‘You were lucky’, the doctor said as he faced Om. ‘You could have died. The bullet went through some very important tissue matter and ligaments. If it had gone through even a couple of millimetres to the right of the mark, it could have gone through your heart.’
Om was lying down on the hospital bed. He couldn’t say anything to the doctor. The shock of what had happened was just too much to take in and maintain one’s stride. Instead, he just nodded and look sternly in the eyes of the doctor.
‘Now you need to stay here for a couple of weeks. We need to tend to your wounds, change the bandage regularly and you need bed rest. Do you have a health insurance?’ The doctor was flicking through a pile of papers as he spoke. He looked up.
‘No’, Om said, simply.
Why would or could he have a heath insurance? The government hospitals were all that most Nepali people could afford as they cost next to nothing. If you knew someone working at the hospital, you could get all treatment for free; no need for health insurance that was too much for most people to afford anyway. Private hospitals were just too expensive. Their primary clientele were foreigners living in Nepal. What these private hospitals charged for one visit was more than an average Nepali person earned in a month.
Om lay in silence on the bed. It had been a regular outing on the motorbike. He had gone to see his cousin who lived on the other side of Kathmandu. He was on his way back home. It had just gone dark. He was driving along on one of the high ways that cut across Kathmandu. All of a sudden, there was one motorbike on his left side, and another one on his right side. They seemed to be competing against one another. Then, all she could remember was feeling a sharp pain and falling off the bike. The next thing he knew was that he was lying on the hospital bed.
Apparently a car had stopped after Om had been lying on the road for twenty minutes. He had been unconscious and no one else had had the courage to stop, as the two motorbikes riding alongside him were politicians belonging to two different parties. They were sorting out their differences by trying to shoot the other one down. Unfortunate to Om, he had happened to be in the middle of their sorting out and now he was the one in hospital with a deep bullet wound. The doctor had operated him immediately and removed the bullet. Om winched with pain as he tried to move position.
‘Well then, this is going to be an expensive trip for you’, the doctor seized him up. ‘Would you rather take out a loan for this or get treated somewhere else?’
‘Would it be ok if I call my wife?’ Om asked in response.
‘Of course, let me get you a phone’, the doctor said.
Om tried to sit up upright. How cheap was human life, he thought. If you could not afford to pay for the medical service, they would just let you drop dead rather than invest even one penny into you.
A nurse appeared carrying a phone. Om dialed his phone number. His wife answered. She started crying as she heard Om’s voice. ‘Where have you been? I have been so worried!’ She was shrieking.
‘I am in the hospital, but I am fine. I had a minor accident. I have been treated and I am fine.’ Om was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince his wife. ‘Can you come and get me home? I need bed rest for some days. I should not do any physical exercise for some time.’
As he lay on the bed waiting for his wife to come and get him home, the nurse walked in and handed the bill to Om. It was as much as the monthly salary of him and his wife put together. And they were both teacher earning a decant salary. What would people do who didn’t have even half of what they had?
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For more information on the pubic health system Nepal see this link:
http://www.searo.who.int/EN/Section313/Section1523_6866.htm
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