TRAUMATIC

Life is very short. One single incident or a series of unforeseen incidents can make it worse. So worse that it won’t give us even the time to blink an eye of ours. Never in my life, have I felt so helpless. But I was deeply moved when I moved into a Trauma ward of a famous hospital in Mumbai. The patient in question is a young lad not older than 25 years of age. Even though I don’t know him very closely or dearly, I felt it my responsibility to pay him a visit. I was a bit shaken on hearing that he was admitted in a government hospital and was operated, attended and cared for there.

I was prepared for the worst. I have never been abroad and neither do I see myself doing so in the next two years. But if I go, I really would like to understand how the governmental health institutions out there function. Are they in a plight of misfortune like that of our government run hospitals or they are far better than the one’s we manage to survive out here in India?

Focusing back to the patient admitted in one of the well known government run hospitals in Mumbai, I was in for a shock. The first thing that amused me was the lack of security issues. I entered the hospital from the exit or the wrong gate that too unchecked. It didn’t make any difference though because neither entry nor exit was written on the gate. On my shoulders, I was carrying a huge backpack which comprised my laptop, my portfolio and other important stuff that are required to keep me in motion. No one cared to even ask what I was carrying with me within. What was more surprising was to find a police van being parked in the premises and the cops taking no notice of me walking straight inside. This brings into light one heinous fact that Mumbai is still vulnerable to terrorist attacks. And yes, our security concerns are like toy stories.

On walking in, I headed for the trauma ward. The details provided on the board were hardly understandable. More than written, I would term it as scribbled. Names were spelt erroneously. Condition of the patient was beyond imagination to draw a conclusion. Not able to properly locate the patient’s name, I was looking for I headed a little deeper into the hospital. There was no one except some odd people waiting and squatting with their buddies or whoever that was. I found a small window open. As I peeked through it, I found a woman sitting with a magazine in her hand and headphones tucked deep into her ear listening to music played to her by her Nokia XpressMusic 5310. I politely called her as Madam. I did it twice. On understanding that either she was lost in music or just in a mood to ignore me, I banged on the wooden table placed in front of her. She leapt like she suddenly spotted a tiger. Irritated and frustrated before she could satisfy my query, she looked at her watch and only then made up her mind to present me with a reply. I politely asked her about if there was any other trauma ward apart from the one I had visited. Puzzled to the core, she first seemed to have suddenly gone blank. Finally she sprung back to life talking to me in a high tone and telling me that there was only one and why the hell was I bothering her? I apologised and cursing her from within, I went back to the trauma ward I was trying to locate the patient at. I failed once again. Finally I looked out of the door and saw his parents seated under a shade provided by some kind politician or industrialist for relatives and well wishers of those admitted inside.

The patient’s father led me to just the entrance of the ward. Being a highly sensitive ward, we were supposed to not enter it. Before I could react, the door opened and a dead body was pulled out like a fly is thrown out of a tea. The floor inside was red with blood. The moment the body reached the corridor, an elderly woman screamed out and I was deafened more by her pain rather than her voice of grief. I just caught a glimpse of the young patient who was now in a state of coma.

The patient’s parents gave me an account of what had led to the young lad’s admittance to this deathbed. It seems he is a fresh victim of flouting unmanned traffic rules. He was part of the three friend battalion riding on a bike at a speed of 70 km/hr on a rainy night. Rumours suggest they were drunk after a hard night of partying. Let me be specific, rumours suggest that they were drunk. Gossips suggest that they were just racing. Being a rainy night, the roads had turned slippery. After getting to a connecting bridge, the bike suddenly skidded off. All three of them fell of. The one who was driving got away with minor scratches. The third sitting on the rearmost position had to sacrifice with 2 of his left leg fingers and 1 of his right leg fingers. The second person who was sitting in the middle who happens to be our neighbour’s son and the patient in coma was badly hit. He fell while in motion and his head banged straight into the divider. Within seconds, the skull was left open. Blood oozed out and he slipped into a state of unconsciousness. In the dead of night, he was transported from the site of accident to this horrendous site of struggle.

From within, I was shaken about the patient’s war with life and death. And on the other hand I was very angry looking at the plight of the hospital. I felt even if little hope is left for a patient to survive, the deteriorating reputation of this hospital would definitely shatter every single ray of hope. I was seeing patients with saline needles on their forearms running behind doctors. I was seeing women with tears in their eyes running behind ward boys. And I was seeing one after the other patient brought in some strange, serious and most injuriously critical conditions. There were my patient’s parents who seemed to be equipped enough to make a choice between the dying and the dead. I consoled them and advised them to be strong. The patient’s father told me how everything within the hospital is connected. Nothing seems to function smoothly in here. Either palms are to be greased or tough contacts are to be used to make your case rolled ahead.

As I prepared to leave the premise, I saw some guys and girls maybe in their 20s jumping traffic in front of the hospital. The cops seem to be more interested in the revealing outfits of the strange girls rather than in performing their duties. I missed a heartbeat when I saw them cross the road and escape being hit by the running vehicles. One of the girls’s even dared to exclaim, “It went so closely, I thought it had almost touched me. But anything for a pizza date!” I was stunned but could do very less. Their fate hung between the raging road, the frightening footpath and the traumatic place called Government Hospital.

I left with a heavy heart, looking up to the sky and praying to God for a miracle. I wish the prayer gets answered. If not a miracle at least the plight of government hospitals get a little better to help people live a little better life. I have nothing against the doctors because to me they seemed like a group of astronauts who were warming up there to take a leap into the sector of private practicing.

Certainly traumatic but not laughable at all! The pain I felt most was of the bleeding hearts of the parents of the lad who was admitted in that rotten government run hospital!

- vociferous