THERE is no denying the fact that medicine has made progress over the decades, but way back in the 1940s, Quinine, an alkaloid of Cinchona, was the main treatment for malaria. And for years, it remained so. Now synthetic and less toxic drugs, such as Chloroquine and Proguanil, have replaced it almost entirely. However, it is still used in the form of Quinine Sulphate or Quinine Hydrochloride in cases of resistance to the newer drugs or for emergency cases, in which large doses are necessary.
It is an indisputable fact that the overdosing of toxic drugs can have undesirable side effects — sometimes these are irreversible and cause permanent damage. Quinine has been one such drug in my case. For me, it has not been a boon but a bane. It has seriously affected the quality of my life and in the sunset years of my life, I have lost over seventy per cent of my hearing and am saddled with hearing aids in both ears.
In the early ’40s, when World War II broke out, we had fled from Calcutta to Rajkot, one of the larger princely states in Kathiawar. Close to Rajasthan, Rajkot was a fairly modern city, however, sanitation was a disturbing issue and mosquitoes thrived in the dry climate. I was just 12 years old and throughout my life, had been a sick child. In spite of the mosquito nets under which we slept, I suffered serious bouts of malaria and Dr Upadhia, our family doctor, persisted in treating me with large doses of Quinine. At that time, it was the only drug that really worked. The attacks of malaria continued for three long years and I suffered in silence. Finally, the attacks ceased. Although the Quinine had worked, the large doses over the years had seriously damaged the nerves in both ears. But I was not to know this until later.
The side effects were not noticeable, but by my early 30s, my hearing started to deteriorate. This was in the early ’60s and Dr Pinto who was our family doctor, directed me to Dr Nizami, the leading ENT specialist. After a thorough examination at his clinic, he carried out elaborate hearing tests at Jinnah Hospital, where special equipment for this purpose had been installed.
It was confirmed that the mega doses of Quinine that had been given to me in my childhood had adversely affected the nerves in my ears, on account of which there was now progressive loss in my hearing. He prescribed Niacin tablets, which unfortunately were of no help. I took a couple of bottles, but had to stop taking these tablets when they left me noticeably flushed.
He warned me that the loss in my hearing would increase over the years and sure enough, I had serious problems once I crossed 50. I had to sit closer to people in order to converse and would often have to ask people to repeat themselves. My family pestered me to go in for a hearing aid, but with little success. Even when my brother-in-law brought one for me from Dubai, I refused to wear it and put it away in my cupboard.
I was becoming a recluse and the last straw on the camel’s back was when my wife gave me an ultimatum. She threatened to stop talking to me unless I used a hearing aid, and when the two of us visited the States in 1989, my daughter in Chicago pressured me in taking a hearing test which was conducted at her home, free of charge by a representative of a hearing-aid manufacturing company. The tests confirmed that there was severe hearing loss in both ears and that I just could not do without a hearing aid.
He warned me that I was risking my life, because without a hearing aid, a car could run me down whilst I crossed the road. I then relented and consented to wear one. He wanted me to wear hearing aids in both ears but the last thing I wanted was to look like an old foggy. I agreed to wear just one — in my left ear, which was the better ear. I was not too happy about it, although the hearing aid did help to a great extent.
It took a long time getting used to a hearing aid. During a conversation, I still had to position myself so that the sound waves travelled towards the ear in which I wore my hearing aid. It needed frequent servicing and repairs, but a Mr Shamim and his staff at an optical shop opposite the Karachi Municipal Corporation on M.A. Jinnah Road were always there to help out.
And I had to take it off when I used the telephone. Once, I forgot to put it on again and it promptly fell from my pocket when I bent down to retrieve something from the floor. As delicate as the shell of an egg, it shattered to pieces and for some time, that was the end of my hearing-aid. It could not be repaired in Karachi, but on our next trip to the States, the manufacturers did a wonderful job of putting it together again. To compound matters, the average life of a hearing machine is just five years. The components are very tiny and the tropical climate of Pakistan acts adversely on these components.
I suppose I will have to live with these little inconveniences in order to carry on with the rest of my life. I am sure there are many instances like mine, where toxic drugs prescribed by doctors over an undue period of time have caused irreparable damage and eventually made life miserable for their patients. When doctors pick up their pens to prescribe medicines, they should remember that moderation can indeed be a virtue, specially where toxic drugs are concerned. This fact cannot be emphasized too strongly. And I would go on to say that this applies to practically everything in our lives.
