The Ulcer That Refused to Close — A Ponmanipudi Story of Hidden Wounds

THE ULCER THAT REFUSED TO GO

(A Ponmanipudi Story)

The ulcer had been there for nine months.

Same size. Same angry edges. Same quiet defiance..

Every report was clean. Blood sugar well controlled. Leg Doppler done....Circulation adequate.

Dressings done regularly.

The wound should have closed.

It didn’t.

Dr Vishwas, the junior doctor at St. Augustine Hospital, tried again.

“Sir, everything is normal...still...?.”

Dr. Chari didn’t look at the file.

He looked at the foot.

Then at the Ravi anna.

“Does it pain?” Chari asked.

“Sometimes,” Ravi anna said.

“When?”

Ravi anna hesitated.

“After… certain days.”

“Which days?”

“After my big brother, Venkat visits.”

Chari nodded. No reaction...

The next week, the ulcer looked worse. Not infected. Not dirty.

Just… stubborn..

Dr Chari changed nothing. Same dressing. Just a little trimming of edges.. Same medicine.

He changed only one thing.

“Come alone next time,” he said.

When Ravi anna came alone, the room felt still..

Dr Chari cleaned the wound slowly. Not rushed. Nothing dramatic.

“Who shouted at you last?” Chari asked casually.

The man blinked.

“What?”

“Last time you felt small,” Chari said, still working.

“Who was there?”

Silence.

Then, quietly Ravi anna said

“My brother.”

Chari nodded again.

“I didn’t say anything,” Ravi added quickly.

“He is Elder.”

Dr. Chari finished dressing.

“I didn’t ask what you said,” he replied.

“I asked what stayed?.”

Ravi anna swallowed.

The next visit, the ulcer looked… the same.

Chari sat longer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said.

“But your body already has.”

Ravi anna looked down.

“My father gave the house to Venkat,” he said suddenly.

“I was there. I smiled.”

Chari said nothing.

“I handled it,” the man added.

“I moved on.”

Chari looked at the wound. It remained open.

A week later, Ravi didn’t come.

Two weeks passed.

When he returned, the ulcer looked slightly softer.

Not smaller.

Just… less angry.

“What happened?” Chari asked.

“I didn’t go to the family function,” the man said.

“No excuse. I just didn’t go.”

Chari nodded.

The next visit, the edges pinkened. Granulation appeared.

The junior doctor noticed.

“Sir… it’s improving.”

Dr. Chari didn’t smile.

That day, while dressing, Chari said only this:

“Your body is not weak.”

Ravi anna looked up.

“It stayed open because it was guarding something.”

Ravi's eyes filled.

Not tears. Just recognition.

After that, no conversations about the past.Only routine visits.

The ulcer closed slowly. As if… permission had been granted.

On the last day, Ravi stood at the door.

“Doctor,” he said.

“I didn’t forgive him.”

Chari nodded.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I just… stopped fighting,” the man added.

Chari smiled faintly.

“That’s enough.”

After he left, the junior doctor asked quietly,

“Sir… how did you know?”

Dr Chari washed his hands.

“The wound wasn’t refusing to heal,” he said.

“It was refusing to surrender.”

He paused.

“When the war ended,” he added,

“the body healed...”

That evening, Dr. Chari walked home.

Sita trotted beside him.

Nada hummed faintly in the distance.

Somewhere in Ponmanipudi,

another wound was probably staying open —doing its duty.

Chari didn’t feel heroic.

He never did.

He had not healed a wound.

He had simply not attacked it.

And sometimes,

that is how healing begins.🌿