It is standard practice in India hospitals for each patient to have an "attendant" (usually a family member, but of course could be a private nurse) stay there all the time. It is assumed that each patient has an attendant to help a bit, translate, get nurses' attention, etc. When we checked in, they gave us an attendant (24-hour) pass and a visitor pass. Security guards at various points were reasonably meticulous with checking passes. Our semi-private room had two hospital beds, typical setup, plus two pull-out chair-beds...as they would say in India, chair-cum-bed. Each night, a guy would come around and hand me a set of bedsheets and a pillow. It was surprisingly comfortable, if a bit hard (very thin foam pads).
When we first arrived, a 69-year-old lady was in the neighboring bed, barely conscious, with some breathing difficulty. Her son and grandson took turns staying with her -- she talked only a bit that first night, and not at all thereafter. I chatted with grandson Hrithik a bit. Her condition declined, so that on the third evening, she was moved to ICU. Her bed was empty. The nurse suggested that I sleep in that bed. Much more comfortable!
About an hour later, at midnight, we are awakened by a young child's voice. A 6-year-old patient walks in -- he had been in the pediatric ward (near our room), discharged, but returned complaining of mysterious pain. He and his parents are Afghani, now living in Delhi. I heard them speaking in some Persian-sounding language; and the father looks like Mahmoud Ahmedinejad – they were indeed speaking Dari, which is related to Persian. But they knew no English. In the family connection, Dari is the regional language of Mazar-E-Sharif, where brother-in-law Rick is helping translate maintenance manuals and uniform procedures from American English into Dari.
Back to attendant-ship: on this ward, I did not have to do much work – the nurses were reasonably present and usually helpful. Barb’s previous experience, on a bigger ward, made much more use of the attendants, as there were fewer nurses there. (And, to our regret, she had no attendant there.) Although this time, ironically, when I took leave for an hour or two of errands and internet-blogging, was when the nurses descended for this needle or that sample or this pill or that drink. Also, the hospital offers special “attendant food” (i.e. room service), distinct from the hospital fare – this was very nice, good food, reasonably priced…charged to the bill, not covered by insurance, but irrelevant as none of this bill is covered by insurance.
Labels: hospital delhi
