It was with great sadness that I heard,last night, about the death of a former work colleague from my Spinal Injury Unit days. Consultant Mr Ravichandran (or just plain "Ravi" as he was universally better known as ) was the dynamic,sometimes infuriating but always vital heart of "spines". For years I had the privilege to experience his sharp, holistic and invariably client based perspectives of rehabilitation, and even though I often disagreed with the way he viewed some aspects of the world, I always felt respected in my own professional judgements and ideas.
Ravi enjoyed being the "daddy" of the unit. He had his favourite nurses and therapists, which he would always seek out for the odd lively and sometimes heated debate and seemed to delight in throwing in a grenade of a provocative statement and watching the effect it had on an individual or group. He often polarised opinions but always commanded a very real affection and respect from his staff and I think the reason for this was the fact that he would always go that extra mile to show his support for people.
When I left Sheffield I did miss his dapper slightly awkward figure popping in and out, in a slightly harassed and seemingly arbitrary way. He was as much a part of the place as the bricks and mortar
We all have plenty of ‘Ravi’ memories, of course. The defining one for me was rather late in my Spinal Unit days: sat with Ravi on a hot and sun-bleached balcony, both of us squinting slightly in the harsh late-morning light, elaborating on the vagaries of some problem or other that felt important at the time, but now seems rather unimportant and small. These were the times when he’d return to my ward following the ‘rounds’ to pick up a thread that had been dropped earlier that day; subtleties were never privately ignored by Ravi, despite the crushing and sometimes hard-bitten public culture of the unit that often misrecognised discussion as threat, and the understated as dangerous.
ReplyDeleteAnd unlike many folk on ‘the unit’, I never sparred destructively with him: as a fluid, wise and sometimes irascible diplomat, he instinctively knew that I didn’t play to an audience, neither his nor my own, and that conversation therefore was best undertaken at a slower tempo and calm sentiment. I realise that for many folk Ravi was someone to banter and argue with, a painful addiction for many staff within the unit, I seem to recall, particularly when they lost! I guess that my experience was somewhat different, and I came to learn that he was far more left-field than ‘unit’ convention would often dare allow, at least publically.
Those people who know me have learned that I don’t give or receive respect with ease. They also realise that sometimes I’ll afford respect in unexpected places, particularly for those who are genuine mavericks, those who think differently, laterally, sometimes controversially, but always with a wise precision. I genuinely held a great deal of respect for Ravi, and I feel lucky to have been part of his story, albeit a small one, and feel genuinely saddened by his premature death.
well said Nige....
ReplyDeleteI have very little to add..........
Ravi loved ideas and one thought would always trigger another thread and then another then another.....very much like flight of ideas in a psychiatric patient.......
I will miss him and the time he marked