Imagine a man with Tracheostomy done (in simple words, the wind pipe is removed), a tube inserted in his throat enabling him to breathe. He is desperately trying to ask for information and all he can get out is whistling sounds. His illiterate wife trying even harder to converse in rural Telugu and I am not able to understand. They gesticulate frantically and finally, we figure out. They just needed a pass to stay at the Dharmasala provided by a Rajasthani charitable institution!
Imagine a 25 year old "Ghorib" guy from "Rural" Bengal who comes accompanied by 3 "neighbours." The neighbour says, family income is Rs. 800, the father is sick, mother takes care of him and younger brother has just passed the 5th grade. The 25 year old himself is a rickshaw puller and makes next to nothing. They need "Free" treatment. The "rickshaw puller" is wearing a digital watch! Can a rickshaw puller, with a family of four, earning 800Rs. per month afford a digital watch? And, can you imagine where 3 neighbours care so much to bring one guy (earning so little) to a hospital thousands of kilometers away!
Imagine a 12 year old kid, looking far younger than her age, with no cheer in her face, sitting quietly next to her father. She suffers from leukemia. They wait for an hour patiently for the ward assistant to give them news. Bad news is what they get. There is no bed free in the 423-bed hospital to accomodate this little child today. They are told to come and try again the next day. The child holds on to her dad's hand and walks gingerly - her hip contorted to one side and pain writ all over the face.
Imagine a bubbly, round faced lady who comes to the Public Relations counter, shoves the results from the bunch of tests she had undertaken that day and asks what she should do. She is politely told to come back the next day as the doc's time is over. She looks at us in the counter and looks above. She gives a wry smile, her face betraying fear mixed with hope and says, "Tomorrow will decide my fate." Lets out a long sigh and walks on.
Imagine a long hall with huge rows of steel racks with piles of papers - no different than what you would find in a Government office anywhere in India. 7 people (men and women) scurry about pulling out from 114,000 patient records (all patients who ever visited the hospital from 1954) kept in those racks. These are pulled out every morning as patients pour into the hospital and filed back after the doctors have seen them and advised patients.They are pulled out in the afternoons for doctors for their research work. There are racks brutally labelled - breast, cervix, lymphoma, vulva, lung blah blah blah. Every part of the body except hair, nails and teeth is represented. Imagine feeling lost and vulnerable walking amidst those racks.
Imagine a 70+ year old, short lady carrying the burden of running this venerable institution on her frail shoulders. She is Dr. Shanta, a Magsaysay award winner. She is worried - about the number of people she needs to cure or help, the lack of funds to get the systems and processes in place, the support that she needs to get the place going, the "poor" patients who lie through their teeth to get cheap/free treatment, while robbing the real poor of the scarce resources, lack of volunteers who will fill in wherever the institute is short of staffing (most volunteers want to interact with patients only and don't care for back office work) and about where to place me and what work to get done out of me!
I started work at the hospital on Wednesday. After an hour spent with Dr. Shanta, I returned on Thursday and Friday to orient myself through various departments. There are challenges - very interesting challenges. All involve people - the patients, whether genuinely poor or rich, are all suffering. Those who accompany them have their own agonies. The volunteers who have to wade through the bureaucracy, commit time amidst other personal pressures and do a professional job. The staff who have to carry on despite the meagre salaries a charitable institution can pay. The doctors who are overwhelmed by patients who look on them as "Gods walking on earth." A worried Dr. Shanta who has to get this rundown machine to chug along, despite its flaws, as it always has.
And, finally me. I am trying to keep my emotions aside and keep talking to myself. Don't look at the patients and feel sorry. Give hope. Don't get emotionally involved at the kids you see there. This is a flawed world. Mankind is as ravaged outside this institution as it is inside. Keep the balance. Don't get frustrated too soon and too easy as usual. Watch out for that little opportunity where I can or atleast hope to make a difference. There is lot of work to do. Find the energy and courage to keep going.
In 20 minutes, I will be at the hospital again... I really am looking forward to it.
Monday, December 8, 2008
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