Dr.Vinodhini Bhaskaran

28/11/2025

Will be resuming operations as usual from December15th. Apologies for the inconvenience 🙏

26/11/2025

The Diary of an OBGYN
A life saved..Thanks to ChatGPT!

Some days in medicine unfold like a script you didn’t know you were part of.
Today was one of them.

A couple walked into my clinic.
I was about to wrap up and head back home when my clinic assistant asked if I could accept a walk-in, as the couple had insisted to which I had reluctantly agreed!

She hadn’t even missed her period.
Just two weeks of odd, persistent bleeding — something she had never experienced before.
No pain. No dizziness. No symptoms that would raise any textbook red flag.

And yet, here she was.

She confessed, almost sheepishly,
“I only did the UPT because ChatGPT told me to.”
A faint positive. Barely there.
Her husband shook his head, still unconvinced.
“Doctor, we’ve hardly been together… could it be a false positive?”

Their disbelief hung heavy in the air.

The scan told a different story.
A completely empty uterus, shadows dancing in the pouch of Douglas —
turbid fluid swirling like a quiet warning.
No clear adnexal mass.
Just the subtle but unmistakable echo of danger.

The BHCG came back: 186.
Too low to see anything, too high to ignore.

Sometimes that’s the cruel poetry of an ectopic —
it hides behind small numbers and silent symptoms.

Convincing them wasn’t easy.
How do you explain a life-threatening emergency to someone who feels perfectly fine?
But the clock was ticking, and somewhere deep within, my instincts refused to let this go.

She needed a laparoscopy.
Now.

As I finally got their reluctant nod, I felt that familiar shiver —
the one that reminds me why medicine is part science, part intuition,
and sometimes… part divine choreography.

A single suggestion — from an AI chat window, of all places — had sent them in early enough.
And that made all the difference.

Tonight, I’m ending my day grateful…
For intuition, for technology, and for the mysterious ways the universe nudges us to the right place at the right time.

24/11/2025

The diary of an OBGYN

Some days in medicine feel heavy, and some surprise you with light you never expected.

Last week, I witnessed a moment that left my heart aching — a woman, still fragile in the CCU after her hysterectomy, was handed a heartbreak she did not deserve. Her husband walked in only to walk out of their marriage, leaving a silence thicker than the pain she was already carrying.

But today… today unfolded differently.

He returned. Not with excuses, but with remorse. His eyes softer, his voice unsteady, carrying the weight of a decision made in fear rather than clarity. He apologised — sincerely, humbly — and she listened. Not with bitterness, but with the quiet strength only women seem to possess.

And somehow, in that small cubicle filled with monitors and antiseptic air, something shifted. The sharp edges of the past week softened. The distance between them closed. The prayers — hers, mine, and perhaps those whispered by many unseen — found their way into their story.

They held hands again as he made her walk back to her bed. Two people trying, healing, choosing each other after almost losing everything.

Tonight, I write this with gratitude.
For second chances.
For softened hearts.
For the unexpected grace that sometimes finds its way into the most sterile rooms.
For the reminder, that not all healing comes from medicine.
Some of it comes from hearts finding their way back home.

Some wounds need stitches.
Some need time.
And some, thankfully, heal with love returning to its rightful place.

21/11/2025

The Diary of an OBGYN

Today was one of those days that reminded me how medicine is never just about bodies — it’s about lives unraveling and reforming right in front of us.

She lay in the CCU, still recovering from her hysterectomy — a surgery she went into, against her wishes as her disease had ravaged her uterus beyond the point of salvage. Her body was fighting its quiet battles: pain, exhaustion, the sheer weight of what had just been taken from her. I thought the hardest part of her day was behind her with the sixth pint of blood flowing through her veins!

But life has a way of finding new ways to break a person.

Her husband walked in, not with flowers, not with comfort, not with the tenderness one instinctively expects in such a moment. Instead, he brought a finality that had nothing to do with sutures or healing. Standing by her bedside, in the CCU with a witness on video call, he finalised the divorce in minutes. Just hours after she lost a part of herself to disease, she lost a part of her life to him.

I watched her absorb the blow — not with anger, not even with shock, but with a tired kind of resignation. As if her heart had already learned to brace for impact. For a moment, the monitors were kinder than the man who had vowed to stand beside her in sickness and in health.

I stayed by her side a little longer than usual. Not to fix anything — because this was a wound no surgeon could repair — but simply to bear witness. Sometimes that is all we can do. I stood aghast as I was least prepared for this “complication”!

“Is a woman only worth her womb?” I wonder, as my heart aches and tears slip quietly inward, hidden beneath the steady, practiced mask of a surgeon.

Tonight, I carry her story with me. A stark reminder that some scars start far beyond the surgical field!

21/11/2025