derick.in

If I can use one word to describe the quality of the health services in Mumbai, that would be pathetic. I was unlucky to fall ill for a weeks time, with very high fever. The experiences I had with the hospitals in Mumbai was awful. Let me describe the entire story.

I was taken to hospital at 6.00 AM on 29th May 2008, with very high fever and dizziness. Since the nearest hospital was a Municipal Hospital in Goregaon, I was taken there. The doctor, after some preliminary examinations told me that I could be affected with Malaria and was asked to get admitted. I was taken to the men’s ward. The sight I saw there was really heartbreaking. No one was there to attend, and all other patients were looking at the new admission in the zoo. My friends immediately took a discharge and took me to another nearby private Hospital.

The same things followed there also and they sent my blood for testing. They immediately started treatment for Malaria. They gave me some injections all over the body and started administering IV fluid. After sometime, I started shivering and suddenly they stopped IV and gave me some injections. All the injections were really paining. Even at this point I was unable to walk properly. They shifted me to a ward and when the chief doctor came, he told me that this could be viral fever and I was asked to take my X-ray report of my chest and sonogram of some internal organs like Pancreas, kidney etc. When I was taken to X-ray room, again dizziness came as a villain. We were told that the blood results would be available by 1.00 PM. We waited till 3.00 PM, still there was no response. Later after a lot of fight with the hospital officials, my friends managed to know that there is no facility for the blood test in that articular hospital and it is given to some other lab and hence the results are delayed. Then they said that the results of the tests are already shared with the doctor over phone and printed results would take two more hours to reach.

Finally, the results came. And malarial parasites were not present in blood. I asked them, why they are continuing with treatment for malaria? They said that my platelet’s count was low and hence they have to continue with the malaria treatment. My friend was told that there is an instruction from Health Ministry that someone with only high fever should be given Malarial treatment — No questions asked. Each time they took an injection, it was paining. The butterfly (vein flow) needle they have inserted in hand was giving me more problems and some how I managed to get around one night. The next day morning, my friends asked for a discharge, since no one was comfortable with the hospital environment. I was feeling better, but since I has my breakfast late – I vomited whatever I ate. After much drama, my friends managed to get me out of that hospital.

Next destination was a reputed hospital. Reputation comes at the expense of money and to help me out in this situation was there my mediclaim policy given by the company. I was feeling better, was staying in an Air Conditioned room and my friends were there. They continued the treatment for 5 days with some medicines and finally I am back home. But the nursing experience I had in this reputed hospital was terrific. I can not still stretch my hands. My hands were punched with needles not less than twelve times. Everyday, they had to change the butterfly needle on my hand. Only my last day was an exception. But still it pains. One fine morning, I was crying out of pain.

All these did not come for free. My hospital bill was Rs. 38k+. I could afford it only because I was having an insurance. And the final day, when hospital was trying to make my bill maximum, so that they can get maximum from insurance company. I am still not convinced that I am completely okay. The hospitals have treated all the physical symptoms. I could see some of the good, bad and ugly faces of medical care. My friends were all with me when I needed — the only thing I am proud of.

I conclude the post with a picture of my hand. The encircled portion is the mark of a butterfly needle injected in my hand four days back. I am sure about one thing – I would get better heath services back in my village in Kerala.