The fear for the Hospital may be justified after all! Muyanja Ssenyonga

Never ever underestimate people’s fears, for man is a rational being, and often fears expressed by man are not always  driven by rationalization  but  cogently rational. The following exposition delves into why this may be the case, whatever side you choose to view the contentious issue.

It is common knowledge that many people have, what to some is inexcusable abhorrence of the place, where others rush to secure the rectification of   muscle that has pulled,  a bone that has under severe strain given way to serious   concussion , a black eye that never shows signs of “flushing”, some  headache, gastro-enteritis disturbances, little sleep nightmares , name it; are all taken to this one place at the slightest opportunity by most persons to the place we have come to call the hospital. It is a place where one seeks for a remedy of the never-ending ailment, which threatens to put one’s job, career and sometimes,  dear life into jeopardy. The more advancement mankind unleashes, the easier and quicker it should be to relieve even the most complex pains. One really hopes so, but oftentimes, hopes are what they are mere hopes. A good friend of mine often looks at me askance whenever I tell him that I am going to the hospital. Not because, it is ‘cool’ to do so, on the contrary, he chills at the very mention of the word. One would think that the work Rumah sakit contributes more to his fears, than what  actually goes on in some of  these places of remedy and rectification. For him it a place to visit if you want to acquire ailment, rather than heal them, how apt  such a notion  fits the experience the writer and an acquaintance underwent, is to anybody’s guess must to their belated regrets. .

Feeling somewhat hard of seeing, after some four or so hours reading, a Mr. Budi finally reaches what was to become the most expensive decision of his University life, to visit the optician. Fearing the unknown, he strengthens his resolve to go the hospital, not any one of the many private clinics around town. His conviction is that the best bang for the money is where the concentration of talent is the highest. Who can blame him? It didn’t take long, before the scheduled ‘rendezvous’, forgive the euphemism, with his honorable doctor struck zero hour. Fortunately enough, being a humid Thursday afternoon, there weren’t many patients waiting for turns, so within minutes of his arrival, Budi’s name  was    called by the nurse, whom Budi prefers to call by the Bahasa equivalent suster, which invokes  the motherly care, exuding from the very hospitable face. No pressure was measured this time, which to him was great relief, however what was  to transpire later belied the good start that  welcomed him into the corner-room that served as the optician ward. The strongly build doctor, instructed him to seat in front of  a device with his chin lowered on to some wooden support, face forwards. He was told to read some numbers, and four or five letters from the alphabet, and apparently, much to his surprise it was all over. At least that was what it appeared to him. The entire process didn’t exceed 15 minutes, which was astounding because many of his friends had told him to ‘tighten’ up his belt for a 30 or so minute inspection. So he had broken the record, and ecstatic, was the best word to describe his state of mind.  A note was handed to him by the ‘suster’ telling him to head for the cashier and to whoever ophthalmic optician of his choice for the prescribed glasses, which according to the ‘suster’, the doctor indicated he needs them very badly if ever he is to overcome his nagging ailment! And that was a shocker!

Here was a guy who was so proud of his sight that he often  challenged others to beat him at reading the most distant writing in the fastest  time possible, and no body had beaten him. Surely , according to him, “I don’t have to be a doctor to know that my eyes are merely suffering from a minor irritation, which is not something serious enough to sentence one to that never ending world of being be-spectacled for life you live,”  besmirching   one of his friends who has been putting on glasses since elementary school.  Like most people, his vulnerability and powerlessness  lay in his indecision to know  what to do, and when to do it. He was convinced that the doctor’s diagnosis was the right one, but the prospect of using glasses was not easy to stomach. Eventually, he fill filled his obligations with the cashier, went to the ATM,  and off he zeroed in on the ophthalmic optician  in town. The prescription advised the use photosensitive  diverging lenses, which were somewhat pricey to him, but he obliged and paid for them. Hardly had he clasped the glasses on, when the pandora’s box went ajar! He had never, according to him, experienced such excruciating pain in his then almost 30 years of his life . The eye balls were ‘burning’, the head throbbing like a drummer had  slipped into his head uninvited, the muscles around the neck were tense, why, he had no idea. After inquiring from friends, he was told to calm as almost every one who uses glasses experiences that problem the first time until the eyes get used to the ‘specs’. He put the glasses back on, experiencing even more serious troubles, which he tolerating until he went to bed for what turned out to be a night he will never forget. He tried for the first time to use the glasses to  read in preparation for the following day’s lecture. Tears begun to roll down, the guy’s chilly- red , irritated eyes, and he threw the ‘damned sickness’ .for that was what he henceforth them called them, vowing never to use them again. He resolved to pay a visit to the doctor, the next day, who however was not available as it was his day in the optician clinic. With a lot of disappointment and disgust, he did what he had refused to do; visited the street optician, to have some second opinion o his eye problem. What he knew was that there was something slightly wrong with the  magnitude of the lenses that were prescribed for him, and nothing more. Imagine the surprise that struck him when he was told that according to the measure taken of his eye sight, he didn’t have either shortsightedness, long-sightedness or even accommodation problems. What he had was an eye irritation that had developed into another complex ailment because of using lenses  that  were  inappropriate. The eyes had buckled under strains and stress! Budi whined uncontrollably, about the irreparable damage that had been inflicted on his dear eyes, by a man he so respected to the extent of  worshipping  for he knew, it was him, to relieve him of the pain. Hardly as many other people find out, who become victims of shoddy, rash judgments made by  our respectable  modern ‘exorcisers’ of spirits that cause ailments, that by seeking solution to his woes, he was entering the abyss. He lamented the cost he had to pay to cure his eyes from the newly acquired ailment, which was on  addition to the cost of paying for the pricey , superfluous glasses. Consulting the hospital was fruitless as according to the officials, the right procedures had been followed to the letter. Of course resorting to litigation was ruled out as foolhardy for how on this world was a painless student ever have a chance to win a case against a well funded hospital . Budi, has now joined the ranks of the permanently eye sights, as he can no longer see without using tinted glasses to protect him from much light. Not only has his impeccable sight gone, but so he has his pride , and esteem. You tell him to go the hospital and he will curse you. For him it is indeed the house to get  sickness and not where sickness is exorcised. And by the talks that go around town, many have become adherents to this new religion of Hospital is hospice, never to be visited for one seeking remedies to slight ailments. Only the  hospital and the dispenser of the operating , the government , are capable enough to  undo the damage already done. Action now, or the situation may get out of hand!