Report of 13 Jan '13
Good morning!
It is cool and sunny - perfect. Our clothes are drying on the balcony, one young man is asleep, one is in college, a husband is travelling as I write. The power will go in 20 minutes and I am scrambling to finish.
Kovalam has been good. The usual frenetic clinic. The person who was told to come to the Government Hospital (GH) by the cardiologists had a cardiac cath done, where the doctors look to see if there is any block in the arteries providing blood to the heart; there was no block in this patient and thus, no need for surgery. He returned a happy man. I had told one of the other patients, a very poor person who kept coming with complaints of itching, that he had to be seen by a specialist; after not going for weeks, he finally went - halleluia. He returned and said that the specialist told him he must get the meds at the Banyan (where we provide them for free) - likely an outright lie. We stock the meds we can, and the patients get seen by other docs and then come to the B to try and fill the outside prescriptions, which we do not permit.
The sense of entitlement of the poor here is just as much as elsewhere. Free meds, free care, free concern are not enough - some have even asked for bus fare to go to the specialist. As I have not received my salary for 2 months, it becomes very easy for me to handle such enquiries. I am also perilously near menopause, so am constantly irritable. Again, this makes it easy for me to answer such questions - "The answer is No, and if you don't like it, feel free to find a similar organisation elsewhere and frequent it."
We lost another patient last week in Adaikalam. The official diagnosis was TB (tuberculosis), but on looking over the file, I saw that the patient had winced when the med students were doing a breast exam. I think she had breast cancer, and was slowly wilting. There is absolutely no way for me to get a post-mortem (the request has to be accompanied by a police report, casting blame either on the hospital or ourselves, so we don't pursue it), so have to guess at the cause of death. I was very pleased at the Texas students' thorough exam. My nurse colleague, Adhi, and I talked of Ms. R's death, looking at the file and almost bawling; a wife, mother and good person had died, her family likely had no clue where she was and that she had died, we mourned her more than anyone else did. It was a tough loss. As Adhi and I said, we are aging, our hair is grey, I now wear glasses and we deal with the loss of one among those who are with us and grow old with us. I touched Ms. R's photo in her file, almost willing her back to life. She had married, and likely had kids, and had loved them. Mental illness hit, forcing her to a place far away (her name ended with "Kaur" - a Sikh name); we treated her and fed and clothed her, and without fail, loved her until she died. Even after.
This is the joy of working at the B. That every patient is important. This was revealed even more at the "Death Audit," where a team investigates issues surrounding the death and if it can be avoided in subsequent patients, seeking to learn valuable lessons. I sat in awe at the discussion generated by the social workers and psychologists and nurses and Vandana, who is unfailingly a joy to be around.
A team appointed by one of our funders to see about assessing the funders' involvement visited us and interacted with us. They were grand fun and it did not seem like any sort of scrutiny. Again, the insight of these folks was enriching and I enjoyed the meetings.
Scott and I hung out some, through my bout of food poisoning and that was nice; Scott is big salve. Naren, he and I played Scrabble yesterday, bringing back great memories of Friday nights when Game Night ruled at the Weisses'. Navin and we Skyped last night and that was also fun. My friend, Pushkala, had me over for lunch yesterday to meet up with a common friend, Medha, who now works with the Gates Foundation. Medha is a visionary and bright lady who has worked to prevent trafficking of women in North India; most people work in rehab of those rescued from trafficking. It was a splendid time talking with Pushkala, Medha and Pushkala's mother, whom I love dearly. It is nice to hang out with like-minded people.
Hope you have such joys, also!
Unw -
R
It is cool and sunny - perfect. Our clothes are drying on the balcony, one young man is asleep, one is in college, a husband is travelling as I write. The power will go in 20 minutes and I am scrambling to finish.
Kovalam has been good. The usual frenetic clinic. The person who was told to come to the Government Hospital (GH) by the cardiologists had a cardiac cath done, where the doctors look to see if there is any block in the arteries providing blood to the heart; there was no block in this patient and thus, no need for surgery. He returned a happy man. I had told one of the other patients, a very poor person who kept coming with complaints of itching, that he had to be seen by a specialist; after not going for weeks, he finally went - halleluia. He returned and said that the specialist told him he must get the meds at the Banyan (where we provide them for free) - likely an outright lie. We stock the meds we can, and the patients get seen by other docs and then come to the B to try and fill the outside prescriptions, which we do not permit.
The sense of entitlement of the poor here is just as much as elsewhere. Free meds, free care, free concern are not enough - some have even asked for bus fare to go to the specialist. As I have not received my salary for 2 months, it becomes very easy for me to handle such enquiries. I am also perilously near menopause, so am constantly irritable. Again, this makes it easy for me to answer such questions - "The answer is No, and if you don't like it, feel free to find a similar organisation elsewhere and frequent it."
We lost another patient last week in Adaikalam. The official diagnosis was TB (tuberculosis), but on looking over the file, I saw that the patient had winced when the med students were doing a breast exam. I think she had breast cancer, and was slowly wilting. There is absolutely no way for me to get a post-mortem (the request has to be accompanied by a police report, casting blame either on the hospital or ourselves, so we don't pursue it), so have to guess at the cause of death. I was very pleased at the Texas students' thorough exam. My nurse colleague, Adhi, and I talked of Ms. R's death, looking at the file and almost bawling; a wife, mother and good person had died, her family likely had no clue where she was and that she had died, we mourned her more than anyone else did. It was a tough loss. As Adhi and I said, we are aging, our hair is grey, I now wear glasses and we deal with the loss of one among those who are with us and grow old with us. I touched Ms. R's photo in her file, almost willing her back to life. She had married, and likely had kids, and had loved them. Mental illness hit, forcing her to a place far away (her name ended with "Kaur" - a Sikh name); we treated her and fed and clothed her, and without fail, loved her until she died. Even after.
This is the joy of working at the B. That every patient is important. This was revealed even more at the "Death Audit," where a team investigates issues surrounding the death and if it can be avoided in subsequent patients, seeking to learn valuable lessons. I sat in awe at the discussion generated by the social workers and psychologists and nurses and Vandana, who is unfailingly a joy to be around.
A team appointed by one of our funders to see about assessing the funders' involvement visited us and interacted with us. They were grand fun and it did not seem like any sort of scrutiny. Again, the insight of these folks was enriching and I enjoyed the meetings.
Scott and I hung out some, through my bout of food poisoning and that was nice; Scott is big salve. Naren, he and I played Scrabble yesterday, bringing back great memories of Friday nights when Game Night ruled at the Weisses'. Navin and we Skyped last night and that was also fun. My friend, Pushkala, had me over for lunch yesterday to meet up with a common friend, Medha, who now works with the Gates Foundation. Medha is a visionary and bright lady who has worked to prevent trafficking of women in North India; most people work in rehab of those rescued from trafficking. It was a splendid time talking with Pushkala, Medha and Pushkala's mother, whom I love dearly. It is nice to hang out with like-minded people.
Hope you have such joys, also!
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
8:28 PM
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