On hospitals…

A lot has happened in my little boring unhappening life lately, to the point I haven’t had the time to put pen to paper to jot down the riot of thoughts that run amok through my head…

I will however, for today, start with my unforgettable experience in a government hospital. You see, the unfortunate ailment that afflicted my dear sis and I, required hospitalization on the pain of death. We took it upon ourselves to find a relatively comfortable private joint to take us in, but none were to be had. We were turned away at several private hospitals, offered instead to come in twice a day so that the vampires that live off dengue patients could do their damned work and we would be sent home…

The next day, with insanely indescribable pain wracking my joints, we decided that we’ve had enough, and got ourselves checked into a government hospital. At the moment, we thought it would be a good decision, as it was purpotedly one of the best medical establishments in the country. Fair enough, we were first checked into the private wing where the amenities were pretty good, and the nurses pleasant.

A day later though, as my condition deteriorated, I was moved out of the private wing, and on to the public wards with the masses. Perhaps I am a certified brat, but I certainly did not fare well in the general wards. The noises and smells and the incessant beeping only served to drive my blood pressure ever higher, the situation they were trying to remedy in the first place.

And the doctors, ohh the doctors! They treat people like cattle! To the point I had to sit up, and tell them “Hello, I am here wide awake, and I do understand you. Don’t treat me like a stupid imbecile. I want to know what you’re treating me for, how you’re treating me for it, and what the risks are. Do not think you can do what you wish to me. I will be the decision-maker here. It is my life you are gambling with. Do not think you are so smart to get away with the medical gibberish. I understand your acronyms and your big words. Again, I am not stupid. Is that clear?”

And they turned to look at me in utter amazement, that this woman who is sickly with messy hair, four IV lines poking out and in a hospital ‘outfit’ would dare to talk to them in such a disdainful manner… Aren’t we doctors masters of the universe? Poobah!

Suffice to say, I checked myself out the first chance I got. And thank the Heaven’s above I survived my ordeal. All I can say is, they should be treating people better than they do now. And not behave as if they were God playing with the lives of people as they feel like it.

I can only imagine the amount of confusion and fear an ordinary person would feel, one who does not speak English, or understand medical gibberish, or isn’t assertive enough to make their voices heard across the cacophony of their huge egos…

Doctors, please, I beseech you to listen to your patients. You do not know them half as well as they know themselves. Why not use the local knowledge to make your treatment work better? Why not make them involved, and hence empower them to improve their lives? I remind you again, you are not God, and we are not your playthings…

Perhaps it was a good thing after all I didn’t get into med school – Jasmine.


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