Column

There are so many worlds different from the world we know, and yet we live blissfully unaware of them, unless fate decides to push us into a strange new orbit.

A few days ago I ended up spending a morning waiting in the corridors of a hospital.
I had to consult a doctor over a minor problem, and then another for a specialist’s opinion. I could have come back another day, as I had no appointment with the specialist, but decided that getting it done was better than going back and forth.

It was an hour that showed me a microcosm of life that lies beyond the ordinary.

Patients walked in, with relatives in tow, some came alone, others too ill to walk, were wheeled around in wheelchairs. The OPD was bustling with comings and goings, but everything seemed to be streamlined and without the confusion that goes with waiting one’s turn.

A friend worked at the hospital, and when I messaged her that I was in the corridor, she came down to meet me.

Sorry, she said, breathless from the rush, but I could not come earlier. There was a spate of emergencies.

I told her I understood, and she smiled. But her eyes were occupied with what she had just experienced.

I looked at her questioningly, despite my desire to respect her privacy.

I think she needed to get the weight off her chest. A boy came in this morning for an operation, she said, her eyes seeing it, rather than looking at me.

He came to the hospital because he had a cough, and investigation revealed that he had this huge mass on his sternum. The mother was weeping so much, she said, I was with her, telling her it would be all right.

The mass was being removed, and would be sent for a biopsy, to make sure it was just a benign tumour. And if it was not benign, the entire rigmarole of chemotherapy and cancer treatments would have to begin.

It was a dismal thought, and for a mother, impossible to handle.

Then there was the second case, of a woman who had only one lung, and was now on a ventilator because the other had failed too. I was counselling the husband… he could not afford the cost of keeping her in hospital, and yet he could not bring himself to let her go… it is a tough choice, she said.

So much happens that we cannot even imagine; people face troubles that we shudder to think could be ours.

I could see the depth of her empathy and compassion. Her hours in the hospital must take a lot out of her physically and emotionally, but she has to, at the end of her working day, put everything away, and become mother, wife and home manager for the rest of the 24 hours.

I wondered how someone exposed to unbearable cases like this day after day, could manage to hold on to her equanimity. Being able to deliver medical help as well as emotional support was a not a task for ordinary mortals.

So much goes on here that one cannot even guess at, I murmured.

That is true, she said, it is a different world inside these institutions, and this is only one of the thousands. Imagine the number of people who need medical aid and are suffering from some illness or the other. We take health for granted, she said, till something hits us.

I really think that all children should be made to visit hospitals while in school, she said.
In fact, schools take children to factories and malls, a visit to the hospital will let them understand what happens if they don’t take care of their health. School is the time to inculcate respect for one’s body, they won’t abuse it then with crash diets, and harmful activities when they grow older.

I frowned at the thought of a crocodile of children wandering seriously through the wards, where sick children or older people lay coughing, moaning or strung to tubes.
But there is something in the idea, if carried out after some thought. We do tend to believe our bodies are incapable of being harmed, whatever we do, and a peep into the other side of the probability, and an explanation of how the sick need to be treated, how care can help will prevent so much neglect, fear and abuse in the future.

My friend rushed back to her duties, and I left the place, a bit more aware that this too was a world that had enough drama in it to put all our sitcoms to shame.

Email: ssaran@dnaindia.net