REJECTED BY THE TEACHING HOSPITAL
Before I left, I had contacted the Public Health department again, to let them in on the new development, and the fact that we should seriously start making plans of tracing other people that patient zero may have contacted, and exposed unknowingly. Stupid me! But that's how I am wired; I am never really the type who looks out for himself alone.
The Department of Public Health gave me a contact to call in the Teaching Hospital, and convinced me not to embark on a 9 hour journey to Irrua, since I was sick and unstable, and they have an infection control unit in the Teaching Hospital that is well equipped to handle the case. I called the contact, and he said that they've been informed, and that they are READY and waiting for me. By being "ready," they meant Ribavirin, PPEs, and all that. So, I took a detour, and embarked on a 2 hour journey to the Teaching Hospital instead.
When I got there, I got a cold reception. I was kept in the ambulance for 2 hours, from 6.30pm to around 8.45pm, on the pretext that they were "looking for the keys to the isolation ward." I was left out there unattended to, sick, tired from a long journey, and apprehensive. My friends were calling, yelling that I should leave and start going to Irrua. But I reasoned it was already late, and I didn't want to take that risk.
At around 9pm, they finally "found the keys," and I was taken to an isolation ward, in a huge deserted complex.
After one hour of waiting, and of having the clinical staff peer at me through the window, like I was some alien; someone fully kitted with a PPE, came in to see me.
After asking a few questions, he told me outrightly that I was on my own. That the PPE he was wearing was the last in the hospital, and that no one would agree to touch me without it. He went further to say that as it stood then, neither him, nor the hospital, was "officially aware" that I was in there. Talk about "plausible deniability!"
I was shocked to the marrow. The irony of it-- the fact that I risked my own life to take care of someone I didn't know, who wasn't even from the same state as me, without PPEs, and in a Community Hospital, in a remote village! And right there were people, who were meant to be my professional colleagues, my "Hippocratic" and "Nightingalean" brethren, working in a tertiary institution-- supposedly the most equipped hospital in the state, and yet they couldn't do same for me.
I wasn't mad at them though, as I realized that they were as much victims of a shitty system, as I was; for in their eyes, I saw pity, empathy, and shame. Perhaps if they had PPEs they would have done something. Perhaps not. Truth is, we'll never know.
" Okay," I said; "now that you're still wearing PPE, can you at least help me site an IV line, and put me on IV fluids?"
No, can't do; you're not on admission, and like I said, the hospital is not "aware" you're here.
" What of Ribvirin; can I get it and start treating myself?"
No, we can't give you that; we can't give you drugs without a definitive diagnosis.
"Excuse me? You're saying that in the setting of a potentially life-threatening ailment, you'd rather wait for a confirmatory diagnosis that may take days, possibly risking the patient's life, instead of starting life-saving treatment?"
And he said something I considered condescending about the drugs having numerous side effects.
I scoffed. Drug side effects my foot! As if we were not taught about what to do when benefits outweighs risk in medical school.
At this point, there was no need engaging further; it was obvious this people were playing "political correctness" with my life.
Before they left, they said I should continue self-medicating with the ORS and Zinc, that I CAME WITH, to stay hydrated; and that I should be monitoring MY OWN vital signs, and let them know if "something" happens. Right; like if I enter into shock, my ghost would pick up my phone and start making calls, abi?
That was how I was left ALONE in a vast one storey complex, sick, with a thousand thoughts running through my head.
At around 11pm, I decided it was best to check myself out, and go to find a hotel, spend the night, and then continue my journey to Irrua the following day. And no, I didn't care if I was going to be putting the hotel staff at risk; whatever selflessness, and misguided sense of patriotism, I had died in that Hospital where I was left to my fate. If their government didn't care enough to protect them, even when I had tried to make it easier for them, why should I care? Besides, if I was dying, I would rather spend the remaining of my days in luxury, and comfort, and not in a deserted building where my only companions would be my thoughts, and the elements.
Old habits die hard. As I went to that hotel room, I still went with Dettol, and Jik, and made sure I was washing my hands regularly, to minimize the risk of putting anyone at risk. Lol. Stupid me.