Conversations and Stories from My Latest Visits to The hospital
Extraordinary People. Extraordinary moments
Beep, beep, beep. Ting, ting.
I kept hearing this pattern. Over and over again. Along with other noises that evoked my hearing sense, of course. There was a random TV going on in the background, sounds of people chit-chatting, a baby bawling its eyes out, a fan droning on & on, and amidst all this, an eerie silence.
Hospitals are complicated. It’s a place of birth and death — intense emotions of happiness and sorrow. No other location can beat this emotionally charged environment, other than places of worship, probably.
The past couple of weeks have been quite traumatic and draining. With my 80-year-old grandfather admitted to the hospital ICU for the past 14 days, the whole family went through intense physical and emotional stress. He passed away last week.
But this piece is not about my family or me.
It’s about the people that helped us throughout the journey. Made our experience better even in traumatic times. It’s about the doctors, nurses, helpers, and cleaners working in the hospital. For whom we’ll always be grateful.
My mother and I entered the ICU ward at 7 am to visit my grandfather. As I looked around, I witnessed the tired faces of nurses and workers working round the clock with their long 12 hour shifts, getting ready to prep the next batch of workers on the statuses of all the patients. They looked drained, ready to fall on the bed, fast asleep.
But amidst all that, they kept up their sharp attention and bestowed me with a broad smile as soon as we entered.
I also caught some of them running around — helping the patients, cleaning their bedsheets, feeding their morning milk, checking their vitals…the job never seemed to get over. Combine the family members who wanted to push through (metaphorically) the ICU doors to enter when they got the chance, ushering us out in two minutes; I’m sure they dealt with a handful every day.
Every single day.
The cleaning lady gave me a tired smile and asked me whether I had breakfast as we got out. It struck me that she asked me about my well-being in a world where we don’t even bother to glance at others. Probably that’s how small-town people are, and I have become too involved in myself to notice things around me.
After this, I made it a point to know about them wherever possible. Know small tidbits of their life, make them smile, and make them feel human instead of just identifying them with their jobs. I started with the aunty serving food.
She was a bright one.
I started with a small compliment about how good the food was (it was!). And that compliment led to a 10-minute conversation! She mentioned how they work ten-hour shifts in the hospital, about her family, her two young sons, and her poverty, all with a twinkle in her eye.
On the way down (we walked together), she mentioned how one more woman was working another shift who looked exactly like her. Apparently, people used to call them sisters, and the only difference was a small mole on their faces. We had a good laugh:)
I spoke to another nurse who started talking about how she did not want to stay in the hostel and was thus traveling for an hour every day to stay with her mother. And another cleaning lady who had night shifts at the hospital.
It just hit me then. How much humans long to be heard by others. They don’t need a response; they only need to be listened to. One smile. One small conversation. One small help is enough to bring immense joy into their entire day.
I know how much the nurses in the hospital took care of my bed-ridden grandfather; the dedication they worked with was extraordinary. They often went above and beyond their job titles, taking care of the patients like family.
And it’s high time we started treating them like one too.
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