NST : The Sunday Column: Beg, borrow or steal, life’s too precious Part 1

Reality of Medical Practise - Extract form NST Column

The Sunday Column: Beg, borrow or steal, life’s too precious

Kalimullah Hassan

March 19:

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I ALMOST lost my younger brother this week because he did not have much money on him, because he had too much pride in him.

It was late Tuesday when my sister-in-law called from a clinic in Klang, saying my brother had suffered a heart attack while playing badminton.

At first, I thought it was just chest pain. After all, he had turned 42 and when I saw him a week earlier, he had looked fine.

Nevertheless, I told her not to take chances and rush him to the nearest hospital.

"The General Hospital?" she said. "Is that the nearest?" No, there was a private hospital nearby. Rush him there, I said.

Then my brother came on the line, gasping, asking which hospital he should be taken to. The nearest hospital, for God’s sake, and if it is the private hospital, then go there.

Suddenly, it struck me that what this proud family could not tell me was that they did not have money to pay the deposit in a private hospital.

My brother operates a canteen in a school in Klang. He makes enough to make ends meet and keep his wife and four children comfortable.

But he has always had this proud streak where he would not ask for help, even though he needed it desperately.

I told him not to worry, just go to the nearest hospital, and I would be there soon to look into the deposit.

At the hospital, my sister-in-law had paid RM700 — all the money she carried — as part payment for the RM5,000 deposit.

They do not believe in credit cards and probably, with the uncertainty in their incomes, they would not qualify for it either.

As I paid the deposit with my credit card, I wondered what would happen to people who did not have a brother or someone else to turn to in an emergency like this.

In the following days, this question became more relevant and pressing to me.

He did have a heart attack, a bad one at that. The following day, the hospital performed angioplasty and inserted stents to keep the artery clear.

In the morning, the hospital’s accounts department called, asking for another RM3,000 deposit, which my wife paid.

And the day after his procedure, the accounts department called my wife again — she had instructed them not to bother my brother with money issues — asking her to pay another RM24,000.

She told them she’d do it by evening as she was tied up during the day; but they kept calling, saying the accounts department closed at 5pm and she had to come earlier.

So, she dropped everything and went to the hospital and paid the money. Wow. Is that how they run hospitals these days? Apparently so.

We have read in the newspapers so many times how patients died because they were refused treatment when they could not come up with the deposit.

That was probably on my brother’s mind when he, on one hand wanting to ensure he received good treatment and, on the other, knowing he had not enough money, hesitated rushing to the private hospital.

He could have gone to the General Hospital, which was a distance away, and received almost free treatment. But then again, he was afraid he would not make it.

In some ways, I am glad I have become familiar with the unsaid word, which is so important in our society.

People do not tell you what is on their mind and beat around the bush, expecting you to get the message.

Being blunt is not the done thing; asking for help is a sign of inferiority. Hogwash.

But I suppose I cannot blame my brother because this is the way we have been brought up.

It would have made it easier for me had they just told me that they wanted to go to the nearest hospital, which was a private hospital, but did not have the money for the deposit. Precious minutes were wasted until it dawned on me what they were really trying to say.

The lesson from this episode is that when you do not have enough money, it can kill you. When you have too much pride, it can kill you as well.

The cardiologist at the hospital was superb; a young man with an excellent bedside manner who was very comforting to the family.

He took time to explain to my sister-in-law and her children what had happened and what would happen and what the risks were. He left them more assured than when they were uninformed.

To the surgeons and doctors, saving a life was the most important thing to them. But to the administrators, entrusted by the owners and investors, the bottom line was equally important.

So, as they are trained, they harass the patient and his family, asking for top-ups, and subtly letting it be known that treatment could come to a halt if the monies are not paid on time.

Years ago — in 1989 — my mother had a heart attack. She was 56. So it runs in the family.

I was out of a job, my wife was a junior lawyer and University Hospital informed us that they needed to do a by-pass. They recommended a nearby private hospital.

Then, it cost about RM18,000 to do a by-pass and between my wife and me, we had only a fraction of that money and we asked the doctors how much time we had.

"You have to do it within the next 12 months. She will be fine until then with medication," was the reply.

We figured that beg, borrow or steal, we would raise the money within the year and send her for the surgery.

But three months later, she had another major attack and was rushed to the University Hospital. She was dead on arrival.

I have never forgiven myself for that and till today, my wife and I wonder how different it would have been if we had had money then. But being Muslims, we also believe it was fated and going forward, we should do what we can to help others who may not be as fortunate.

We can only count our blessings that we could be there for my younger brother, but the question that bugs us is, what about others like him? Do they have someone to call and ask for help? Do they have someone who can help if they cannot get to a government hospital?

It is just like beautiful little three-year-old Angel Lai in Sabah who was saved by stem-cell therapy only because her relatives pooled their resources to raise the RM100,000 for her treatment.

The joy her family feels does not justify or warrant the question: What if not...

But what if they could not raise that money? Like my wife and I couldn’t in 1989.

Do we sigh and say life’s a bitch and get on with our lives? Again, do we say it is not our responsibility?

We cannot keep saying that. Our society is our responsibility. The Government can only do so much. It could do much more if there was greater competency and efficiency all round.

We can only hope that the Abdullah Ahmad Badawi administration succeeds in changing the mindset, in building up the software to match the hardware that is in place.

But even when that happens, the better off in society cannot afford to fold their arms and do nothing about the less fortunate.

Is there a solution? I don’t know. But if we spend less time bickering, plotting, undermining — whether in politics, business or life — and diverted our energy into activities to help the less fortunate, like in the developed societies, we can only become a better country.

But heck, what’s the point? The good guys will continue to be the good guys, and those who are not good, words are not going to change them.

Yes. Life’s a bitch.