I see a lot of first world people complaining about their health care system and about how long they have to wait till their doctors see them. *cough (entitled) cough* What amazes me is that someone finds a reason to complain inspite of having hospitals with sparkly floors with their shiny steel instruments and electronic charts and the (expensive) miracle that is the da Vinci surgical robot. So naturally first world med students have no idea what we go through in da hood.
Third world countries are said to be colourful and lively. More so if you’re in India. We have our gutkha chewing Mukeshs’ (Sorry bro) who very artistically paint our walls red, and the famous couple Munna and Shalini who very considerately scribble their names enclosed in a heart on every tree, brick and train window. And we have our excellent ‘Health Care for None’ policy which very vehemently supports going to ‘Brindavan Bone-Setting Centar’ if you are ever faced with the misfortune of a comminuted femoral shaft fracture. So cool when the guy setting your bone in place tells you about the amazing healing power of Tulsi leaves and shit no?
I don’t know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Health Care for None, but I do know what it is to work in a hospital where we body surf atop patients who just want to get some gul-cose. So while I know I’m complaining about a hospital that’s over 150 years old (and crumbling). I am fully aware that I will always find a corner painted red at every turn with chewing tobacco and I will always have to stand in the NICU full of wailing babies with no AC, heck with no fans even. I will even have to step on someones urine/spit/sputum while walking up the stairs to get screamed at by my attending because he’s having a hard day dealing with 20 medical students staring at his balding head in his royal cabin.
But I know I will be out of the hospital Hunger Games in another two years, so I intend to paint a (not so) pretty picture for all the underclassmen after me and I in turn get a free venting session for no reform measures in return. It’s a win-win. While this being a product of my borderline obsessive-compulsiveness, it’s also going to be an eye opener to that puddle of urine in the middle of the surgical ward. Watch out!
1. Everyone might not know this, but our (government) hospitals are practically petting zoos.
Have you ever been to a petting zoo? You know the place where they charge you to pet and feed animals and immediately makes you feel like you’re an animal person?
Hospitals in the third world have an added bonus of being breeding grounds for many generations of dogs, cats and even pigeons. The animals even establish territorial authority, because I see the alpha male dog always sitting on a bed reserved for a patient in the ward.
Hey you want some free Rabies with that atypical pneumonia? C’mon don’t say no. It’s as easy as drinking a glass of water. *wink*
2. After dodging a dog and a few kittens, you’ll need to know how to navigate the hospital. Here’s a basic navigation plan for our hospital :
You enter the main door, feeling happy about not stepping in pigeon poop which carpets the walk from the parking space to the entrance.
Quickly dodge patient #1 and #2 when they ask you why they aren’t getting any gul-cose (glucose) . Leap out of the sea of family of patients because all they want to know is why your eyeliner is so perfect and not their son’s lungs.
Good, you’re safe for now. But don’t ever let your guard down. You almost stepped on that gauze soaked in pus. Whew. No thanks, MRSA.
Assess your patient’s condition from 10 feet away. If he’s very sick and the nurses haven’t gotten around to giving him his meds yet, you’ll be drenched in bilious vomiting (No bed pans because we’re ghetto like that). And you’ll be forever waiting for the day when Alexander McQueen makes gowns in ‘bile vomit yellow’ to justify all your clothes being permanently stained.
3. If you have your paeds rotation avoid going to the paeds hospital at all. If you’re a paeds resident, quit your job. If you’re a paeds attending, seriously, why are your life choices completely mental?
Those kids are never EVER well behaved. They kick and scream every time they see someone in a white coat because they think everyone is out to poke and prod them with injections. Most of the kids I saw shut up only when their parents gave them money. Actual money. They’re so fucking gangsta, I can’t even.
4. There are a million dialects and at least 5,000 languages you need to be fluent in. Because people from every region here say things differently.
As soon as you learn how to say ‘jumma’ for Friday, your other patient can’t wait because ‘doctor eda undu’. (Where the fuck is the doctor)
So you end up not knowing any one language perfectly and sadly you sound like a dyslexic 5 year old.
But unlike the other doctors, I’ve learnt to say “Arey hato amma” (step aside, fresh meat coming through) pretty well.
5. You finally get to class at 1pm, prime sun-blazing time. So your perfect mascara is runny and your hair decides to stick to your face.
Everyone around the world has AC classrooms, but we have a huge gallery, low lit for weird classmates to catcall and boys and girls to look at each other amorously like its one huge mating ritual.
Half of the time there’s no electricity and the other half of the time one half of the fans don’t work.
So imagine paying attention in class when it’s 40 degrees inside (actually only 27 outside. It’s hot inside because everyone is on heat.)
6. You have a 640 slice CT, we have an X-ray
What’s your complaint? Doesn’t matter, order an X-ray.
Sorry but you have an aortic dissection. Yo did you get an X-ray though?
7. If you’re the patient, then God help you.
Apart from being the patient and getting treated at the hospital, you have to run around to get tests done. AND collect the reports from the respective departments.
At the end of a patients hospital stay he becomes a habitual multitasker and he will be able to recite his own history, because no electronic charts remember?
8. We take PDA to the next level, I mean to the hospital.
Everyone drinks fevicol as an attempt to prove to their parents that their love is eternal.
a) Fevicol won’t kill them.
b) Fuck you arranged marriage I want a Taj Mahal too.
9. My damn phone doesn’t have 4G like the rest of the world.
So imagine trying to frantically search the internet on your phone ON 2G for the answer to “what’s the second decimal point in the T3 level in Sub-clinical Hyperthyroidism” in my practical exam.
10. Here’s everything else that irritates me :
Someone always borrows your steth.
Most girls wear the most disgusting maternity gown-ish things instead of scrubs. Idk I think they think it’s the closest thing to a saree or whatever.
Most boys think making eyes at patients is okay. Wtf, no!
Why are all the nurses so mean? Or is it just a 3rd world problem?
TB patients make it a point to cough on you. Have to keep the XDR alive and teeming no?
(My friend thinks I talk about TB too much but it’s only because TB is the boss and I’m secretly scared I have it)
I’m on vacation right now so I’m enjoying the lack of TB patients around me and everyone asking me to pull out their IV line so they can leave AMA.
I wish the residents would stop hitting on the undergrads because I personally don’t want to get married in Shilparamam brother, chill.
The floors are never clean.
We have surgical spirit instead of hand sanitiser. That shit smells so malignant, like it might melt your hands off.
Derm rotations are a joy because there’s a 9 in 10 chance you’ll get taenia.
I hope you’re reading this using your 4G data in your air conditioned galleries while your professor glares at you over his teak wood desk while talking about the expensive miracle that is the da Vinci surgical bot.
That’s all from the ghetto. Peace.
humerushumorous 