A Cautionary Tale: Our Father's Journey Through Uncoordinated Healthcare
Amid our grief, we find ourselves compelled to share the story of our father’s battle with cancer.
To be precise with the diagnosis –moderately differentiated squamous cell carcinoma of the esophagus. It’s a personal tragedy and a stark illustration of our healthcare system’s systemic issues. What began as a fight against a ruthless disease turned into a harrowing ordeal of neglect and incompetence, ultimately costing our father his life. Though he fought it bravely till the very end, even at the ripe age of 85 years.
It all began years ago before the pandemic hit the world. Our Father started complaining about severe back pain. He got a few tests, a CT scan, and an ultrasound. He was diagnosed with degenerative scoliosis and was told that he needed to earn the corrective spine surgery. However, apart from this, no thorough tests or check-ups were asked to be conducted. On 5th February 2020, our mom had a fatal fall and was admitted to Apollo Hospital. She had a discoloration of the left frontoparietal region of the brain and a compound fracture of the left wrist.
While attending her in the hospital, our 82-year-old Father complained of profuse sweating and chest pain (14th February 2020). The doctors at Apollo, including the cardiologist Dr. AK and gastroenterologist Dr. SG, attended to our father. They performed a CT scan, ECG, and other required tests, and before we could react, our father was taken for an angioplasty due to suspected artery blockages leading to a heart attack.
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They inserted two stents, and on February 15th, our father was moved to a private room from the cardiac ICU.
where he continued to experience severe pain and vomiting. We were initially told that these were side effects of the anesthesia, but his symptoms were not taken seriously. As the night progressed, his condition deteriorated, and early the following day, we managed to find a resident doctor who was doing her rounds. She immediately noticed that our father’s condition was critical, as his oxygen levels had dropped significantly.
The doctor urgently contacted Dr. AK, Dr. SG, and others on the panel. After a discussion, they informed us that his gallbladder had developed gangrene due to a previously undiagnosed and untreated history of gallstones. On a later date, when my cousin, a very well-known doctor in Mumbai, came down to visit our father, he also met these senior doctors to discuss his health. The doctors admitted that they were aware of this urgent condition when they performed a CT scan for his chest pain but still went ahead with the angioplasty instead of addressing the gallbladder.
Father’s chances of surviving further treatment were drastically reduced due to the gallbladder condition that required immediate surgery and yet could not be performed as he was on blood thinner post angioplasty. We were hence forced to approve a procedure to drain the infection from his gallbladder and later to collapse the gallbladder to prevent any further infection. Miraculously, Father managed to pull through the three-week ordeal and came home after a month in the hospital. We felt all is now fine with both parents at home. (In 2014, our father underwent routine tests and a whole-body check-up. At that time, one of the reports mentioned “noted: gallbladder is distended.” As laypeople, we don’t understand or follow medical terms, but we now wonder why the doctors who saw him didn’t sound an alarm or raise their eyebrows.)
We witnessed Mom’s willpower to overcome her amnesia and regain the ability to walk around the house with the help of a walker. While Father developed a severe fungal infection in his fingernails and toenails, he also became completely bent while walking. We came to terms with our parents’ health situation and were grateful that both were alive and with us.
Two years post-hospitalization in 2020, both our parents gradually aged and slowed down.
We always prayed for their blissful togetherness and wished to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary in 2026 with lots of love and have their blessings bestowed upon us. Little did we know that this happiness of being together would be short-lived.
In late 2022, our father began choking occasionally while eating. We used to ask him to eat slowly and not gulp down the food. My brother Vee took him to his doctor. It was believed that it was because he was bent, and he was prescribed some medicines and asked to get an endoscopy done if things didn’t improve. It was only in May 2023 that he choked and threw up everything he managed to gulp. That’s when Vee felt alarmed and got the endoscopy done. Reports came on 26th June 2023 that a tumor was found at the end of the esophagus near the stomach opening. A biopsy was conducted, and he was diagnosed with “Squamous cell carcinoma” of the esophagus. The prognosis of esophageal cancer is often terrible because it is usually detected at a late stage, so the treatment of esophageal cancer is complicated.
Based on the patient’s age, this cancer can be treated but rarely cured. This was a shocking development in our lives. It suddenly felt like the end of the world for us. Father put up a bold front. He had his usual calm demeanor. He showed his will and wish to live longer even though he was 85, and why not? The healthcare system does not understand this.
We all sprang into action.
Vee met with the team of oncologists headed by Dr. NR at Fortis Hospital in Bengaluru. Since he was a former employee at NIMHANS hospital, he knew many doctors personally and sought their opinions. When a patient is diagnosed with cancer, a surgeon, a radiologist, the oncology department, etc., should all come together to form a panel of experts, prepare plans A and B, and decide on the best treatment, regardless of the patient’s age. They must consider whether surgery, chemotherapy, or radiation would be the most effective course of action. If one treatment fails, a backup plan should also be in place. After considering these factors, the patient and their immediate family are consulted to discuss the pros and cons before beginning treatment. In Father’s case, nothing seemed to be as it should have been.
Neglect Amidst Need:
Father, like many others, trusted healthcare professionals when he was diagnosed with cancer. Unfortunately, that trust was broken by the people who were supposed to care for him. Instead of receiving the care and attention he deserved, Father encountered negligence at every turn. Basic protocols were overlooked, essential treatments were delayed, and his deteriorating condition was dismissed until it was too late.
Well, without collective assessment with Dr. NR’s team and any plan A or plan B, the general surgeon, Dr. GHR, and his team chose to perform a ‘jejunostomy’ (a soft plastic jejunostomy tube (J-tube) placed through the skin of the abdomen into the midsection of the small intestine; the tube bypasses the stomach and delivers food and medicine until the patient is healthy enough to eat by mouth and undergo treatment) on our father instead of using the ‘Ryle’s tube.’ They made this decision because they were concerned that the tumor would block Ryle’s tube from entering the stomach. They decided on the date without discussing any further plans, and a jejunostomy was performed on 13th July 2023. Father was in tremendous pain and discomfort but bared it all. After seeing me travel to Bengaluru to be with them all, he cried and said, “Why me? What have I done wrong?” True that. Father had always sacrificed his pleasures for the betterment of his siblings, extended family, and society. Vee and I felt helpless. Our father was discharged to return home on July 14th.
The J-tube is typically inserted into the small intestine, with about 6 cm of the tube stitched and left outside at the incision site.
However, we observed an excessively long tube coiled up outside the incision site of the J-tube. Only liquid formula could be given through the tube using a large syringe. Due to the extended portion of the tube being coiled up outside, we had to uncoil the tube and hold it up high for the feed to pass into the small intestine, which took a significant amount of time. It was daunting, and Father was disturbed every two hours for the feed.
On the 16th evening, we noticed a leak after one of his feeds, so we decided to rush Father to the ER. Once at the ER, the nurses started pricking Father to insert the cannula. The nurses were so inexperienced that they found the right vein after six pricks. Mind it, we were charged 1000 bucks for every unsuccessful prick. It is this incompetence that makes the hospital make money. Initially, the ER docs suggested an ultrasound to check what caused the leak, but once Dr. G from Dr. GHR’s team came in, they decided to discharge Father and send him home with a fresh dressing at the incision site. We suspected a foul smell because of some infection at the site, but Dr. G refuted it, claimed all to be okay, and assured us it wouldn’t happen again.
We brought Father home and let him rest. The next day passed fine, but on July 18th, after several feeds, we noticed the leak again. A foul smell had developed by early evening, and we had to take Father back to the ER. This time, we knew that Dr. GHR was available for his OPD. We waited for him as word about Father’s condition was sent to him. But the doctor didn’t show up. Vee went in search of him. He ran into Dr. M, a radiologist from Dr. NR’s team. The doctor came to the ER to see our father but seemed to be unaware of everything that was happening, including the jejunostomy that was performed on our father. The lack of awareness and coordination within and across the team of doctors handling a cancer patient was evident.
Finally, Dr. GHR came, saw Father, gave him a fresh dressing, asked us to admit him to the ward for observation, and said that if the leak persisted, he would have to perform corrective surgery on him.
At 85 years of age, our father had to suffer this with a bleak chance of making it through. The junior doctors from his team came, ripped open the dressing, checked on him, and left, leaving Father in pain and discomfort. On the 19th, it was the same saga, so Dr. GHR decided to conduct a corrective surgery, saying, ‘1 in 3 such surgeries are blotched’. The protocol was to get a green tick from all specialties: cardiologist, pulmonologist, oncologist, and general medicine. This took another day at the ward. On the 21st, Father was taken for the surgery. Within 30 minutes, he was out with a smile on his face. Father was brave. Dr. GHR, too, admitted it. What the doctor and his team did was push all the coiled-up J-tube inside the small intestine, saying, ‘The tube had dislocated, and now 45 cm of the tube has been shoved in, and chances of dislocating are less, and so would the leak stop’.
After spending a day at the hospital under observation, we brought Father home on the 23rd. On the 24th, after a few feeds, the tube started leaking with a foul smell. We rushed Father back to the OPD to see Dr. GHR. The doctor took our father to his dressing room, pulled open the stitches, and dragged the J-tube out of his intestine while our father bled and cringed in pain. He then called us into his office and told us that the wound needed dressing every other day, which we could get done by a nurse on call at home. He also mentioned that the wound would take at least a month or two to heal and close. We were asked to be very careful and maintain hygiene as the wound was infected. We then asked the doctor about a backup plan, but he said there was no plan B and suggested that we put Father in Palliative care.
We also tried to meet with Dr. NR, the head oncologist, but she was never available during this entire period. We were able to meet with Dr. M, her junior, who also said that they could not proceed with any course of cancer treatment then and that we needed to wait for the wound to heal. Father had to eat whatever was possible through his mouth. “Father had lost significant weight and muscle mass by now.”
The ideal jejunostomy technique depends on the available resources and, more importantly, the surgeon’s experience.
Dr. GHR’s surgeries did not go as planned, and we heard him receive two more calls about his failed procedures. Unfortunately, Father suffered under him and his goofed-up surgeries. This also led to a two-month delay as we had to address the issues on hand with the surgeries and lost precious time needed to kick start Father’s treatment. We were all frustrated yet did not lose hope. We started giving Father nutritious liquids along with a semi-solid diet. Took utmost care and hygiene of Father. A male nurse would come home every alternate day and clean up the wound and do the dressing.
A month passed, and we noticed that the wound had started to heal. We sought a second opinion at Shankara Cancer Hospital, a non-profit organization. We met with Dr. MS, a surgical oncologist, who examined Father’s wound and confirmed that it had healed well. He also recommended putting Father under palliative care. Previously, Vee had consulted with Dr. VS, a Consultant and Medical Oncologist at Shankara Cancer Hospital, before Father started treatment at Fortis. Dr. VS had given us hope and was prepared to begin treating Father. As a result, we opted to schedule another meeting with Dr. VS.
We had an appointment with the doctor and visited him with Father and all his medical reports. Dr. VS recommended seeing Dr. GGV, the Consultant and Head of Radiation Oncology. While advising us to collect the biopsy sample from Fortis for further evaluation, he wanted to determine Father’s eligibility for undergoing Immunotherapy. We then met with Dr. GGV, who decided that our father should undergo a Barium Swallow test. We could not get an immediate appointment for the test, so Dr. GGV and his radiology team agreed to conduct it in their radiation room since they had some barium in stock. It took over an hour to do this test. We, being laymen, thought it would help determine the points/spots where he would receive radiation. Little did we know how bad this would be for Father. Father was unnecessarily put at tremendous risk of exposure to high amounts of barium. When he was brought out from the room, Father narrated how he was made to swallow the barium four times and hold it for the team to see under the x-ray how it worked. Father was used as an object for the radiology team’s tutorial. This was not done. We were shocked at how they treated Father despite his age, and they didn’t even bother to inform us or get permission from Father and us. They had marked the precise spots where our father was supposed to receive radiation.
However, it took a week for them to decide and inform us that Father would need 30 radiation cycles and a maximum of 6 chemotherapy sessions.
Every weekday, we used to leave early for Father’s radiation treatment. It was very tiring and painful, but Father never complained. He always went into the radiation room with a smile and came out with a smile. Dr. GGV, who saw him for consultation every Thursday, was stunned to find him brave and cheerful without any complaint of pain or discomfort. On Fridays, Father had to be there at 6 am for his chemotherapy. He could only return home around 5 pm. Yet, he remained strong and faced all the harsh treatment without complaint.
Over time, we noticed that Father’s health was improving. He began to gain a bit of weight and started showing more interest in spending time with us in the living room, watching his favorite soap operas. However, during his final round of chemotherapy in late October, Father started experiencing severe bouts of coughing. He had a history of wheezing, persistent hoarse coughing, and phlegm with weather changes. But this coughing seemed different and alarming. During his radiation and chemotherapy sessions, Dr. GGV and Dr. VS, showing great respect to Father, said that we could contact them for any emergency without hesitation and that they would be available 24/7 to help us.
We contacted both doctors for help, and they prescribed strong antibiotics through IV and strong cough syrups and tablets. However, none of the treatments worked for our father. Each doctor blamed the other for their prescribed course of treatment and refused to take responsibility. Neither did they get him admitted and administered antibiotics through IV. Additionally, Dr. GGV and Dr. VS claimed they would communicate with each other about our father’s case. Still, when we asked for their opinions, they denied having been in contact with each other. Their egos seemed to prevent them from consulting each other for the benefit of their patient. As a result, we saw less and less of both doctors, who appeared to be unavailable whenever we tried to reach out to them in case of emergencies. Father’s cough worsened, and he became weak, yet his urge to live never diminished. We could see the pain in his eyes and felt helpless. Meanwhile, I returned to Toronto at the end of October 2023.
As his cough persisted, he was referred to Dr. AK, a pulmonologist at Shankara Hospital.
The doctor reviewed our father’s condition and provided various antibiotic medications. The month of November passed peacefully despite his persistent coughing. Even during this period, we saw our Father trying to lift his spirits and ours. He climbed up to the terrace of our two-storey bungalow, feeling solid and enthusiastic. He promised to walk around, eat well, and stay healthy, showing his zest for life. The members of the society honored Father on 18th November for his relentless service to the community. All seemed to be going fine except for his cough.
It was 8th December, and on a Friday, Father was asked to get a chest contrast CT scan done at Shankara Hospital. We were there for the appointment at 8 am, but the machine was being serviced. And Father was asked to wait. After waiting more than an hour in the hospital lobby, Father wanted to lie in the car’s back seat despite the scorching heat until 1:30 pm. Finally, the CT scan machine was calibrated, and the scan was done on Father. Once we got home, Father’s health suddenly deteriorated. He became breathless and wanted to rest and not go to the hospital over the weekend, so we let him relax at home. On Monday, the 11th, Vee rushed him to Shankara Hospital and got him admitted under Dr. AK, the pulmonologist, care as Father became breathless and had low oxygen saturation. After two days at the hospital, Father still hadn’t been changed into a hospital gown due to the lack of staff, so Vee had to do all the work that a staff/nurse should have done. Additionally, Father was cold as he was not given any blankets. The hospital lacked proper amenities and accessories, and Vee could not leave the room. Despite his complaints to the ward administrator, our father’s services did not improve. To make matters worse, neither Dr. VS nor Dr. GGV came to see our father. Only the pulmonologist, Dr. AK, came to see him and put him on oxygen. After two days, Dr. GGV briefly visited after his assistant’s visit to see our father’s condition. Without proper services/treatment given to our father and no further conclusive diagnosis made for his persistent cough, Vee took Father’s discharge from the hospital and brought him home. Our Father was advised to be on a 2ltr oxygen supply due to his breathlessness.
Once home, Father rested on the bed in the living room.
After a while, he wanted to use the washroom, so Vee took him in a wheelchair to the bedroom, but before he could lift him and walk him to the bathroom, Father had a syncopal attack and collapsed. We felt we had lost him. Vee called for an ambulance from Apollo Hospital. The paramedics came and rushed him to the ER, and later, after a few tests and check-ups, he was admitted to the ICU under Dr. AK, Father’s cardiologist from 2020. We don’t know what tests and diagnoses were done at Apollo Hospital, as Father was discharged after two days, claiming all was okay with him, or that’s what we were told as laymen who couldn’t understand what report they had prepared. The doctors who treated him were unable to determine the cause of his syncopal attack or why he fainted.
After returning home, our father’s condition didn’t improve much. He was bedridden most of the time and had lost his appetite. His voice had become hoarse and subdued due to persistent coughing and the side effects of strong medications. We watched his frail body twist and turn in bed and felt helpless. Vee juggled work, household chores, feeding, and caring for Mom and Father. Since Vee’s wife, too, was away to attend to her mother, he hired a full-time caregiver for Mom, who needed someone around her 24/7 due to her tendency to fall regularly. We sensed Father never complained even though he was in pain so that he wouldn’t stress out Vee, but he probably saw his end coming. He kept telling Mom and Vee that he couldn’t live beyond January.
Father didn’t want to trouble me, as I would have to leave behind all my responsibilities here and travel to Bengaluru.
Vee told me about Father’s wish to see me, and he kept telling Father that I would come to see him only around mid-February. Our Father-in-law predicted that it would be tough for Father to live past February and suggested I rush to spend some quality time with him; I jumped at the thought, booked my one-way ticket ASAP, and reached Bengaluru in the wee hours of 2nd February. Father was so pleased to see me the following day.
February saw all of us on our toes. The first week of February went well. Vee got some respite with me around. Mom kept saying, “Now, all will be fine. We all four can make it through together.” Father seemed to be back with a bang, in complete form, walking around the house with little help and trying to eat better than before. His voice, which had disappeared, was back, though he spoke with difficulty and some hoarseness. He enjoyed eating my cooked food.
February 7th was the last day he stepped out of his bedroom. Despite many relatives visiting, he stayed in bed, only getting up for his shower. On the night of the 11th, we helped him to the bathroom as usual, but as we were washing and drying him, he suddenly collapsed and had a seizure. We quickly lifted him back to bed and called for an ambulance. While we waited, we tried to keep him conscious by rubbing his hands and feet.
We had to bring Father to Fortis Hospital this time because they were familiar with his medical history. We believed they would conduct a thorough diagnosis and provide the necessary treatment for his recovery. At the ER, they performed some tests and an ultrasound and then admitted him to the ICU for two days. After showing signs of improvement, he was moved to a private ward on the 14th and discharged on the 16th. Unfortunately, the doctors couldn’t provide a proper diagnosis for the cause of his seizure, nor for his previous syncopal attack. The attending physician suggested using a BiPAP machine every three hours, as Father’s lungs were congested with carbon dioxide. When we brought him home, he was completely bedridden. At that point, he was so weak that he couldn’t even sit on the bed. His weight had dropped to just 48 kg. Helping him change clothes was a concern as we feared it might hurt him. He had lost all his confidence. Whenever we tried to care for him, he would fold his hands and say, “Sorry, please, let me go.” We all stayed by his side, monitoring him, checking his vitals every other hour, keeping him on oxygen, and using the BiPAP machine.
On the 19th, we had to scold him.
My mom sat beside him and firmly said she wouldn’t eat if he refused. I also had to tell him I would return to Toronto if he didn’t listen to us for his good. Reluctantly, that day, he sat up and ate well. He even commented that he needed such scoldings or policing once in a while to help him get up and going. Every day was a struggle for him, but he cooperated with us as we helped him change into clean clothes, fed him, and changed his sheets and diapers. But he never left his bed. After every care task, he would give a sweet and cute little smile, say, “Thank you,” and bless us. He was indeed a gentleman!
As promised, he called us on Saturday, the 24th, to get his wheelchair so we could take him to the living room to sit with us. Within 10 minutes, he felt exhausted and drained out, so we took him back to his bed. He appeared hopeful, and his desire to live with us seemed to surpass his wish to die. But, on the 25th morning after breakfast, his body seemed to give up; he was sweating profusely, and we had to coax him to have his lunch. We had started him on an IV every alternate day since his return from the hospital to maintain his body electrolytes. The nurses who used to come to clean up his J-tube wound were the ones who came to put him on IV. They were shocked to see such a healthy, active man—our father—appear frail, weak, and shaky.
On the 26th morning, Father reluctantly had his breakfast. We freshened him, and Vee stepped out to find his lost mobile while I started cooking. I kept checking on Father. He was sweating profusely, so I turned on the fan and cheered him on occasionally. Lunch was ready, and when I went to wake Father up, he refused to get up and sit. I then coaxed him and forcibly got him to sit. He seemed uncomfortable once I set the bed tray and said, ‘he was slipping.’ Initially, I thought he was slipping. So, I checked, and he was not. He got disturbed, and, in his angry tone, he again said, ‘ he was sinking.’ I got alerted and checked his vitals. Father was sinking. I felt this could be his end. I froze but gathered myself and called Vee to rush home. I also called the male nurse to rush home to check on Father and put him on IV while I called for an ambulance from Fortis.
The nurse arrived and increased Father’s oxygen to the highest level of 10ltrs, inserted an IV, and attempted to revive Father. The ambulance arrived, and Father was rushed to the ER. His pulse and oxygen levels continued to drop. It took several hours to stabilize him. Due to Father’s condition, the doctors at the ER could not perform a PET scan and made various diagnoses based on assumptions. They concluded that Father’s lungs had collapsed and his heart was failing. They suspected multi-organ failure and were concerned that the cancer may have spread to his brain.
Later that night, they moved him to the NICU. We were asked to wait for counseling
Dr. P from the NICU met us and suggested putting Father on the ventilator. We refused and signed a paper for the same. But when we walked up to see Father for the night, we saw his health deteriorate, and the doctors urged us to put him on the ventilator. We couldn’t bear to see Father in that condition and agreed to have him put on a ventilator.
The night was a nightmare, and we waited for dawn so that we could get to see Father. Father had a Holter machine to monitor his heart. He was attached to the oxygen machine, the ventilator, the BiPAP machine, IV liquids, the Ryles tube, and many other medical piercings. Seeing him in an unconscious state in the fetal position, we felt helpless and prayed he would brave all this. On the 27th night, the doctor from the NICU called us to get permission to administer Fentanyl 200 mcg as Father had been pulling out all the vital connections. We had to give in as it was better than tying up his hands. It is believed that ‘significant respiratory depression can occur following the administration of fentanyl in doses above 200 mcg’.
On the 28th morning, they called us to say Father was showing improvement and would be taken off the ventilator. We were very thrilled and rushed to see him. We met with another Dr. P from Dr. NR’s team, who gave us an update on Father’s condition. He explained that Father is experiencing multi-organ failure and is unable to undergo further scans or chemotherapy. Dr. P recommended transitioning Father to palliative or hospice care, suggesting that we bring him home so he can spend his remaining time surrounded by family. He also mentioned that Father may continue to experience syncopal attacks at home. He advised us to prioritize his comfort and peace by not rushing him to the emergency room if these occur.
We were allowed to meet Father twice a day. So, in the mornings, Vee and I visited Father, and in the evenings, we took Mom and my sister-in-law to see him. All this while, Father had been delirious, more so because of Fentanyl. We thus requested the doctors to stop giving him Fentanyl so that Father could spend some quality time with us. That evening, when I was with my mom visiting our father, the senior cardiologist in Fortis, Dr. SP, came for his visit. Upon seeing me, he mentioned that they were monitoring our father’s heart and felt that Father needed a ‘pacemaker.’ Dr. SP wanted me to agree to the procedure for the following day. I was amused as in the morning, an oncologist had mentioned Father needing hospice care, and in the evening, a cardiologist wanted to perform a procedure to put a pacemaker on Father, who was past 85 years old. I bluntly asked the doctor if Father could sustain the procedure. He said, “There is a risk to his life, but there is nothing wrong with trying.” Well, I just walked away from there, shocked at the irony.
On the 29th, we saw Father speaking loudly and clearly, thanks to the BiPap machine.
His carbon dioxide levels, which had been at 126 (the average level is 22), had dropped to 44. He even joked that the YouTube connections on him had brought his voice back. We noticed many doctors and nurses around him, and he enjoyed joking and sharing stories with them from his early days at the war front. Later that night, we were called to the hospital as Father was being moved to a shared hospital room. Although he was delirious during the night and seemed to be seeing things, we comforted him, and he eventually fell asleep in the early hours of the day. That night, another senior, Dr. T from Dr. NR’s oncology team, came to see Father. He suggested a PET scan for Father to determine if the cancer had spread and start him on chemotherapy if it had advanced. Earlier, a junior doctor from the same team had suggested hospice care as it was risky for Father to undergo a PET scan or chemotherapy. Strange, if Father is at the end of his life, why is he suggesting chemotherapy?
March 1st to 3rd at the hospital was quite challenging. A young Dr. K from Palliative Care came to discuss the next steps. Dr. S, who had been seeing Father in the NICU, visited Father because she was impressed by his strength, energy, willpower, and intelligence. She also needed to know if he was doing fine. She, too, along with Dr. K, updated us about Father’s fragile state of mind, his state of delirium, and the need for us to take him home and let him enjoy family time. Ms. K, a public relations officer from the hospital, visited us regularly, and she, along with the head nurse on the 8th floor, Ms. J, arranged for a private ward for Father as they learned about him.
Despite the care he received, Father seemed distressed and eager to leave the hospital. He was only fed protein shakes through the Ryles tube and was thus unhappy. On the third night, he managed to pull out the Ryles tube, and although the resident doctors tried to reinsert it, Father refused to cooperate. The following day, Dr. S convinced him to have the Ryles tube fixed and promised to remove it during his follow-up if he could cough out loud. Father’s voice was feeble, and he was unable to cough. Dr. T also visited Father regularly and suggested good hospice care. We also hired a male nurse to be with Father 24/7. Father kept insisting on returning home to die in peace.
Finally, Father was discharged on the evening of the 4th. He was thrilled to be back home. We saw him sleep peacefully through the night. He did not meddle with his Ryles tube or the oxygen tube. On March 5th, Father had his first feeding through the tube. After we washed him, he fell asleep peacefully. Later, at 10:30 a.m., we gave him his favorite pomegranate juice through the tube, but he wasn’t quite satisfied. Despite this, he smiled sweetly and asked for Mom. When Mom approached, they held hands for some time. Father then looked at all of us and asked Mom to take care of herself. We assured him we were all there and would take good care of her. He smiled, closed his eyes, and never opened them again. He started to struggle to breathe and slowly began to fade. We put him on IV fluids and tried to wake him from his sleep gently, but he didn’t respond. Dr. S and Dr. K spoke to us and assured us he was leaving us for good. Father breathed his last and passed away peacefully at 6 pm.
Profit Over Patients:
It pains us to say that our father’s suffering wasn’t just a result of oversight; it was a consequence of a series of profit-driven healthcare procedures ingrained in a system that prioritizes the bottom line over human life. Doctors and hospitals, meant to be beacons of healing, often become breeding grounds for meeting the yearly profit targets. Procedures are forced, and tests are ordered without complete evaluation, all with one goal: padding the pockets of those in power.
Speaking Up for Change:
But this isn’t just about our father. It’s about every patient who has fallen victim to a broken and greedy system. It’s about many shattered families, the lives needlessly lost, and the voices silenced by indifference. We cannot continue to disregard these injustices. We must demand accountability from those entrusted with our well-being and fight for a healthcare system that puts patients before profits.
Conclusion:
Our father may no longer be with us, but his story lives on as a cautionary tale. Let us honor his memory by speaking out against the injustices that claimed his life. Let us advocate for change that he never had the chance to be. Together, we can ensure that no one else suffers the same fate.
Our Father did not want to die. He strongly felt he would win this ugly battle and fought so hard. During his last days, he couldn’t speak, but his mouth moved, and the look in his eyes communicated everything we needed to know. We were blessed to be there with him through his final days and saw his last breath. We watched his eyes grow large as if he was trying to tell us something. He peacefully moved on to get his angel wings, but we will miss him around us forever.
