When Life is Not Valued...

I have been MIA for some time now and have been buzzing in the social media scenes on and off but not consistently. I have not been keeping too well, for quite some time. After a couple of wrong diagnoses, the doctor finally zeroed in on a case of Acute Cholecystitis. It is basically a case of an inflamed gall bladder which leads to complications of its own. 

Anyways, I was then rushed off to the hospital and underwent an emergency surgery post which I feel fine. 

It was not the surgery that scared me, it wasn't the incessant number of injections and IV flushing that pained me, but it was what happened during the very same time, at the same hospital which I had no clue about. 

January 18th, Thursday: I got discharged from the hospital yesterday. Today, while I was starting my day and eating breakfast at my desk while tapping away at the keyboard, my dad came into the room and asked me, "Did you notice all those cameras and media vans lined up outside the hospital yesterday when you were being discharged?" I nodded yes. He then said, when you went into surgery, there was a another guy who was lined up just ahead of you. He had met with an accident and was supposed to undergo surgery for multiple fractures on his left leg and a broken wrist. 

I felt my stomach churn because by then I knew whom he was talking about. I had seen the guy from my stretcher. I saw them talk to him while pulling his stretcher towards the operation theatre and ask him whether he had ever had a surgery before, to which he had replied in a very meek, tired, pained voice "No". I remember raising my head to see who it was and I saw him. He was the exact same person who was in the newspaper which my dad was holding in front of me. 

"He passed away on Tuesday night, of cardiac arrest," dad said. 

I was sitting in the same hospital watching TV and waiting for my discharge the next day. I saw the guy and I had even thought, "An accident case, he will be fine," just like I was wishing for the rest of the people around me in that OT waiting room. 

Now, there is a huge uproar in the city. Death due to negligence on part of the hospital. I am feeling anger of huge proportions. That negligence they are talking about, I understand, way too well. The hospital we are talking about is one of the most famed and prestigious ones in the city of Calcutta. It is premium, too. So, what happens when it comes to patient care. Thankfully, I was being operated by a surgeon who is God-like when it came to GI surgery and I felt safe under his care. But it was the post-operative care that I am talking about. 

I faced what I could nominate as the most incompetent staff ever, in the history of any reputed hospital. Clueless nurses, lack of resident doctors when required, nurses not reporting the patient condition to the consultant doctors, and the funniest thing - even after the dietician asks you a zillion times what you are allergic to, you will find yourself being served with the same food (that you are allergic to or shouldn't have post-surgery) for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

When I would ask the nurse which medicines are they giving me at what time, they would make the silliest faces ever. They did not even pronounce the medicines properly let alone tell an antibiotic from an antacid. I took charge of my own medical chart and ensured I was given the right medicine at the right time. 

This brings me to think. We put our entire faith in the medical system. We believe that they know best and will help us get rid of our ailments. Is that really true? If this is the real condition, wouldn't it be just better that we knew for ourselves what medicines we should and shouldn't take, instead of believing these caregivers, completely. 

I am not saying that all of them are the same, as I had had really good experience in another hospital in the same city. But as a general rule of thumb, we need to be more present to our own health condition, because there is a huge chance that nobody really cares (third party) if we live or die. 

The man who "succumbed to his accident injuries" as per the hospital, seemed to have been completely normal even in the evening, hours before he passed away. What happened in between. I am thinking, was it wrong medication? The nurses did not even know what medicines they were giving me. Was it the food? They gave me some killer combination of food that is a strict no for patients who have had a GI surgery. 

The man was just 34 years old, survived by his wife and twins who are 7 months old. It breaks my heart to read about him. But I can't help myself. I saw him just before he was rolled into the OT and I had heard his voice. 

My request: please be aware of what your body can handle and what it can't. Which medicines are given to you and when, and also the logical sequencing of the medicines. With food, before food, etc. Take care, all of you. May God bless you all with good health and life.