Abundant
respect for the ‘sisters’ in white of the Mumbai’s municipal hospital, the KEM.
Not a couple of them, not several graduate batches, but entire generations of
nurses there have earned an ‘unparalleled anywhere-in-the-world’ tag because of
the care they rendered on their comatose colleague, Aruna Shanbaug. For
forty-two years.
Like all
public/general hospitals in India where treatment is free, in overcrowded KEM patients
(many who’ve come from distant corners of India, suffering from dreaded
illnesses) share beds or sleep on ward floors whilst their visitors/relatives rest
in corridors/passages. Linen, when available, is discoloured and frayed, the
toilets wet and dirty. Appointments for tests are delayed, acquisition of
medicines requires running around, but those who’ve experienced the
professionalism of the hospital will vouch for its quality.
Medicines are
administered on time, wounds dressed and reports filed according to the
(brusque and overworked) scurrying ‘resident’ doctors’ orders. If there’s one
person the latter fear more than the consultants, it’s The Matron, a stern
disciplinarian who brooks no laxity in her ward. Under the watch of these (usually
sour-faced) proficient ‘madams’ are trained the backbone of any hospital: the
nurses.
Whilst India
had eight general elections, witnessed the Rath Yatra and its aftermath, whilst
Mumbai suffered riots in ’93, serial blasts, 26/11 and got itself a sea-link, through
Sharukh Khan’s rising career-graph and AR Rehman’s ‘Jai Ho’ becoming
internationally famous, whilst the Nano was introduced and the internet, cable
television and cellular phones changed our lives, whilst ‘Kargil’ was fought
and won, Aruna’s caretakers ensured she didn’t have a single bedsore, force-fed
her nutritious mush and convinced the Supreme Court of India that she did not
deserve euthanasia. Not a mean task. No one paid the nurses to do it. No one
would have taken them to task if they didn’t do it. Anonymously, sincerely and
unsung, they gave their hapless mate quality of care that has gone down as a
chapter in the annals of nursing history.
No private
hospital, however big, can deal with the logistics after serial bomb-blasts. Or
a flood/ earthquake/ epidemic/ war. Institutions like KEM gear up instantly to
give medical aid when needed. That’s expected. No extra points for that. Nor for bringing to life from the brink of
death bullet-riddled gangsters or those who drew their ire. What has earned KEM
the headlines this week is Aruna Shanbaug’s life. She died on 18 May. She had
been strangulated by a dog-chain in 1973 and a damaged brain left her blind and
in a vegetative state for so many, many years.
Four years
ago, around the time I returned to settle in the home of my ancestors, the
Supreme Court responded to a plea for euthanasia filed by a journalist. It set
up a three-member medical panel to examine her. It concluded that Aruna ‘met
most of the criteria of being in a permanent vegetative state’. A landmark
judgement followed: it allowed and laid out guidelines (withdrawing treatment/
food that would allow the patient to live) for passive euthanasia in India.
Through that legal battle, the doctors and nurses of KEM took up cudgels and
fought tooth and nail against the mercy killing. (Apparently, she used to show
some sign or ’response’ when she was fed mangoes and fish.)
Interestingly, when the Municipal Corporation
of Mumbai made two attempts to move Aruna outside the hospital to free the bed
she was occupying (after all, these beds are valuable for salvageable cases),
the nurses launched a protest in a show of precious solidarity and the
Corporation abandoned the plan.
A senior nurse at the hospital had said, "We
(had) to tend to her just like a small child at home. She only (kept) aging
like any of us, (did) not create any problems for us. We (took) turns looking
after her and we love(d) to care for her. How (could) anybody think of taking
her life?"
Whether patients like Aruna suffer is debatable.
Whether or not she was aware of her surroundings, her condition, or pain, is
unknown. When her own family had abandoned her, she was still lovingly tended
to by strange but caring hands. Her case proved that compassionate personalized
care is possible in public healthcare setting.
In the years that Aruna was in bed, totally
dependent on others, I finished school, college, got married, became a mother
and then an in-law. In those many years, half a lifetime, I’m surprised that no
one filed a PIL that a bed that could have saved perhaps several hundred lives,
was occupied by a patient whose outcome/prognosis was poor/nil.
Is it good that at times passion rules over
pragmatism? Is that what makes us ‘human’? Debatable.
In the meantime, my warmest regards to the
fraternity in white… it recently celebrated 12 May, Nurses’ Day.
PS: I wish the television channels would do their
homework. Being in a coma is not the same as being Brain Dead.
Feedback: sheelajaywant@yahoo.co.in
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