TRY telling a mother that her only son is so ill that he will die within the next 48 hours.

Or telling a father that his heart is so weak that he will not live to attend his daughter’s wedding in a month’s time.

Try telling a husband that his wife’s frail body has been consumed by cancer and that they will not be able to celebrate their upcoming 25th wedding anniversary together.

Or telling a sister that the brother with whom she always fought but secretly adored is unlikely to be around for her next birthday.

Heart-wrenching moments that unfortunately I have had to be part of. On multiple occasions. And Man! The truth hurts.

As I celebrate my 25th year as a specialist doctor, I look back at my journey of being asked tough questions by nervous, sometimes petrified and often shattered, patients.

“Doc! Do I really need that bypass surgery?”

“Why can’t I just take some medication and be done with it?”

“Can I get a stroke after an open-heart surgery?”

“Is there a possibility that I will die on the operating table?”

Then, there are those who try to ease their anxiety by trying to be amusing.

“Hey, Doc! Can I have sex after heart surgery, or will I go when I come!! Ha, ha!”

“If I die in the operating room, will you make sure that at least I look good in my coffin ya?!”

And some questions that really tug at your heart strings.

“Doctor! My only daughter, whom I have spent a fortune on, is graduating in London in three months’ time. Will I be able to attend her convocation?!”

“Honestly, Doc, I never thought that I would get married. Then, I never thought that I would become a father! Now with God’s grace, I am going to become a grandfather! Do you think I will be around to hold the baby?”

In all these years, the common factor in all my replies has been the truth. No lies. No false promises.

Those who were privileged to have known my late father, Mannazhi Balchand, will vouch for the fact that he was straighter than a straight line. I have only, always, ever wanted to be known as my father’s son.

However, there are those who constantly tell lies. Without batting an eyelid. They cheat. They steal.

People from this country have stolen from the rich and the poor. From adults and from funds meant for innocent children, some of them with no parents.

They have stolen from religious organisations and military cooperatives. From pension funds. The list goes on….

You cannot spend your entire life receiving. At some point, you have to give back. Give back to the country and her people who made you who you are.

At this stage in my career, I don’t think I can become very much better at my job. But I certainly can and seriously want to become a better man.

I want to make my country a better place. I can do that by provoking thought. Good thoughts.

They say the pen is often mightier than the sword, or in my case, a scalpel! I hope to touch Malaysian lives with both.

Twenty-five years of truthfully answering tough questions have made me despise the two traits that are increasingly defining our country – dishonesty and hypocrisy.

I confess I know nothing about economics, gross domestic product or foreign direct investment, terms that are frequently used in the 12th Malaysia Plan document. But I do know that this country will not progress if our people continue to tell lies, cheat, steal, disrespect fellow Malaysians or divide our people by using the very instruments that are meant to unite us.

October 19 is an auspicious, holy day. Let’s start on our new journey with folded hands and bowed heads. – October 19, 2021.

* Dr Venugopal Balchand reads The Malaysian Insight.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.