To my despair, his 10 mins got extended to more than an hour and all I was left with to do, is to struggle to get the respirator working, to get a ward boy to have the oxygen supply started, to fight for the cardiac equipment (fearing a cardiac arrest), to yell at the house keeping to have the area below my fathers bed cleaned (These guys have the nerve and the audacity to put a mosquito repellant, and that too tortoise, inside the ICCU, if you dare to complaint of pest problems, SO BEWARE) and get one junior doctor, to my fathers rescue, because all of them, including doctors, ward boys, nurses, attendants, were half asleep and were hardly knowing what and to whom they are talking (You can still witness all this drama, LIVE, if at all, you make it to the hospital, after midnight). When I finally managed, after lot of hue and ado, to grab one Jr.Doctor, to my surprise, I saw the great son of the Satan, Dr.Amol (imagine it took me almost an hour, to get one Jr.doctor to attend to my dad), storming in (as if he had been really valuing an emergency), screaming at the fellow doctors and trying to put up this excellent drama of preaching them their roles and responsibilities as a doctor. And eureka, everybody started working, just as you would witness, when a boss enters the office, and seemed to have multiple hands and excess energy, more than any human can possess. Not a single retina was bloodshot or had any signs of need for sleep or lethargy. MAN, it truly was a miracle. Analysis happened, and then I was informed by the doc, that the problem arose because my father’s lungs were filled with water leading to this breathlessness attack and the condition of his heart needs to be diagnosed. In such a situation , no matter rich or poor, the last thing that can ever come to ones mind would be the expense, no matter how big it could be, cos nothing could be more important than saving your loved ones, BUT WAIT, that’s exactly what the doctors know of, very well and leave no opportunity to exploit. There starts their BUSINESS. It is a typical filmy situation, where the doctor is the superstar and you are the audience. The Satan’s mind starts working and there, goes your peace of mind. All that they counsel is fear, making mistakes seem bigger than a sin, making a child feel miserable for not have taken care enough, of his parents (doesn’t matter, even if you are the most loving child, these guys still have the skill, to make you look like a culprit). The countdown begins, Medicines (List is bigger than the patients height and need – more than half goes wasted, but wait, that’s where the immortal bonding between the chemist and the hospital, comes to life. BARTER), Tests (Sonography, 3d Eco, ECG, EEG etc. – Scaring the patient enough, till he actually feels that, he better have been dead), Bribing the hospital staff (to ensure that your loved one is handled safely, respirator is checked and diagnosis is done, at regular intervals, doses are given on time and food served, is better than what the rats might be feasting on, in the pantry and not forgetting, your loved one breathes oxygen and not a mosquito repellent, a place where, if you are two, so, at least one sits and the other stands, believe me no pain seems bigger then), etc., etc., etc…….

Here comes the toughest part. Doctor’s and hospital charges, needs to be paid in advance, because these swine’s in the name of a noble and divine profession, feel that the patient and his kin would run away and not pay them the list of their dubious charges (LEECHES WOULD BE BETTER, AFTER SUCKING A STIPULATED AMOUNT OF BLOOD AND BLOATING, THEY FALL OFF. BUT THESE GUYS!!!!!!!). SO….. after all the satisfactory payment formalities (Because, today, in this profession, money is BIGGER than life), the doctor now started focusing on a strategy to maximize consistency of revenue inflow.) He declared my father’s state, as a critical case of cardiac arrest and a need for immediate operation. My father, however, on feeling a bit better, refrained from accepting this diagnosis and constantly insisted, that I shouldn’t rely on the scoundrel(s). But, blindfolded in his love and my need to see him recover and back to health, I defied his words and just took one extra move, the very next day, to move him to another hospital, on priority. The Doctor, tried to convince me hard, to step back from my decision, since, as per his notion, it would cause lots of inconvenience and stress to my dad, but I preferred being deaf and sticking to my guts and forced them to adhere and support my decision. My father was then moved to Rane Hospital, Pestom Sagar, Chembur. That is where, I took a sigh of relief, since I could see, an ICCU being an ICCU, and reasonable though not best, care provided to my father.

Contd in the last section....