Hospital Diaries


Hospital Diaries: Part One

Yeah hospital diaries! Sounds weird, isn’t it. People create travel diaries, I made this. Being a not-so-fit child in my childhood and due to the series of mishaps which occurred recently with my family, unfortunately I have spent a quite a major portion of my life in hospitals.

But during those stays, I observed and came to this conclusion that hospital is one of such places where actually, everyday several new stories get created. Some are of grief, joy, sacrifice and sometimes of anxiety.

It holds different stories not only of patients but also various doctors and hospital staff,patients who belong to different regions of India and also to different countries. Yes countries!.There are many countries compared to which India is indeed much advanced technologically. Therefore, people from such countries come to our land for their treatments; African, Iranian to name a few.

And hence this it’s a small try from me to collaborate all small yet heart touching incidents i came across (hoping it would touch my readers too).One story in each part.

Here I am with my first part of my series:

# Divided by nations, United by same feeling.

Mother is someone, whichever slab of society she belongs to, whichever caste, creed, colour or nation she belongs to. Her love towards her child is universally the most eternal, pure and above all infinite in its nature

Some time back my mother was hospitalised as she met with an accident. She landed in this hospital for her motherly love towards our dog.Whilesaving it from getting hit by a truck,she herself let the truck hit her. Thankfully,the truck had a slow speed and it prevented the accident from being a major one.But still she got a nice fractured hand.

I took a two bed room for admission. Our room mates were an African family. We were already in the room when they arrived. The mother was a jolly good woman. She herself came up to us and introduced herself.

We had already figured out who the patient was among them, it was their 6 year old daughter, as it was quite visible from the hospital robe she was wearing. When on speaking further to the mother, she informed us that her daughter is having failed kidneys.

We did feel pity on the mother, and enquired about the donor’s status. The next moment she said something which turned my pity into enormous pride towards her. She said, “No we searched a lot for the donors, but as we didn’t find any, I will be donating my kidneys to her. I will be staying here, next to your bed.”, with sparkling eyes and a broad smile.

I felt a jerk, a jerk within me, somewhere as deep as my soul.

Really, what a mother can do for a child and to what extent, no one could ever measure and that too with absolute bliss. No lines of worry were on her face, only the streak of happiness and satisfaction that finally her daughter will be fine.

I could feel my eyes wet in fraction of second. I have never felt comfortable to let people know that Yes, I do feel weak and emotional. Hence, I looked away from her, so that she couldn’t see it, in fact so that nobody could see it. Not even Maa.

I sat there aghast. In front of me were sitting two mothers. Two mothers divided by nations but united by their love for their babies.

One already done with her share of sacrifice and still smiling all the way and the other one ready for her share of sacrifice with all smiles in her face.