From Wikiart |
When I decided to take a few days’ break from blogging
at the end of Feb, I didn’t think the days were going to be as terrible as they
turned out to be. I was feeling tired and decided to give my body a little
rest. But instead of taking the much-deserved rest, my body started whining and
twining. Soon the body ache was drowned by the thumping of a dozen sledgehammers
in the head. When I couldn’t bear it any longer, I asked Maggie to accompany me
to hospital. She checked the time: one am. It was not quite the appropriate
time to disturb people in the neighbourhood for driving us to hospital. “I can
drive,” I said. Maggie decided to trust me. She knows that I can be terribly
stubborn sometimes.
The road was absolutely empty and it
took hardly ten minutes to reach the hospital. The security allowed me to park our
car in the doctors’ parking area when I told him I was the patient. I liked the
security guy for being so understanding. Like me, he too thought that I would
require just a few minutes’ treatment in the casualty.
A very young doctor, who looked like
an undergrad student, was on duty. I told her about my headache, body ache, fever,
cough, and voicelessness. I had lost my voice; I managed to wheeze out a few
words and Maggie filled in the necessary blanks.
The doctor chose to focus on the
headache. Later I found out that she was a junior neurologist. As a
neurologist, she didn’t find my other aches and problems of interest to her. I
was put on an intravenous paracetamol drip. I swallowed a few tablets. The
headache subsided. But I continued to cough and Maggie drew the attention of
the nurse to my cough. “We’ll tell the doctor,” the nurse said. The petite neurologist
had vanished.
The new doctor on duty didn’t come to
me. It was already taken for granted by the multi-speciality hospital that I
needed neurological care and nothing more, nothing less. Maggie asked the nurse
what we had to do when the paracetamol drips were finished. “Wait until the
main neurologist comes,” the nurse said. I continued to cough and the nurse
continued to ignore the cough. Eventually the hospital brainwashed me into
believing that my cough was not a problem that deserved any medical attention.
“When will the neurologist come?”
Maggie asked when many other doctors came and went without even throwing a
glance at me.
“Nine nine-thirty,” the nurse said.
We had no choice but wait.
“Maybe, we have parked our car in the
parking space of the neurologist,” I suggested to Maggie, “and he may be trying
to find parking space.”
Then came the bad news. Maggie’s
brother passed away at 9.10. He was in a critical condition and Maggie and I
were supposed to visit him as soon as my headache was dealt with. The news of
his death didn’t come as a shock. But it left us sad.
At around 9.45, Maggie told the nurse
that we had to go as early as possible. She told the nurse about her brother’s
death. The nurse stared at Maggie and went to the supervisor who made a phone
call. “The doctor is coming right now,” the nurse said to Maggie. “Why didn’t
you tell me about this earlier?” Maggie didn’t answer that. Should someone die
for a doctor to attend to you?
Then came an announcement in the PA
system of the hospital. All over the 6-storey building, in every room and every
corridor, the announcement boomed. “The car number so-and-so is parked in the
doctors’ parking space. Please remove it immediately.”
I got up from my bed and asked Maggie
to give me the car key. Holding the key in the hand to which a cannula was
attached rather prominently, I walked out of the casualty. “Is it your car,
sir?” The security at the casualty door asked. “Yes,” I said. “Give me the key,
I’ll park your car in the right place.” “Thank you,” I said handing the key to
him.
The neurologist came soon enough. He
couldn’t identify the cause of my headache. So he prescribed half a dozen
different tablets one or a few of which will deal effectively with my ache
hopefully. What about my cough and chest congestion? That is not the neurologist’s
concern, is it?
As I was lying in that hospital bed,
I noticed how all the doctors behaved more or less in the same manner. They
were all in a hurry. They listen to one or two symptoms from the patient, assume
that the patient is suffering from a particular problem, ask some questions
related to that problem – like ‘how many times did you feel like vomiting?’ or ‘and
you felt dizzy?’ – all in such a hurry that the patient is not sure whether he
was supposed to answer the questions at all.
Maggie and I attended the funeral services
of her brother. We are back home. I have lost my voice totally. Maggie is keen
to take me to hospital once again. I feel like a little student who is
unwilling to go to school.
I have often wondered whether our hospitals make us more sick than we were earlier.
Boycott 💊 it's time we switched to Nature's care. Why are you not yet disillusioned, I wonder! And how are you feeling now, sir?
ReplyDeleteNature's care takes too long. We need instant remedies, don't we?
DeleteIf we stop misusing the medical science - rather, use it as it should be - it will do a lot of good. But it's all commerce now. Imagine someone spending over a crore rupees to become a doc....
Dawnanddew
ReplyDeleteYes. Doctors are not mostly reliable these days. They spend a lot of money to get the degree. Quality is proportionally less that way.
ReplyDeleteAlarming situation. Everywhere hospitals became like that. Please take care.
ReplyDeleteTake care. Best wishes for a quick recovery from the doctors/ailment.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I usually recover quickly.
DeleteHari OM
ReplyDeleteThis is a problem all too common in hospitals of the world; too much specialism and not enough generalism, too few doctors to too many patients, too few beds for too many patients... meanwhile, given the recent events in the world, why your symptoms did not immediately trigger thoughts of a serious infection of COVID variety, which even this medic at thousands of miles distance would be alert to, begs the question of whether that is no longer considered a threat to wellbeing?
Meanwhile, dear blogpal, if you are still with these symptoms, at least consider finding your best local Ayurvedic doctor; a total picture will be taken, attention will be paid to every symptom! YAM xx
Yes, Yam, this thought did occur to me too. I must consult a good Ayurvedic doc tomorrow.
DeleteHope you're well and good. And be thankful to who (God almighty!) for escaping the hospital without getting subjected to an op and leaving a gadget trapped inside your body.
ReplyDeleteI'm improving, thank you.
DeleteHospital is a nightmare now. But can't manage without it too.