Read the first three parts in this series here:
Man proposes, God disposes (Part 1)
Man proposes, God disposes (Part 2)
Man proposes, God disposes (Part 3)
Right from the third day of his operation, my father was asked to start walking. With the help of the nurses and a walker, he had to do a few rounds on the hospital floor. He was given antibiotics and painkillers, and that kept him going. He had lost the confidence to walk, but there was no other option for him. He did exactly what he was asked to do by the nurses and doctors there. He didn't quite like the food that they gave him there. He was not used to the German food of bread, soup, and salad at all. And being a vegetarian, my options were limited. We carried some home-made chapatis and some fruits for him. He was happy to eat that and was constantly asking when he would get discharged from the hospital and when he could go home. The nurse who brought the food every evening saw me and my mom there almost everyday, and she once spoke to me and expressed that she has not seen patients visited every day by the family. I smiled and said to myself, "You won't understand." It is quite normal in India to visit patients. Friends, neighbors, and relatives—everyone comes visiting to make the person feel better and cared for. In the room next to my father's, there was an old lady who kept on talking to the nurses sitting outside, asking them to call her son and take her home. I felt very bad for that old lady. I remembered how both my grandmothers breathed their last among their family and kids, not in loneliness and pain. The hospital staff was doing their job. They were already understaffed and overworked. How could they possibly have an emotional side to their personality? The nurse went in and told the old lady in very stern words to stop shouting and have her food in peace. The old lady obliged, and the next day, it was the same old story.
We brought my father back home on November 16, 2022, after getting the doctor's approval. His vital signs were all normal, and the X-ray of his surgically repaired leg was clear. The hospital charged us a hefty sum of 10,000 euros. We paid it in two installments. The Indian health insurance was not a cashless one, and we had to pay here upfront and then get it reimbursed from the Indian insurance company once my parents returned to India. The hospital gave all the necessary discharge papers and bills that could be submitted to the Indian insurance company. The hospital also gave us prescriptions for physiotherapy and for buying a walker and a wheelchair. We were not sure if we could get an appointment for physiotherapy so soon. There is often a 3- to 6-month waiting period for residents here. And my dad was just a tourist visiting for 5 weeks. We decided not to go for any physiotherapy and opted to do the exercises prescribed by the doctor in the hospital.
Before bringing my father back home, we had to arrange for a walker and a wheelchair. The good old neighbors staying in my apartment helped us with a walker and a wheelchair. With these two things, he could be mobile at home, and we could also take him out once to Karlsruhe Schlossplatz in a tram and show him the Christmas market. We took him to a restaurant, where we had nice, hot coffee and some snacks. That was the only time I could take him out to show Karlsruhe.
The other time was after a week of surgery, when I took my father to the family doctor to have him examined and the stitches checked. But I was very appalled by her apathy towards my dad. She didn't even come out to see him. My dad was waiting outside the clinic in a wheelchair with my German neighbor, as he couldn't climb steps and get into the clinic. She looked at all the discharge papers and told me that it was a very common operation. The surgeons in St. Vincentius do 30 such operations in a day; there is nothing to worry about. She just gave him the painkillers and asked him to take them until he returned. She asked us to do an X-ray again after 6 weeks, and only after the clearance of the orthopedic doctor could my father go back to India. Again, my mind raced to the family doctor in India, who takes time to listen, understand, and then recommend things. The personal connection is missing here in almost all professions that cater to people.
My dad wanted to leave Germany as soon as possible, and he even told me to reconsider postponing their return, which I declined.
To be continued.
No comments:
Post a Comment