Cut your losses

Easy to say. Hard to follow!

Mind says one thing, and the heart pulls back on that. Logically, you want to move on, emotionally you hold back. You want the status quo.

I feel this the most when I see a stock show up in the red. When you stop to think, this must be the case with almost everything in life. You pay a cost when you hold onto something that you should have instead let go. The longer you hold onto it, the higher is the penultimate cost.

Is that the reason why decision making is encouraged in an unemotional state? As a trainee, at least that's what is drilled into your mind. The less you are attached to the person, the easier it will be when you have to take a hard call. The greater your emotional investment is, the harder it is on you, when you have to let go.

She lay on the bed with a broken arm, now splinted. It was bone mets. Unruly tissue from her breast, that had found its way to the humerus, gnawing on the bone from the inside making it weak enough such that it snapped into two, when trying to prop herself up on bed.

I tried to assuage her emotions. She lay there on bed, pining for her son. I learnt from her that he was flying down from London. He was getting a special splint for her. There hung an air of expectation about her, and she clung onto to it with all her hope, tenuously. In that state of mind, even the straws floating in water seemed like sturdy branches you can hold onto for your dear life.

The next day, I quietly made my rounds. He was there, by her side. Great expectations had crumbled. Whose? Hers? Or was it mine? Her limb was in a pouch sling, the special splint was not so special after all. It was a figment of my imagination dressed in her expectation. He was frowning as he urged his mom to take a walk. You have to get out of bed, the circulation has to get going, he emphasised Otherwise, you are going to have blood clots. Put those stockings on, he insisted. Don't take them off, please. Her husband, a retired Lieutenant General from the army, stood by her side watching the scene unfold, completely devoid of any emotion on his face. Rigid and upright. Wasn't he retired? Nevertheless, she was putting up a fight. As if the tumour and the broken arm was not enough, here her son was wagging his finger instead of mothering her with hugs and kisses. He was desperate to save her. I could see it in his eyes. He was doing the best he could, more so as I learnt later. But could he not see the pain in her eyes? Though she was the mother, she wanted him to mother her with love and affection. Not the finger wagging type of affection.

As a doctor on rounds, I should have stayed put. But I couldn't take it any more. I called him aside, gesturing him out of the room. You have just arrived. You must be stressed out with all the travel. She's stressed out as well, and in real pain. Give her some breathing space. Don't force her too much. Take it easy. He seemed taken aback, but was muted in response. He slowly nodded his head, gave a nervous smile, shook my hand and walked back to the room like a true gentleman.

Later, on rounds with my consultant, I learnt that our man was an orthopod himself. Oh my goodness! And here I was talking to him about taking it easy with his mother. Now it’s clear why he was goading his mom to walk and get active. He might've dealt with many such patients back in London and coaxed all of them out of bed. It was not the same with his mom. He was the doctor, in the true sense. Right now, he was sailing in unsteady waters, totally unemotional like his Dad, and relying on logic to steady his boat.

Decisions are probably best made in a state devoid of any emotion.

But that was the complex nature of that relationship. Mother, as she was, she was expecting a son to return to her arms, but instead a doctor had arrived.

Then why do we emote? What is the benefit if it leads us astray at a critical juncture? Is it about expressing ourselves? Is it about offloading something that hangs heavy over our head? Or is it about connecting with others? What about the scores of likes and shares of those reels and shorts that move us and make us tear up? Is it wrong of a mother to expect love and affection as she lay suffering? Was it wrong of me to consider her pain and suffering instead of adhering to the protocol?

Leave alone our genteel doctor-son, is it possible for anyone to switch in and out. Can they doff a doctor mode, quickly ditch that, and don a mother's doting love? Is that even possible? What should he adhere to, his mother's love or the Hippocratic oath, that was so deeply ingrained in him?

Everyone can't be winning at the bourses. If yours is green today, it is in the red for someone else. There's no two-way for it. Number don't allow ambiguity, except when it is complex numbers. But then, complex numbers are not real.

I must double down on my logical cap, firmly, less it's blown away by a gust of emotion.

Sell that damned share and get on with it.

Throw away that vile stuff, and move on.

Get away from that toxic guy, and get a life.

Cut away those habits, and start anew.

Then, when you are in your elements, you slip into your zone. At that point, you can lock up your logic and savour that moment. Soak it all up and let it run through your veins. Get enthralled and enraptured. Hold onto that singular moment for as long as you can.

In the end, that's what will keep us going.