What kind of place doesn’t tell you in advance that you cannot meet the patient
for the first 4 days after their admission! …
“because it may affect them badly. In the first four days they miss home the
most and each time they meet you they will feel sad and want to return with
you…” the nurse had said.
“Okay”, she said– “but will you at least tell my mother that I am right outside
and I want to be with her but the hospital rules do not allow it? “
And the nurse had smiled and replied politely but firmly “No. Most patients
cannot handle being told that they will not meet family members. One more
thing – weekdays there are fixed visiting hours and on weekends because the
doctor does not consult you cannot meet the patient. You need to have taken his
prior written approval to meet her on the weekends”.
She could not believe it. She was furious. She had only 4 days of leave left. This
would mean she spends the next 4 days wondering how her mother was and
then she would have just enough time for a quick meeting, a hug and a
goodbye.
She looked at her father for some support – someone to echo her “This is
ridiculous”. Instead she found herself staring at a very lost, very fragile and very
old man who looked like the last 5 hours had added 10 years to his age.
Would her mother ever forgive her this betrayal? Because betrayal it was. Her
mother had walked in expecting consultation, the doctor had instead smiled and
told her mother politely that she would need to be admitted and that was that.
If that was not bad enough, he had looked her (not her father) squarely in the
eyes and said – “I think this is required and will be for the best”, making it clear
to her mother that her beloved daughter was the one who had made the request
for admission in the hospital.
And yet somewhere she did believe it was the right thing to do – perhaps the
only thing to do. She believed good would come of it – partly because logically it
made sense that expert care would result in good but also because any other
outcome was too unbearable to think of.
As she ate her lunch at the hospital cafeteria she thought back to the Friday
morning she had come home. By evening she had already broached the subject
about the hospital more than once and each time the discussion had ended in
bitter fights. She would drop it knowing that very quickly she would need to
broach it again later. On Sunday her mother agreed to go the hospital – just like
that. She agreed to have some clothes packed ‘just in case’. Her mother agreed
… to everything. She wasn’t even listening. She didn’t think she needed to – she
would come to the hospital only because her daughter has asked her to. And
that is why this was a betrayal.
Through the car journey her mother had spoken innocently about the rains in
Kerala, the price of fish – always holding her hand or reaching for her hand –
never once suspecting that this visit would last anything more than a couple of
hours.
The thought made her eyes well with tears. She longed to share her grief with
her father but thought that she was hurting would hurt him more. Best not to
look up now and swallow her tears.
When she finally did look up – she saw her father crying silently in to his plate.
She held his hand wanting to say something smart very kind. But her very
articulate self had exhausted itself – there was nothing left to say.
She would take appa and find a good guesthouse for them to live in. As they
walked out, she looked up to the floors above hoping to catch a glimpse of
amma. No luck.
for the first 4 days after their admission! …
“because it may affect them badly. In the first four days they miss home the
most and each time they meet you they will feel sad and want to return with
you…” the nurse had said.
“Okay”, she said– “but will you at least tell my mother that I am right outside
and I want to be with her but the hospital rules do not allow it? “
And the nurse had smiled and replied politely but firmly “No. Most patients
cannot handle being told that they will not meet family members. One more
thing – weekdays there are fixed visiting hours and on weekends because the
doctor does not consult you cannot meet the patient. You need to have taken his
prior written approval to meet her on the weekends”.
She could not believe it. She was furious. She had only 4 days of leave left. This
would mean she spends the next 4 days wondering how her mother was and
then she would have just enough time for a quick meeting, a hug and a
goodbye.
She looked at her father for some support – someone to echo her “This is
ridiculous”. Instead she found herself staring at a very lost, very fragile and very
old man who looked like the last 5 hours had added 10 years to his age.
Would her mother ever forgive her this betrayal? Because betrayal it was. Her
mother had walked in expecting consultation, the doctor had instead smiled and
told her mother politely that she would need to be admitted and that was that.
If that was not bad enough, he had looked her (not her father) squarely in the
eyes and said – “I think this is required and will be for the best”, making it clear
to her mother that her beloved daughter was the one who had made the request
for admission in the hospital.
And yet somewhere she did believe it was the right thing to do – perhaps the
only thing to do. She believed good would come of it – partly because logically it
made sense that expert care would result in good but also because any other
outcome was too unbearable to think of.
As she ate her lunch at the hospital cafeteria she thought back to the Friday
morning she had come home. By evening she had already broached the subject
about the hospital more than once and each time the discussion had ended in
bitter fights. She would drop it knowing that very quickly she would need to
broach it again later. On Sunday her mother agreed to go the hospital – just like
that. She agreed to have some clothes packed ‘just in case’. Her mother agreed
… to everything. She wasn’t even listening. She didn’t think she needed to – she
would come to the hospital only because her daughter has asked her to. And
that is why this was a betrayal.
Through the car journey her mother had spoken innocently about the rains in
Kerala, the price of fish – always holding her hand or reaching for her hand –
never once suspecting that this visit would last anything more than a couple of
hours.
The thought made her eyes well with tears. She longed to share her grief with
her father but thought that she was hurting would hurt him more. Best not to
look up now and swallow her tears.
When she finally did look up – she saw her father crying silently in to his plate.
She held his hand wanting to say something smart very kind. But her very
articulate self had exhausted itself – there was nothing left to say.
She would take appa and find a good guesthouse for them to live in. As they
walked out, she looked up to the floors above hoping to catch a glimpse of
amma. No luck.
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