I have never felt as privileged in life as I did on Monday last week. That morning, my 21 year-old-nephew had his leg run over by a car after the boda boda he was riding on put him in harm’s way.
He ended up at a hospital casualty ward. I went to see him but saw more than I had ever given real thought to. About 15-20 injured people were spread out in that section, where there were with all kinds of cuts mostly from accidents such as my nephew’s and others with injuries from violent crime.
Heads with hair half shaved to reveal the nasty cuts, swollen eyes and lips, mashed limbs, and of course the cries for help for relief. It was such a sight. It is only when you see such things that you are reminded of the priceless gift of life and health.
You think about how you too left home the same way they did, used the same transport means they did but somehow here you are whole, and them, well… One particular woman caught my eye.
She had no visible physical injury but you could tell she was in a lot of pain. She would let out occasional whimpers and the contortions on her face spoke out loud. Her attendant, who had a little sleeping baby strapped to her back kept feeding her what looked like fruit juice from an old mineral water bottle.
At some point, a young male doctor came to check on her. And there in front of strangers, she was asked the most intimate and embarrassing questions you can think of.
The kind that you only talk about with the wretched skeletons in your closet and personal doctor. I wonder if she was honest when she answered because embarrassment tends to make it difficult to tell the truth. The check-up kept on becoming more and more embarrassing as it progressed. Sometimes she would have to repeat her responses so the doctor could hear.
So I, and I am sure, many other people tried in vain to pretend not to be listening in on the doctor and the patient. We also looked away out of respect for her dignity when the young doctor announced loudly that he was going to insert a finger in a certain private place to find out if there was anything of concern back there. I am not even blaming the doctor.
He was doing his rounds the best way he could with the little that has been provided. That was probably the 19033th human behind he had to prod.
Besides, the way the ward is arranged, it is impossible to afford one any sort of privacy. It is not as pretty as they make it look in those Hollywood medical series you binge on. And might I say I do not envy him? What a job! I have experienced shabby service at certain health centres but it has never been as dehumanising as this was.
And I thought I had problems. At least my average health insurance package will allow me a closed door or curtain drawn around a bed before that kind of check is done. It is sad though that it has to take such extremes to be grateful for what one has but also demand better not just for self but for the collective.
Right now, politicians are falling over themselves trying to get themselves in line for the 2026 general elections.
If only it would be with the same dedication that they press for improvement of government facilities and services when they finally make it. My nephew made it out of there in a cast and is generally recuperating well thanks to God and the medical personnel. Unfortunately, not everyone leaves alive.
Even more unfortunate is that those who leave (alive or dead) are quickly replaced by new entries who partake of the same ill-equipped facilities. That is just the way it is- Bruce Hornsby. I do not know how to end this because I do not think it counts to the powers that be what I think or wish would be done.
So, I will do the one thing that always works best. Focus on other people with seemingly bigger problems so mine can pale in comparison even just for a minute.
Say for instance, people whose livelihoods are being reigned on by bombs and missiles in Iran and Israel.
