I usually write Hindi articles, but I recently received a heartfelt note from a grieving son, Shawn Kahlon, who happens to be a close friend of one of my near ones. After reading the note, I could not stop myself from publishing this eye-opening piece.
On the 6th day of his stay at the hospital, my dad said to me with folded hands: “Lagta hai upar jaana hai (I think my time is up).”
While writing this, I hate myself for not taking him out of the hospital that very day. He was right, they had some other plans. They say that “they [health professionals] are gods on earth”, but I doubt it.
My father, (retired) colonel JS Kahlon, got a mild fever in May 2021. He got better, but had some issues due to old age. Later, we found out that he had Corona, after he started showing symptoms.
For a few days, we gave him medication and glucose drips. He was quite dizzy for some days, but then started improving, even joked that he wanted to eat mangoes like Modi.
But one day, he fell on the floor, felt low the next day and when he got diarrhea post that, I decided to take him to “the gods” on earth, the doctors, on a paradise called hospital.
I took him to a big private hospital in Faridabad, where even after knowing that he was an ex-army man, they said: “No beds are available.” Then I called my family doctor. He used his sources and my dad was finally admitted.
But when I went inside the ICU, I could see four free beds, which was strange. Gods never lie, oh sorry, they say nothing at all. Well, I told the doctor-in-charge that I felt like my dad had post-Covid-19 symptoms.
After seven days, his reports came, They were okay, from his kidneys to his hemoglobin, all was good. Dad used to say, “Now take me home.” He was angry and didn’t talk to anyone in the hospital but me.
The neurology head said that, “I feel that its TB of the brain,” so medicines were being given. Well, doctors aren’t supposed to feel, but to diagnose, right?
It was fishy, to say the least. I could see the next day that my dad was not conscious. When I asked her, she said: “No, not because of the medicines.”
After another three days, when more reports came, the head of Neurology said: “It’s not TB so we are stopping the medicines and [we] will check if it is a viral infection of the brain, or not.”
But by then, my dad was already very low. Suddenly, I got a call from the hospital one morning telling me that my dad’s oxygen levels are falling miserably. I rushed to the sanatorium and the doctors were waiting for my permission to use the ventilator.
I realized that the air conditioner was not working and they had put a fan near my dad. I lost my temper and shouted, to which one doctor responded, “Unless you complaint strictly, things are not going improve here.”
They shifted my dad to the MICU, there I found out he had gotten bed sores. They started giving him medicines for a viral infection of the brain, and said that the culture test report takes time to arrive, as it is outsourced.
I could see dad getting terribly low with passing time. Even after five days, the culture report was not available. I thought of checking, so I went to the reports office and found out that the report had already come on the fourth day itself.
It was negative, but my dad was still being given strong medication for the disease he never had. Doctors, after they got caught red handed, especially the head of MICU, had nothing to say.
They just gave me a thumbs up with an embarrassed look, saying they are stopping the medicines.
After three days, they removed dad’s ventilator from his mouth and put a pipe in the neck area. He was breathing normally, the ventilator was just for backup, they said.
The next day, the head of Neurology said it seemed like my dad had contracted acinetobacteria, due to the ventilator. “It happens due to ventilators so we will give him medication.”
I could see my dad’s will power to get well. Every day, we used to say things to each other, back and forth. Dad got out of the ventilator for a few days. I decided to arrange for home care as even the doctor-in-charge of the case had started saying post-Covid-19 symptoms can be managed at home.
As my dad didn’t have TB and any viral infection of the brain, only a bacterial infection in his lungs needed to heal. Every other day, they use to say that the bacteria is reducing and then they would say that it is increasing.
Since home care was there, we were happy about the fact that dad will stay at home and the comfortable environment will make him feel better. But then, the doctors said that he had BP issues. “It is very low, let it get balanced.”
I told the doctor on Saturday that my dad had come to the hospital by walk. They had to tie his hands as he was super energetic. But now, he can’t lift a finger. His kidneys were fine. But now, they were saying too many medicines has affected them badly.
When I said that on the first night I brought dad to the hospital, I had clearly told the doctor to give him post-Covid-19 treatment, he looked at the first day’s report. I could feel the shock behind his mask, but he didn’t say a thing to me.
He just patted me on my back and walked away in shame.
Three days later, on a Tuesday, an embarassed doctor from the MICU of Metro Hospital, told me, “We are stuck in a drug mafia thing. We have to give the medicines. That’s it! I won’t utter a word more or else I will lose my job”
I had a chat with some of my neighbors about this and I got to know that all the doctors have monthly targets to fulfill, as if they are a sales employee, and not life savers.
Moreover, I also got the information that a few of the genuinely-good doctors had left the hospital a some years ago, when this marketeering started, because they didn’t think that it was the job of a doctor to worry about such things.
I was thinking that my dad will improve, so I didn’t take my mom to meet him, given that she is a heart patient and keeping Covid-19 safety measures in mind.
My dad’s proper, last words before the TB medicines were pumped into him for no reason, were on the 8th day. He said “mummy”, something he called his wife lovingly.
My parents didn’t meet each other for 33 days, and then his body came home.
A day before his 33rd day in the hospital, I was taking him home. But, they created this blood pressure panic and later in the night, my dad expired. They said he had a heart attack, which I never expected.
Firstly, why medicines were given for something which was not there. These medicines caused him to have to use a ventilator and then the bacteria thing struck. It was almost as if the doctors were confessing their evilness.
I also realized a few other things:
I hope not, but I feel it strongly, that the army’s facilities for taking care of its officers is becoming the road to the graveyard, when private hospitals misuse it for minting money at the cost of lives.
It’s high time we noticed this so that no life is lost, unlike what I experienced.
We didn’t tell dad that his elder brother had passed away on June 10, 2021, because we wanted him to get well first, but see the irony.
Surely the both of them have met in the astral world and are maybe having a gala time. In heaven, with the real gods, the gods on earth are not gods anymore. They are money-hungry hounds.