My patient was my 86-year-old father hospitalised for the first time in his life.
It was an assembly of the anxious. Daughters and sons, mothers and fathers -- all packed into a small waiting room, past the Emergency on the ground floor corridor of the hospital.
The 24-odd steel chairs were most-coveted, if you got up, someone else would quickly grab the seat. One had to remain seated the entire night or spread a shawl to capture a chair.
People in varying degrees of anxiety were huddled together trying to keep themselves warm from the drought of cold air, some were lying down on blankets, cardboard or newspapers on the cold floor. Every now and then, the silence of the night broken by announcements summoning attendants to the ICU or CCU.
A sense of relief would descend upon those whose patient's names were not called out as relatives of the less fortunate made their way up to the door of the ICU on the first floor.
Everyone kept to themselves, and tried to catch some sleep overcome by fatigue of body and mind. Some had been there for several nights in the hope that their loved ones would recover.
The two plug points were always plugged in with mobile phones being charged. Some listened to songs before falling asleep. At 10.30 a guard came around making sure not more than two attendants per ICU patient were inside the waiting room. They checked the tokens issued to the attendants and asked the extras to leave. Miscreants were known to spend the night here and steal from people catching a shut eye, and the night check was to prevent such incidences.
Past midnight a chai-boy entered with a can of tea and tiny paper cups. In moments of weakness or strength, a cup of tea has never failed to comfort. People sipped the tea drawing from the warmth of the cup around their fingers in the hope that the doctor's round in the morning would bring better news.
Dawn broke and the cleaning staff arrived with their brooms, ensuring that all those asleep on the floor got up and gathered their temporary beddings. Those sleeping on cardboard and newspapers folded them and kept it in a secret corner of their own for use in the night again. The only toilet in the corner of the waiting room remained busy with people carrying out the morning ablutions.
A fresh batch of people arrived, many of them women, to relieve those who had done the night duty of attending to critical loved ones.
They came in with change of clothing, bed sheets, pillows, food and water.
At 7 am, the security guard outside the ICU allowed one person to briefly check in on their patients.
My patient was my 86-year-old father hospitalised for the first time in his life.
He had a restless night with tubes and electrodes fastened to his frail body, but the nursing assistant said his vitals were stable.
That afternoon, he was shifted to a room.
The night had been long, but the morning had brought hope.
Feature Presentation: Aslam Hunani/Rediff.com
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