An incident in Delhi

Caught in delhi traffic, I had always wondered how emergency vehicles and ambulances ever made it to their destination. I was soon to find out first hand.

On Monday,the day I was to leave Delhi for the US, I had what the doctors politely called an "episode". It was four in the morning when I woke up suddenly, finding myself sweating profusely and generally very restless. So much so that the entire family gathered around with deep concern in their eyes. I had once had had such an episode a few years ago but then with the sheer drop in blood sugar had been sudden, that I had gone into a brief coma and remembered nothing of the furor it had caused. All I remembered when I came to was that I was lying on the ground beside my bed with three young interns watching me anxiuosly as the glucose coursed down my blood stream. Shibani was there along with her mother anxiously watching the proceedings. I was taken to the emergency room of a local hospital and was discharged within a few hours.

The tale in Delhi was a trifle different. There was one doctor who seemed to know what the problem was when he arrived. Also I was fully conscious though a little groggy, demanding "wheres my orange juice". The last time I remembered our house had only sugarless things- from pea nut butter to jam. So the demand for orange juice was well placed as my sister Rekha noted.

The immediate crisis over,the doctor insisted that I had to go the hospital for a more thorough checkup. So off we went in an indian ambulance- which was somewhat similar to the Chinese one I had used some eight years ago in Beijing. It was sparsely fitted and barely had enough room for the doctor, his intern and my wife. But more troubling was the fact that it could not find a quick way to the hospital. The ambulances, even with their flashing lights and blaring sirens could only crawl to the hospital. Indeed people casually walked by our ambulance-- yes it was that slow--peering in to see who it was who was in the bed. Another interesting thing was that there was no general 911 number like in the US, we could select the hospital whose emergency room we wanted to go to. So we had chosen Max clinic because it was the closest to where we were and also because it was the hospital I had been airlifted to from Beijing some eight years ago. It was lucky for us that we did because emergency rooms in Delhi are scarce and the early bird apparently gets the bed while others wait....

At the hospital, the interns were swift and efficient and I was soon made comfortable. Then began a long process of consultations among the gathered doctors. I remember reading a book " How doctors think" which said that most doctors diagnose the problem in the first few minutes and spend rest of the time finding corroborative evidence for that that diagnosis through a number of tests.

There was soon a parade of specialists who trooped in beside my bed. Each one looked at the medical records , examined me briefly and went on to write their diagnosis. As part of this protocol, one of them recommended an endoscopy. Now endoscopy is a nonsurgical procedure used to examine a person's digestive tract. Using an endoscope, a flexible tube with a light and camera attached to it, your doctor can view pictures of your digestive tract on a color TV monitor.During an upper endoscopy, an endoscope is easily passed through the mouth and throat and into the esophagus allowing the doctor to view the esophagus, stomach, and upper part of the small intestine. But it could often lead to complications and there seemed to be no particular symptom  justifying such a procedure. So to their consternation, I declined.

Of course this created a crisis of sorts when it became time to discharge me. Someone had to reconcile the conflicting diagnosis. As I became a trifle impatient at their request for more and more tests, I heard the word "lama" from one of the junior doctors. Lama I thought what had a lama to do with my condition. But actually that turned out to be the magic word. It meant " leaving against medical advice" thus absolving the hospital of any responsibility. 

I signed the lama and returned home. I am now back in my apartment in the US. But it was an experience indeed. And I learnt a great lesson that day which had nothing to do with hospitals, emergency rooms or doctors. I learnt that greater gift hath no man than one who has a loving family and friends. Cherish them dearly!