RAD­HI­CA DE SIL­VA

Se­nior Mul­ti­me­dia Re­porter

rad­hi­ca.sookraj@guardian.co.tt

The con­tri­bu­tions of Dr Bhag­wa­tee Se­u­nar­ine to health­care in south Trinidad are be­ing re­mem­bered fol­low­ing her re­cent death at the age of 91, with fam­i­ly and for­mer col­leagues re­flect­ing on a life ded­i­cat­ed to med­i­cine, ser­vice and fam­i­ly.

Dur­ing fu­ner­al trib­utes, her son, promi­nent pae­di­a­tri­cian Dr Umang Minocha, and long­time col­league anaes­thetist Dr Anand Cha­toor­goon re­count­ed her jour­ney from hum­ble be­gin­nings in Debe to a decades-long ca­reer in the op­er­at­ing the­atres of the San Fer­nan­do Gen­er­al Hos­pi­tal.

Dr Minocha said his moth­er’s life was shaped by de­ter­mi­na­tion and sac­ri­fice.

He said when Dr Se­u­nar­ine left Trinidad in 1956 on an In­di­an gov­ern­ment schol­ar­ship, she was among the first women from this coun­try to trav­el to In­dia to study med­i­cine.

“She would lat­er re­turn home as a doc­tor and spend decades work­ing in the op­er­at­ing the­atres of the San Fer­nan­do Gen­er­al Hos­pi­tal, where gen­er­a­tions of pa­tients un­der­went surgery un­der her care,” Dr Minocha re­called.

Born on No­vem­ber 11, 1934, Dr Se­u­nar­ine was one of 13 chil­dren of Se­u­nar­ine Ma­haraj, a cane cut­ter, pun­dit and mu­si­cian, and Ram­daye Se­u­nar­ine, a seam­stress, of Debe.

“Though they came from hum­ble be­gin­nings, my grand­par­ents deeply val­ued ed­u­ca­tion and worked tire­less­ly to en­sure their chil­dren had op­por­tu­ni­ties in life,” Dr Minocha said.

Af­ter at­tend­ing Na­pari­ma Girls’ High School, he said, Dr Se­u­nar­ine se­cured a schol­ar­ship to pur­sue med­ical stud­ies in In­dia. While there, she mar­ried his fa­ther, Kishore Lal Minocha, and gave birth to Dr Minocha in 1958.

Break­ing down in tears, Dr Minocha said his fa­ther died lat­er that same year, leav­ing Dr Se­u­nar­ine wid­owed with an in­fant while she was still com­plet­ing her med­ical de­gree.

“Look­ing back now, I can­not imag­ine how dif­fi­cult those years must have been for her. Rais­ing a young child alone while pur­su­ing med­i­cine and build­ing a fu­ture for us both,” Dr Minocha said.

Some of Dr Minocha’s ear­li­est mem­o­ries were formed while Dr Se­u­nar­ine stud­ied at La­dy Hardinge Med­ical Col­lege in Del­hi and he was be­ing cared for by rel­a­tives in Pun­jab.

“When­ev­er she vis­it­ed, she brought gifts for me,” he re­called. “I would run to my grand­moth­er say­ing, ‘A guest has ar­rived, a guest has ar­rived,’ not re­al­is­ing that this love­ly la­dy was ac­tu­al­ly my own moth­er.”

He said af­ter com­plet­ing her stud­ies, Dr Se­u­nar­ine re­turned to Trinidad and be­gan what would be­come a long ca­reer in med­i­cine.

Dr Minocha said that de­spite her pro­fes­sion­al re­spon­si­bil­i­ties, Dr Se­u­nar­ine re­mained deeply con­nect­ed to fam­i­ly, re­li­gion and com­mu­ni­ty life.

He de­scribed her as a reg­u­lar at­tendee at sat­sangs and re­li­gious cer­e­monies who en­joyed trav­el­ling, dri­ves to Mara­cas and Ma­yaro, drink­ing cof­fee and Sun­day morn­ing dou­bles.

“Even in the last six months, she was still telling me and my boys the same piece of ad­vice when we went to the beach: ‘Don’t go deep, don’t go deep,’” he said.

In lat­er years, Dr Minocha said much of her at­ten­tion was de­vot­ed to her grand­chil­dren and great-grand­chil­dren.

“She felt great joy in en­gag­ing with them and watch­ing their videos over and over again,” Dr Minocha said.

Re­flect­ing on her in­flu­ence, Dr Minocha said her lega­cy ex­tend­ed far be­yond her med­ical ac­com­plish­ments.

“Mom gave so much of her­self qui­et­ly and with­out seek­ing recog­ni­tion,” he said. “Through her sac­ri­fices, prayers, guid­ance and un­con­di­tion­al love, she taught me the val­ues that will stay with me for­ev­er.”

Dr Se­u­nar­ine’s pro­fes­sion­al lega­cy was al­so high­light­ed by Dr Cha­toor­goon, who re­called that anaes­the­sia was not orig­i­nal­ly the spe­cial­ty she in­tend­ed to pur­sue.

Dr Cha­toor­goon said a short­age of spe­cial­ists at the San Fer­nan­do Gen­er­al Hos­pi­tal prompt­ed then Med­ical Chief of Staff Dr Per­ci­val Harnarayan to as­sign her to the field.

“The spe­cial­i­ty of anaes­the­sia was not one that Bag­gie chose for her­self,” Dr Cha­toor­goon said, us­ing the nick­name by which col­leagues knew her. “She was thrust in­to this field be­cause of a short­age of, and a need for, anaes­thetists at that time.”

Un­der the guid­ance of Dr Pat Tsoi-a-Sue, Dr Cha­toor­goon said Dr Se­u­nar­ine trained in anaes­the­sia and went on to spend much of her ca­reer in the hos­pi­tal’s op­er­at­ing the­atres.

Dr Cha­toor­goon said she be­came known for her care­ful ad­min­is­tra­tion of anaes­thet­ic drugs and her abil­i­ty to have pa­tients emerge from anaes­the­sia as sur­gi­cal pro­ce­dures con­clud­ed.

“Her name be­came syn­ony­mous with the not-so-eas­i­ly-ac­quired art of wak­ing up pa­tients very quick­ly to­wards the end of the sur­gi­cal pro­ce­dure,” he said.

He not­ed that Dr Se­u­nar­ine lat­er formed a long­stand­ing part­ner­ship with fel­low anaes­thetist Dr Jean Koon­how-Cox.

“To­geth­er, Bag­gie and Jean Cox pro­vid­ed a great anaes­thet­ic ser­vice to thou­sands of pa­tients who sought sur­gi­cal ser­vices at the San Fer­nan­do Gen­er­al Hos­pi­tal,” he said.

Even af­ter leav­ing full-time em­ploy­ment, Dr Se­u­nar­ine con­tin­ued serv­ing as a part-time anaes­thetist at the in­sti­tu­tion.

For Dr Cha­toor­goon, her place in the his­to­ry of health­care in south Trinidad is se­cure.

“If ever the his­to­ry of the Anaes­thet­ic De­part­ment of the San Fer­nan­do Gen­er­al Hos­pi­tal were to be writ­ten and doc­u­ment­ed, the name of Dr Bhag­wa­tee Se­u­nar­ine would and must fea­ture promi­nent­ly in that nar­ra­tive,” he said.