Smoking room in the hospital

It happened when I was watching the oxygen meter panel in the wall: how the digits change as the seconds in the room. It shows other elements in the air as well. I start wondering what the world’s air meter would look like. For planet earth’s inhabitants and atmosphere…anyway..

This is third time that guy came up to me and asked if I do require blood or any other medical assistance(!?). And I had to get back to the reality… and politely had to ignore him after saying No in the first place.

Where am I again, outside the smoking area of a  hospital..

Its a few hours ago that I brought our building caretaker to the emergency ward. Some stomach problems and so on. Looks like he’s out of danger and under close monitoring but I had to spend the night there as a known person in case any further issue would arise..

Saw someone die in front of me; victim of some road accident and no one to comfort her at the final minutes!! A school teacher she was! See..? easily to divert her into past tense. I didn’t really know her but still…

So back to my mind of thoughts, I end up outside of the morgue while walking around. If you ask anyone to name of a happy place, I doubt anyone would mention the hospital (although it is!)! It’s a place for birth, cure & recovery even though it is the most grief stricken place for many, eh!

During my young years I hated the place for the smell and sad atmosphere all though through time I came back plenty of times for its services.

Once I had to stay in an Indian hospital waiting room for a few days due to a close relative’s by pass surgery.

I remember I was praying to all types of worships in that hospitals for her life and full recovery;

You hear people’s mind altering stories and all of  a sudden those people become so known to you..! People of so many various backgrounds, languages, cultures, religions and foods!

Yes food! I loved eating different types of ethnic food while there, eating with them like having a big family you  never had, although I hardly had any appetite. I also felt the care and love.

Any way back in the hospital area’s smoking room… spreading and recollecting my thoughts and energy.

Just now a young wife got admitted, fiercely beaten by her husband; that brain dead husband super glued her lips..!!! Even to stand there and hear the story made me feel ashamed of being a man….  Made me realize she will recover the outside burns and cuts… BUT what about the Scars and wounds in her MIND. How could she ever recover from those?!! Is there any super hero for that..??

An ugly fact is that in third world countries general hospitals are places of corruption! Expired drugs, illegal blood donations and what not… witnessing these things is a torture itself…

although I have a confession to make as well: When my patient needed some urgent blood tests, the lab guy told me that the report would take three hours but if I didn’t ask for the money receipt he would give it to me within an hour with a genuine test report.

So the deal was: no cash memo but quick services. I protested but took the deal..! For that I’m ashamed but it was a job that needed to be done and probably not the best time for a revolution. I guess you have to go along with the system in that very moment, not against it…

Its strange to see, some people making money from these dire situations. Some are on a very limited salary and do this to survive, some are just a link in the bigger system of corruption and the rest are just rotten..!!

Time clicking in the big wall clock..tik..tik..tik. distinctly separate from the first..!!

And why the hell is there a smoking room in the infirmary anyway?!! Some type of stress relief room ?

One of the best views is outside the new born baby room… So many new lives, crying out as they burst their presence into the world…!!

Where is the sound of crying/joy coming from in this late hours of the night? I stroll towards to the Neurosurgery Dept… A girl, age of 14 wakes up from a coma after one and a half year… Her mother wasn’t there but her father is present… and the sound of crying becomes melancholic…

And then there is the burn unit… Full of acid spill survivors. So many women there who were victims of abuse and torture…..ohhh.. made me sad, lost and angry and what not..I don’t know what to feel..really…

A person who puts his hand on women and kids must not be human… not even an animal… How do you punish them, teach them, stop making this happen..? What treatment do you give the victims or the patients to recover inside out for their next steps in life….??!

I guess this place gives you exercise of higher perspectives and makes you question your own self…


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