Thank God, things have changed!

Very often we hear our elders talk about “good old days” and we too refer to a bygone period as a golden era. But, without prejudice; it is untrue.

When I look back, many things have changed since my childhood.  Some of them are quite significant too and I am happy about the change. One such is invention of the disposable syringes. 

I was a very obedient child and never made fuss over going to school, not even once.  But every year during monsoon, there was a day, I didn’t want to go to school and my parents insisted that I should.  Those days, cholera was very rampant and to combat the epidemic, Government appointed sanitary inspectors (SI) visited schools.  The first time I saw an SI at school, I did not panic like my seniors.  To me, he was just another visitor. But what I experienced that day, I can never forget.  I can feel the pain even today.

My school authorities welcomed the SI and soon after the morning assembly, set up a table in the corridor.  The SI with the help of an assistant, (probably a nurse, I am not sure) placed a kerosene stove and boiled water in a vessel for sterilization..  They also kept some vials, cotton, a small bottle of antiseptic lotion and a large syringe.  The students were made to stand in a queue and with the same syringe and needle, the SI injected all students.  He sterilized the needle once in a while.  The teachers not only ensured discipline in the queue, but also used their authority to make sure that everyone was inoculated.  The nurse helped in tucking the sleeves and applying antiseptic before and after injection.  While some students cried after the injection was administered, some wailed in fear even before it was done. Some bold students tried to break the queue and run away and the school peon had to chase them and bring them back. 

The needle after multiple uses became so blunt, that it was very difficult for the SI to inject. Some students bled as the syringe was drawn back and for some, the blood coagulated. It was so painful and we could feel lumps in the muscle that remained sensitive for almost a year till the next season.  Though there was no fear of HIV, most of us got a fever after the ritual. After a year or two, if we had information about the deadly event, our parents permitted to take leave from school.

Thank God! We have fine disposable syringes now.