In my two years of being a doctor, situations have arisen when I’ve felt frustrated with the tedious nature of our systems, angry at the selfish demands and desires of care-takers and care-givers respectively, and irritated at how naïve we are as a nation when it comes to pointing out problems and solving them — but I’ve never felt deceived by those for whom we sleep on broken sofas with our lights on — till this evening.
We have this patient who is recovering from a major surgery that he had to undergo for his cancer. The patient had been under my supervision during a couple of shifts over the last week, and I found him and his son very cooperative in telling me of his problems and letting me examine the patient. They also did not forget to tell me how he was feeling better with every passing day. It was like an unseen bond, and as I listened with amazement at how he was managing to pray five times a day with this large bandage on his belly and several tubes connected to different parts of his body, I tried to visualize myself in that situation and prayed to God that I be spared that kind of a test.
Seven days after operation and into the final stage of post-operative recovery, today we thought it was time to call an oncologist to see the patient. The patient’s consultant, who ranks among the pioneers of colorectal surgery in Bangladesh, suggested the names of four such specialists, and asked the patient’s relatives to let him know when they’ve made their choice.
Later in the evening, they told me that they’ve talked with the Consultant and have decided upon an oncologist from LabAid, and asked me to ensure the consultation as early as possible. So saying, two of them kept lingering at our Doctors’ Station on the 6th Floor, their body language saying, “NOW!”
So I laid aside every other thing and picked up the phone, “PABX, can you get me to Prof Moharraf Hossain, please?”
PABX : Sorry Sir, we don’t have his phone number.
Me : OK get me to Hospital Services Manager. Perhaps he’d know.
When I told the Hospital Services Manager about my need, he simply said, “I’m out of office; talk to my Asst Manager” and hung up.
The Asst Manager, when contacted, told me, “I don’t have his number either, and he doesn’t receive direct calls. You’d have to call LabAid’s public number and take their help.”
Back to square one, I asked to be connected to LabAid. After crossing three PABX operators of Popular and LabAid and stating my identity and intention to each of them, I was at last talking to the man sitting just outside Prof Moharraf’s office, but he seemed to be as far out of our reach as ever. “This phone is outside the Professor’s office – rather write down his mobile number, 011 . . .”
Before I could say that there had been a couple of times when Prof Moharraf did not answer external phones, the guy had already disconnected. Luckily, the phone was picked up on our very first attempt, but the Professor said that his schedule was too packed and asked me to get back to him in two days’ time.
“The Consultant has given four names, so why not try Prof Qamruzzaman, or Anisur Rahman for that matter?” the patient’s relatives standing in front of me said.
“OK.”
As I tried to make the contacts, I learned that Prof Qamruzzaman would not visit patients outside Square, and neither our PABX nor our Hospital Services or Customer Service could recognise the name Anisur Rahman as an oncologist. Tired after a long day of work and irritated at the happenings of the last half an hour, I had not yet put the phone down when the relatives said, “You’re not out of options yet – the Consultant also said the name Shahida Parvin.”
“Hmm yes, that he did.”
After repeating the whole tardy sequence of convincing four phone operators with my identity and intention, I was at last able to confirm a visit by Dr Shahida Parvin from Medinova.
The eyes that were looking at me as I put down the phone and sat back in my chair this time were not of the patient’s relatives but of Prof Zahidul Haq. “Tell me about the patients,” he said.
“Well, Sir, this patient has been seen by vascular surgeon Prof Nurul Alam as you asked, and thrombolytic treatment will have to be started according to the protocol he’s given. And I’ve talked to Prof Moharraf Hossain, but he can’t see the patient within the next few days, so I’ve asked Dr Shahida Parvin, who will come tomorrow night.”
“Why? Why Shahida Parvin? Whom did you ask before making that decision?”
“The patient’s relatives told me that you’ve suggested her.”
“But did you ask me? Why didn’t you? Do you think she’s good enough for such a critical patient?”
“I know, Sir, that Prof Moharraf would be the best option, but since they were asking for an oncology consultation within tomorrow . . .”
“These are inexcusable mistakes,” he said and walked away.
As I shrugged and looked at the patient’s relative, now standing a few yards away, he was already on the phone. “This doctor is such a callous one. Uncle is in such critical stage of health with such a serious cancer, and he’s called a relatively young and inexperienced specialist. Were it not for the Professor’s sudden visit, we’d have been fools big time . . . ”
Jatir bibeker kache proshno (my question to the nation) : Is it not time for me to join the fray of those doctors whose foremost behaviour when they see a patient is to get rid of his companions and to tacitly ignore queries and requests? I could save a lot of time and energy that way.
Before any of you can answer, a part of my subconscious mind is already saying no. It’s reminding me of some ayats that were revealed at the battle of Uhud, where Hamza (may Allah be pleased with him), uncle of the Prophet (peace & blessings be upon him) was not only killed but his dead body mutilated, too.
Enraged, the Prophet said, “In the next battle that we win, we’ll do the same to 30 of them.” Pin-drop silence prevailed at the battlefield, with no protest from even the enemy front, for everyone understood the gravity of the “war crime” that had been committed.
It was in this atmosphere that Allah sent down Archangel Jibreel with the last ayats of Surah Nahl, verses that still soothe the hearts of millions of Muslims facing distress every hour, “. . . if you are patient, that would be better for those who have hitherto been patient. So be patient, for your patience is for naught but the sake of Allah . . .” (16:123-125).
After receiving these verses, Prophet Muhammad denounced the call he made in anger. After remembering these verses, I’ve denounced my call to keep patients and their companions at a distance.
We have this patient who is recovering from a major surgery that he had to undergo for his cancer. The patient had been under my supervision during a couple of shifts over the last week, and I found him and his son very cooperative in telling me of his problems and letting me examine the patient. They also did not forget to tell me how he was feeling better with every passing day. It was like an unseen bond, and as I listened with amazement at how he was managing to pray five times a day with this large bandage on his belly and several tubes connected to different parts of his body, I tried to visualize myself in that situation and prayed to God that I be spared that kind of a test.
Seven days after operation and into the final stage of post-operative recovery, today we thought it was time to call an oncologist to see the patient. The patient’s consultant, who ranks among the pioneers of colorectal surgery in Bangladesh, suggested the names of four such specialists, and asked the patient’s relatives to let him know when they’ve made their choice.
Later in the evening, they told me that they’ve talked with the Consultant and have decided upon an oncologist from LabAid, and asked me to ensure the consultation as early as possible. So saying, two of them kept lingering at our Doctors’ Station on the 6th Floor, their body language saying, “NOW!”
So I laid aside every other thing and picked up the phone, “PABX, can you get me to Prof Moharraf Hossain, please?”
PABX : Sorry Sir, we don’t have his phone number.
Me : OK get me to Hospital Services Manager. Perhaps he’d know.
When I told the Hospital Services Manager about my need, he simply said, “I’m out of office; talk to my Asst Manager” and hung up.
The Asst Manager, when contacted, told me, “I don’t have his number either, and he doesn’t receive direct calls. You’d have to call LabAid’s public number and take their help.”
Back to square one, I asked to be connected to LabAid. After crossing three PABX operators of Popular and LabAid and stating my identity and intention to each of them, I was at last talking to the man sitting just outside Prof Moharraf’s office, but he seemed to be as far out of our reach as ever. “This phone is outside the Professor’s office – rather write down his mobile number, 011 . . .”
Before I could say that there had been a couple of times when Prof Moharraf did not answer external phones, the guy had already disconnected. Luckily, the phone was picked up on our very first attempt, but the Professor said that his schedule was too packed and asked me to get back to him in two days’ time.
“The Consultant has given four names, so why not try Prof Qamruzzaman, or Anisur Rahman for that matter?” the patient’s relatives standing in front of me said.
“OK.”
As I tried to make the contacts, I learned that Prof Qamruzzaman would not visit patients outside Square, and neither our PABX nor our Hospital Services or Customer Service could recognise the name Anisur Rahman as an oncologist. Tired after a long day of work and irritated at the happenings of the last half an hour, I had not yet put the phone down when the relatives said, “You’re not out of options yet – the Consultant also said the name Shahida Parvin.”
“Hmm yes, that he did.”
After repeating the whole tardy sequence of convincing four phone operators with my identity and intention, I was at last able to confirm a visit by Dr Shahida Parvin from Medinova.
The eyes that were looking at me as I put down the phone and sat back in my chair this time were not of the patient’s relatives but of Prof Zahidul Haq. “Tell me about the patients,” he said.
“Well, Sir, this patient has been seen by vascular surgeon Prof Nurul Alam as you asked, and thrombolytic treatment will have to be started according to the protocol he’s given. And I’ve talked to Prof Moharraf Hossain, but he can’t see the patient within the next few days, so I’ve asked Dr Shahida Parvin, who will come tomorrow night.”
“Why? Why Shahida Parvin? Whom did you ask before making that decision?”
“The patient’s relatives told me that you’ve suggested her.”
“But did you ask me? Why didn’t you? Do you think she’s good enough for such a critical patient?”
“I know, Sir, that Prof Moharraf would be the best option, but since they were asking for an oncology consultation within tomorrow . . .”
“These are inexcusable mistakes,” he said and walked away.
As I shrugged and looked at the patient’s relative, now standing a few yards away, he was already on the phone. “This doctor is such a callous one. Uncle is in such critical stage of health with such a serious cancer, and he’s called a relatively young and inexperienced specialist. Were it not for the Professor’s sudden visit, we’d have been fools big time . . . ”
Jatir bibeker kache proshno (my question to the nation) : Is it not time for me to join the fray of those doctors whose foremost behaviour when they see a patient is to get rid of his companions and to tacitly ignore queries and requests? I could save a lot of time and energy that way.
Before any of you can answer, a part of my subconscious mind is already saying no. It’s reminding me of some ayats that were revealed at the battle of Uhud, where Hamza (may Allah be pleased with him), uncle of the Prophet (peace & blessings be upon him) was not only killed but his dead body mutilated, too.
Enraged, the Prophet said, “In the next battle that we win, we’ll do the same to 30 of them.” Pin-drop silence prevailed at the battlefield, with no protest from even the enemy front, for everyone understood the gravity of the “war crime” that had been committed.
It was in this atmosphere that Allah sent down Archangel Jibreel with the last ayats of Surah Nahl, verses that still soothe the hearts of millions of Muslims facing distress every hour, “. . . if you are patient, that would be better for those who have hitherto been patient. So be patient, for your patience is for naught but the sake of Allah . . .” (16:123-125).
After receiving these verses, Prophet Muhammad denounced the call he made in anger. After remembering these verses, I’ve denounced my call to keep patients and their companions at a distance.
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