The place where I work right now has a tie-up kinda thing with some African countries I hear. And maybe some countries in the gulf too. Really sick patients from their countries are brought here,in India to this hospital for ICU care. One such emaciated patient-he's just bones and skin now-is lying in one of the beds with a ventilator since 3 months. He's a Tanzanian national. My first hand experience of African poverty and destitution. I hear from the consultants that they don't have ICUs in their countries-the rich go to UK and such countries for required medical care.
Anyways, this blog is not about him but another little girl lying in another bed unconscious and intubated. All of just 12 years old,she had some kind of bad reaction to an anesthetic drug given to her during a procedure-is what was the preliminary assumption as diagnosis. And so her airways narrowed and she struggled to breathe in air-an act that we all don't even notice but do every second of our lives. 'Fortunately',there are machines and technology and she is revived and intubated to help her breathe,and I hope she does get better but by God, it wrings your heart to see that kid lay there all sedated, struggling from time to time to cough, hands tied to the bed-soft restraints we call 'em- to prevent her disturbing the position of her endotracheal tube. Just 12 years of age, black girl from Oman, with Afro hair in an alien country, not knowing any faces in her room, taking care of her,not understanding the language. That is a life that, with so many thoughts and ideas in her brain-so many more to take birth over the course of her life-all, right now kept alive by the ventilator. It really makes you question the logic of everything that is in existence. Made me even question God for a fleeting fraction of a second.
It got worse. She started coughing while the tube was being suctioned and the tube came out and she had to be re-intubated. This was her third intubation apparently. After settling down,later she briefly opened her eyes and wow, it felt so bad imagining how clueless and helpless she might have felt. I just consoled her back to sleep and tried to instruct her not to struggle out of the restraints. God knows how much she understood-but she did go back to sleep.
Like in my Slumdog Millionaire article, this is one another situation where the very very inconvenient question of 'why' can arise-why should she suffer like this, with no proper answer. Or just another frustrating self-loathing,self-pitying denouncement of the human race, but the world goes on. And to think,she will be called the lucky one to have got here and got access to the best available treatment. It sucks. Countless must be dying in poor nations while we read regularly of druglords and warlords use all the money for fighting and weaponry.
I am just looking for someone to talk me into finding joy and motivation at little victories like these than to be dejected by thinking of the ones left behind,cos it's quite difficult to be keeping it up by myself. I know such strong people exist and I hope to 'intellectualize' myself and be a positive force against this overwhelming negative force in this world.
I was excited about writing about starting work after a long time;the first duty day passed by with a couple of intubations, and I was lazy as usual to write,but this one was something I couldn't let pass so easily. Pray, the girl recovers completely to a healthy, hearty and full life.
