Quinine encounters
I grow up in a small village with limited medical facilities. Our town has a small municipal hospital which we call as “ Dharmasapitri.” It means a free hospital. It has a doctor, a compounder for dispensing medicines and one nurse.
This hospital has two colonial buildings with a large open area outside. The first building houses the office of the Doctor, one bed for examination and the outlet for distribution of medicines. The second building is small, where autopsies take place.
There were no tablets those days, and the patients get only liquid medicines. There are no blood tests of any kind. The Doctor uses the stethoscope and checks breathing and the heartbeat. Occasionally, he examines the tongue and feels the stomach. If it is a fever with cold, it is Malaria. If there are frequent vomits and diarrhoea, it is food poisoning. Based on the prescription of the Doctor, Mr.Mathew, the compounder dispenses the medication. He mixes two or three different coloured liquids as per the dosage given by the Doctor. The patient has to carry a small clean bottle, and Mathew will put the required mixture in the container and give it to the patient. The patient needs to wait in the queue to collect his bottle. Based on the colour, it is easy to guess the disease of the patient. Every second patient with an illness gets six doses of greenish liquid — quinine. The Doctor requests the patient to go light in the diet and fast in some cases.
On a specific day, I come to the hospital as I have a cold and fever and I carry a small empty bottle for the medicine. The Doctor examines me and decides on the mixture I need to take. It is not rocket science to know that he has prescribed quinine mixture.
I collect my bottle and head home. My mother prepares ‘Salep’, a kind of kanji. After my first kanji, I take my first dose of medicine. I lie down for thirty minutes or so, and there is a sudden churn in my stomach. I presume it would pass. But the churn comes in the form of a big wave. I control myself and head to the bathroom. I start puking, and the kanji along with greenish medicine comes out. There is a lot of bitterness in my mouth, and I drink a glass of water. The acidity drives the second round of puking. This cycle — drinking water and puking — continues for a few more times, and I sit down in the bathroom as I am unable to stand. My mother sees my plight and carries me into the house. She gives me more kanji and asks me to rest. I need to take another dose of quinine mixture in the evening. My mind and body completely resist the second dose as they are aware of the upcoming sequence of events. Again, there is significant churn in my stomach, and the vomiting cycle becomes unstoppable. I become alright after three days, and I never forget the bitter experience throughout my life. I swear that I will not take quinine in my lifetime again.
The second encounter with quinine is when my friend invites me for a drink in Indiranagar club. He orders gin with tonic water while I order mango juice. It seems tonic water has a small dose of quinine along with sugar and carbonated water. The origin of the tonic water dates back to the British rule in India. The British officers consumed tonic water -medicinal quinine mixed with sugar and soda- along with gin. Tonic water has become a standard accompaniment for a gin drinker.
The third encounter with quinine is when I hear of millions of Hydroxychloroquine tablets shipped from India to several countries across the globe. It seems this tablet is the magic medicine for treating COVID-19. There are mixed reports on the usage of the above drug. Time only will tell. I only hope that I will not get another opportunity to use the dreaded drug once more in my life.
Quinine is deadly.
Beginnings
In 1820, quinine was extracted from the Cinchona bark, isolated and named by Pierre Joseph Pelletier and Joseph Caventou. The origin of Cinchona goes back to Peru. Purified quinine then replaced the bark as the standard treatment for Malaria.
