It was late in the evening when someone took notice of the patient. It was difficult to ascertain if the patient was dead, alive or in the twilight zone. The pulse was weak, blood pressure almost non-existent. Clearly, it was an emergency, the type that called for a steady supply of oxygen for the patient and a mask and rubber gloves for the nurse, all of which were not available in this hospital. It was one of those hospitals where the doctor steps out for a smoke and never returns and the nurses are too busy playing cards.
“Where should I put this patient?” a male nurse, who was close to ending his shift and was visibly irritated, screamed. Nobody answered. “Looks like an ICU case to me, but we could put the patient in a private room or the general ward,” the male nurse said.
“Does the patient have medical insurance?” screamed a doctor.
“How should I know?” replied the male nurse.
“In that case keep the patient in the corridor. I’ll take a look after Diwali,” said the doctor.
The male nurse did not react. It was routine for doctors, especially Dr Francis to neglect this particular patient. Three and half years had passed since the patient first arrived. He was quite healthy then, thanks to the hard work put in by the earlier doctor, a chap called Dr Vishwajit. But in the hands of Dr Francis, the fellow had deteriorated and was no perched on the edge.
“I think he is dead,” yelled the male nurse in the hope of getting Dr Francis’ attention.
“Send him to the morgue then,” shouted Dr Francis, “I have other things to do right now.”
Dr Francis would make routine attempts to revive the patient, who seemed keen on being revived, but never made a full recovery because Dr Francis always left the job half done. This left the patient floating somewhere between hell and an alternate universe. His family, which comprised some 15 lakh members, according to the 2011 census, had put their faith in Dr Parsekar in 2012 and now in Dr Francis and would wait till 2017 before taking a final decision.”
The patient was wheeled into the morgue, a place that reeked of formaldehyde and death. It was the last port of call for hopeless cases and in was into this atmosphere that the patient arrived. The patient was taken to a room, sufficiently clean for the business of autopsies.
“Another open and shut case,” the male nurse yelled.
Dr Parsekar examined the patient, prodding here and there with his index finger. “Okay, lets open this one and figure out why death chose to visit this patient,” said Dr Parsekar, who was also in charge of the hospital. “Does the patient have a name?” he asked.
The male nurse grabbed the file, opened it and turned a few pages. “This one goes by the name GUMIS,” the male nurse said.
“What does it mean?” asked Dr Parsekar.
“The full name of this patient is Goa Universal Medical Insurance Scheme,” said the male nurse, “GUMIS went into a coma sometime after 2012 when one Dr Manohar was in charge of the hospital. The patient has been here for the last three and half years under Dr Francis’ care and he failed to revive GUMIS.”
“So, he’s not dead,” said Dr Parsekar with a tinge of disappointment over having being robbed of another opportunity to dig for evidence of death.
“That would depend on where you are standing,” said the male nurse, “from where I am standing he looks quite dead.”
Dr Parsekar picked up a scalpel. “Are you going to say one, two, three …. or should I?” he asked the male nurse.
Just then the phone rang. The male nurse picked up the receiver. “It’s Dr Francis. He wants to re-examine GUMIS. He is bringing the whole committee with him.”
“We will revive GUMIS in three months,” asserted Dr Francis.
“You said that three months ago. Now you want another three months. Why three months? Why not six months?” asked Dr Parsekar.
“I can’t work if I don’t have a target,” said Dr Francis.
“You have been saying that for the past one year,” said Dr Parsekar.
“Really? How time flies,” said Dr Francis. “You had two-and-a-half years to revive him and you failed. Don’t blame me.”
“I can’t wait here till 2017,” said the male nurse. “What should I do with GUMIS?”
“Sweep him under the carpet,” said Dr Francis. “We’ll take a look after three months.”
