Sharing the grief of a mother

Ihave never met Aman but could feel the silent tears of a bereaved mother. Yes, I am talking about the column by Hasna Jasimuddin Moudud titled Aman's Ordeal published in The Daily Star last Saturday. I have met the writer once and that was years back in different circumstances. She is the daughter of an illustrious son of the soil, Palli Kabi Jasimuddin, and wife of BNP politician Barrister Moudud Ahmed. She recently lost her son Aman. When Aman breathed his last, I was in Europe but managed to read the news. Hasna's write-up gives details, along with names of the doctors and hospitals whose careless handling of the ailing Aman led to a tragedy. Whether Aman would survive or not is not in the hands of any human being, but doctors are supposed to exhaust their ability, and hospitals are supposed to facilitate the efforts of the doctors to save a patient. In the case of Aman, this did not happen.  

Availability of proper healthcare is a birthright of all human beings. However, many countries of the world, including Bangladesh, deny this right to their citizens or international patients. Recently, I was abroad, leading a high powered delegation of government bureaucrats and UGC senior officials. One of our team members was an asthma patient. Due to the falling temperature, his condition suddenly deteriorated. One of our hosts, from a renowned university, took my colleague to the university health care centre to administer an inhaler. The healthcare centre asked for an insurance card which my colleague did not have. The centre informed him that if they administered the inhaler, he would have to pay $800! The poor fellow had to return to the hotel where he had his own inhaler. 

Aman, when admitted to a renowned hospital in the capital, was diagnosed to be suffering from dengue. From the description of Aman's mother, it seemed like the hospital was experimenting on Aman, disregarding the fact that they were endangering his life. Aman's parents were seriously worried about the deteriorating health of their son. They took their son to Singapore in an air ambulance to get better treatment in the well-known Mount Elizabeth Hospital. However, due to the negligence of the concerned authorities there, the young man breathed his last on a foreign soil. In fact, even after death, Aman could not rest in peace, as his body lay in the Singapore General Hospital morgue for hours, while the hospital and law enforcement authorities indulged in lengthy bureaucratic processes with the bereaved parents.    

Before receiving their degree, doctors have had to take the Hippocrates Oath, named after the celebrated Greek physician. The oath stated: "Life is short, and the Art long; the occasion fleeting; experience fallacious, and judgment difficult. The physician must not only be prepared to do what is right himself, but also to make the patient, the attendants, the external cooperate." Doctors also had to promise that they would "follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous." Doctors are still required to take the oath, but I doubt that they use it in their professional life. 

When my 90-year old mother was suffering from malnutrition, we admitted her to the clinic owned and run by people we knew well. For no apparent reason, the clinic staff took her to the ICU and began administering oxygen (I cannot tell for sure if there was any oxygen in the mask). One of the doctors, whom I knew for ages, told the duty doctor that if necessary, my mother should be given life support. I was not only surprised but alarmed  by the greed shown by the staff of the clinic. After seven days, on our insistence, my mother was shifted to a cabin. She just needed nutritious liquid food, administered through a rice tube. However, an unnecessary four-member "medical board" would visit her every day, only to inflate their bills. After 19 days, my mother was finally released, and we had to dish out a fat bill. 

Unfortunately, healthcare in Bangladesh, and in many other countries, no longer serves the purpose of the patients but only the pockets of the doctors and the coffers of the owners who run these hospitals or clinics. Ask every patient; he or she will have his or her sad story to share, as did Hasna Moudud. The parents of Aman will not get back their beloved son, but the bereaved mother should be thanked for sharing not only her son's ordeal but also for exposing the misdeeds of some of our high profile hospitals, and the systemic problems that prevail even in countries like Singapore. May Aman's soul rest in peace. 

The writer is Chairman, University Grants Commission of Bangladesh.