wife (Monica) to a hospital in an emergency. Complaining of severe abdomen pain
and unable to even breathe, I rushed her to one of the best hospitals,
Indraprastha Apollo in New Delhi. The hospital is not only closer to home but I
had also experienced the quality of treatment earlier when we visited some
doctors for routine health checks.
hr emergency facilities capable of treating any kind of emergency. I don’t even
know what type of emergencies there could be. Driving into the main gate, the
emergency unit is just to the right. A guard comes over, I request for a wheel
chair. Within seconds there is a wheel chair and my wife is taken in, and made
to lie down on a bed. Doctor attends, inquires, investigates and suggests some quick
remedies to nurse. If I recollect right, there were around 3 people from the
hospital attending Monica. I waited with my two daughters, younger one being
carried by me and elder one holding my hand tightly, nervous and worrying for
X-ray, ultrasound, and injects pain killer into the saline that rushed into her
blood as if flood waters were released to an otherwise dehydrated, de-energized
body. Things seemed to be under control after 30 minutes. Nurse politely
requests me to make payment at the counter, for blood test and X-ray. Doctor on
duty, calls up his colleague may be a more senior doctor; he interrogates Monica
about her situation and then prefers to restrict the tests to X-ray and blood
test. He decides to defer the ultrasound.
expected my wife to leave. As per them she was fit enough to be discharged.
With every 30 min a new emergency coming-in (high or low), they had limitations
of bed. These are harsh realities of life in a country like India where good
health services are scarce.
seemed to be reducing by every hour. May be 3 bottles of saline already
injected into her body gave her more courage to go back home. Also may be like
every mother, she prioritized convenience and comfort of her family over her own
on packed juices and muffins bought from hospital canteens. I consider myself very
fortunate when I realized that my younger one (1.5 years old) had learnt to sip
using a straw just 2 days back. It seemed God had timed if perfectly for her.
day, with a name of doctor specified. We could not get him on Saturday (Aug 28
2010). But we tried for appointment with others. I called-up customer care, finding only one
doctor in Gastroenterology department with available slots. The website of the hospital
lists availability slots of the doctors over the next week.
calls me in and suggests re-admission for Monica in emergency for investigating
the reason for pain. He was clear in his mind that the ache was not related to
gastro problem. Surprise, worry and panic were the ` 6temotions within me. I was surprised since I never expected
doctors at emergency a day before, failing to diagnose the correct cause of
pain. I worried for Monica, kids and money. Did I have enough in my bank
hard for a bed. Be patient and something will be worked out by 8 pm in the
evening.” It was 2.5 hours to 8 pm. Monica like a visitor comforted herself at
the chairs outside the emergency. Meantime I made calls to my parents briefing
about the situation and telling them to plan to come to Delhi. Doctor himself
visits the emergency and helps Monica get a narrow bed (more of a stretcher
with wheeled legs). Treatment starts. With both kids bothering me and elder kid
crying as she had not wanted to re-visit the hospital. Her questions- Do we
need to stay in hospital even today; when will mummy be fine? ; What happened
to her? ; What will I eat? ; Where will I sleep? She cried to be home as soon
our 11th marriage anniversary and we had never expected to be in
hospital. By evening of August 29 2010, I had no idea of what the treatment was
being done. What I could only sense was Monica’s condition deteriorating with
every passing hour. However, ensuring her more comfort and with my parents already
in Delhi, I decided to take them home. At least Monica will get some sleep.
to rush to hospital as Monica had to be operated due to severe internal
bleeding. Monica called us twice while I somehow drove through Delhi’s traffic
to reach the hospital. I had a sense of urgency but could not drive fast, could
not walk fast. Reaching the hospital, Monica was almost readied for the surgery
was being taken to operation theatre. I could only give her a thumbs-up sign
and then was lost into signing some green colour papers with some text printed on
them. The font size at that instant seemed to be smaller than the font size
used by credit card companies. Some words into my ears on the situation being
critical, anything can happen, we will take care, do not worry, just sign etc.
etc. only made me to panic even more. Call from billing counter to deposit
money fast as he was receiving confirmation calls of payment from operation theatre.
cars but do not sign at so many places as when we sign in times of emergency at
hospitals. I am very sure of this unless proved otherwise. Operation lasted for
3 hours and every minute of it was like an hour with ears goaled on
announcement for attendants of Monica. Prayed to our sarkar, committed him
visits, wished a visit to Golden temple, promises, threats, requests, pleads to
almighty to save Monica. My friend, Pushpal in the meantime got some news from
operation theatre. I remember him saying, “Called a phone no. in operation
theatre, the operation is almost over and patient is fine is what they say”.
“Oh! My god thanks a lot, aapka karam hain sarkar” is what I said within and
with that came the tears rushing out of my eyes. I failed to realize that I was
also a father, a son and cried with my kids around. Pushpal in his typical
style, scolded me for being soft and emotional. Somehow I just regained the
strength and waited to hear the call of Doctor.
condition. By god’s grace she is back and will now be fine soon.” Situation had
become tense late that night when blood pressure of Monica was dipping. Being
shifted to ICU, she gradually with every passing hour recovered while I was at
home dealing with weaning problem of my younger daughter. Despite my mother and
mother-in-law being around, she cried for me and asked for her mother. After
long hours of consoling I managed to get her some sleep. She cried in sleep as
with me and recovering faster and stronger despite the complication of
thrombosis because of which is injected twice a day.
Thanks Monica and Thanks God.