After 4 years

I was reading a book review from a  Neurosurgeon on NYTimes and it triggered my memory and the incidents associated with my surgery. Not being communicative with patients and their family is a big red-flag on both doctors and hospitals.

It feels impersonal and strange when a surgeon fails to have a candid conversation with the patient or hides his empathy. When I had my heart surgery, the surgeon hardly explained the reason and procedure, but since I was curious I read, watched medical videos and consulted friends in the medical fraternity to understand the procedure and associated risks involved in it. Sometimes I wonder what is going on in their heads that they fail to have important conversations with their patients that can only help build trust and confidence. Do they expect us to educate our self by querying Google and exchanging information in online forums. I was by myself during the two visits to the see the surgeon before the surgery and meticulously prepared questions to ask him before the visits.

On the day of the surgery, I was taken rolled into the theatre after a 6 hour delay. There was no information on the delay and when I went to the nurse station at end of the war they replied that they surgeons were on an emergency case. After two hours I complained that I was feeling hungry and thirsty and the nurse started me on drips so that I can no longer speak of hunger and thirst. At 2.30 pm I was finally rolled into the theatre, the doctors realized that the medical consent form was not signed and the risk/liability associated with the surgery was not waived (this was to be done the day before surgery).

While I was being prepared for the surgery, the staff went around looking for my family in the large hospital to get the waiver signed. Unable to spot them, a doctor friend who was with me posed as a family member and signed the waiver form. Though nothing happened to me in the end and I am surviving to write about, the entire arrangement seemed dodgy. My family was worried when they received no information about me even after 5 hours (surgery was supposed to last for 2.5 hours), the notice board in the waiting room displayed “surgery in progress”. None from the medical fraternity came to appraise my family on my condition and the anxious family had to rely and wait for the status change on the notice board. Is it a hospital or a train station?

A month after my surgery, I even went back to the hospital for a review and I carried with my gratitude in the form of a box of dry fruits and dark chocolates. I wanted to touch the hearts of men, who collectively touched my heart. The doctors were busy and the one who reviewed me said there was no need for me to visit them unless I had a problem. It is good to know that I am healthy and I need no medical supervision, but to be able to see the surgeon and thank him would have been fulfilling. I left a thank you note along with goodies in the cardiac ward. 

It has been 4 years since I had the surgery and I still see the scar on my left side every morning during shower, but I cannot remember the face of the surgeon and the team of doctors who assisted him. With corporate hospitals enforcing quotas on doctors, they have no time for building relationships and are forced look at patients as mere objects in an assembly line. Is it time for robots to work on humans and is it time for us tone down our gratitude towards the medical fraternity?