It was in the late 1970s. I was working as
Consultant Surgeon, Batticaloa. I had to do a Surgical Clinic every week at the
Valaichchenai Hospital, close to the famous Pasikuda beach. Only the Rest House
and a few tourist cottages were there. It was a haunt of a few ‘Hippies’ from
all over the world, who found cheap living in the area. While I was seeing the
patients at the surgical clinic, the Medical Officer in charge asked me to see
a female Hippie tourist, who seemed very agitated but was otherwise looking
normal clinically. There were two European females and a Thai male. The female
tourist referred to me was constantly fanning herself even though the ambient
temperature was cool. She also was restless. I had come in my Toyota Corolla Station
Wagon with my wife Ramya accompanying me on the journey. Since this patient
needed the attention of a Consultant Physician, I suggested to the Medical
Officer that the patient be transferred to the General Hospital Batticaloa
about 12 miles away. Since there was no ambulance available immediately, I offered
to take the patient with her female companion in my car, since my wife also was
in the car. After I finished the clinic, we took off. I was driving and Ramya
was seated in the front seat. The agitated patient and her female companion sat
in the rear seat of the car. I had driven a few miles when there were noises of
agitation from the rear seat. My wife looked back and told me softly, ‘Mey
Gaani Heluwey’ – This woman is naked – ‘Do not look back’. On receipt of this
information, I decided not to take the patient to the General Hospital at
Batticaloa, where she would make a spectacle of herself. I thought of taking
her to a Catholic Convent in Batticaloa, where my friend Sister Concetta from
Malta was in charge. I drove to the
convent, met Sister Concetta and she consented graciously to take the girl and
her companion in, for 24 hours observation. I told her to summon me if there
was any emergency.
When I visited the convent the next day, the patient
was the picture of a demure European lass and she and her female companion were
in the best of spirits. I inquired from her what caused her illness. She said
that she and her companion had gone to a wayside boutique where hot ‘Rottys’
were for sale. The patient had swallowed two
‘rotties’, unlike her companion who had taken only one, as the ‘rotties’
were tasty. That had been her undoing.
In retrospect, I recognized all the symptoms of
atropine poisoning taught to us at Medical College – ‘Mad as a March Hare, Red
as a beet etc …’. She had been a victim of Datura leaf ingestion. The leaf
would have been cooked in the ‘rottties’. Datura – ‘Aththanne’ in Sinhalese and
‘Poomaththai’ in Tamil, has a long history of use in local lore. More of that
later.
