are a doctor reading this, know this too:

Your work is seen, even when it’s not posted.
Your struggle is sacred, even when it goes unspoken.
And your presence matters, more than you will ever know.

You may not always be applauded. You may not always be understood. But you are necessary. You are needed. And through you– He heals.