The Chaos Within... within
As I piled six of my team into the back seat of Mikey's Maruti 800 I was conscious of the pressure the little tires were under. We were driving back from the crematorium where face number sixteen had just been swallowed by the electric oven. The wife's frenzied wailing, the children's ( a little boy and a little girl) shock and confusion and the swiftness of disposal weighed upon all of us.
We just lost another client. Another client that should not have been lost.
He was at Sassoon hospital and required ART but the hospital refused to begin the treatment until all the tests were carried out. This included a CD4 test to check if he required ART... the hospital however had run out of CD4 test kits. Sorry, there will be a delay.
We carried out the required tests (including a CT scan) and our doctor, Dr. Madhu Oswal started him on ART on Tuesday. The CD4 count was yet to be done, the CD4 count that we would have had to pay Rs.600 for because Sassoon claimed they had no kits until Tuesday morning when Dr. Madhu called them and they admitted that the kits had 'just' arrived.
Any physician would have done the same, i.e. start him on ART... any physician who knew what HIV is and how it affects our body.
We were too late.
NACP III the comprehensive National AIDS Control Programme has promised free CD4 tests from April onwards, the Clinton Foundation is working hard for free ART for kids and there is much hope for PLHIV in our city... much hope.
Yet are these plans of mice and men deliverable in the real world? Are test kits going to dry up? Are ART shipments to Pune going to be delayed by the monsoons again? Are excuses going to be made and phone calls remain unaswered as the rings reverberate in an empty Govt. ART Centre because the luch hour has extended to two hours and the queue has extended to 80 people... people from the rural communities that know little of Pune other than how to find themselves to Sassoon Hospital, this broken beacon of hope that does its best to deliver... we hope and they hope... we all fucking hope.
And how much can we leave to hope, that appears to be so intermingled with fate that while not strictly an oxymoron it smells suspiciously like one - hopeful fate, or is that fateful hope?
The family of our client that was bundled into the rickshaw outside the crematorium chugged of in a mist of this bewilderment that hope and fate brings.
The chaos within them... within us, who are left standing by mummified bodies that are swallowed by large electric ovens will continue to wrench at us.
Today the guy who operates the machine looked at me and smiled like I was an old friend. An old friend that he meets only at funerals, and so the smile of recognition was tempered with, 'I shouldn't really smile here, but Hi anyway'... and then he gently shepherded us out as the fire went onto to do its duty. I was about to ask him how many ovens he does a day... but no words were possible and soon we were in the Maruti 800 driving home with the little tires under more pressure than they are used to... or were supposed to handle.
Maya and I spoke again of what possible ways forward exist for us with Sassoon, and how the death there for PLHIV appears to be a matter of course... questions we don't know the answer to, but questions that help us work through the chaos within... to somehow find a way forward for us all.
Maya always leaves with me from the crematorium. Both of us will have it no other way. I see fear in her eyes, and she sees fear in mine. Fear not of death but of the suffering that continues to assail PLHIV in our city of Pune.
We just lost another client. Another client that should not have been lost.
He was at Sassoon hospital and required ART but the hospital refused to begin the treatment until all the tests were carried out. This included a CD4 test to check if he required ART... the hospital however had run out of CD4 test kits. Sorry, there will be a delay.
We carried out the required tests (including a CT scan) and our doctor, Dr. Madhu Oswal started him on ART on Tuesday. The CD4 count was yet to be done, the CD4 count that we would have had to pay Rs.600 for because Sassoon claimed they had no kits until Tuesday morning when Dr. Madhu called them and they admitted that the kits had 'just' arrived.
Any physician would have done the same, i.e. start him on ART... any physician who knew what HIV is and how it affects our body.
We were too late.
NACP III the comprehensive National AIDS Control Programme has promised free CD4 tests from April onwards, the Clinton Foundation is working hard for free ART for kids and there is much hope for PLHIV in our city... much hope.
Yet are these plans of mice and men deliverable in the real world? Are test kits going to dry up? Are ART shipments to Pune going to be delayed by the monsoons again? Are excuses going to be made and phone calls remain unaswered as the rings reverberate in an empty Govt. ART Centre because the luch hour has extended to two hours and the queue has extended to 80 people... people from the rural communities that know little of Pune other than how to find themselves to Sassoon Hospital, this broken beacon of hope that does its best to deliver... we hope and they hope... we all fucking hope.
And how much can we leave to hope, that appears to be so intermingled with fate that while not strictly an oxymoron it smells suspiciously like one - hopeful fate, or is that fateful hope?
The family of our client that was bundled into the rickshaw outside the crematorium chugged of in a mist of this bewilderment that hope and fate brings.
The chaos within them... within us, who are left standing by mummified bodies that are swallowed by large electric ovens will continue to wrench at us.
Today the guy who operates the machine looked at me and smiled like I was an old friend. An old friend that he meets only at funerals, and so the smile of recognition was tempered with, 'I shouldn't really smile here, but Hi anyway'... and then he gently shepherded us out as the fire went onto to do its duty. I was about to ask him how many ovens he does a day... but no words were possible and soon we were in the Maruti 800 driving home with the little tires under more pressure than they are used to... or were supposed to handle.
Maya and I spoke again of what possible ways forward exist for us with Sassoon, and how the death there for PLHIV appears to be a matter of course... questions we don't know the answer to, but questions that help us work through the chaos within... to somehow find a way forward for us all.
Maya always leaves with me from the crematorium. Both of us will have it no other way. I see fear in her eyes, and she sees fear in mine. Fear not of death but of the suffering that continues to assail PLHIV in our city of Pune.
posted by Deep Griha at 3:54 am
2 Comments:
Mate, don't focus on the negative. There is sorrow and hope in everything. It sounds trite but all I mean to say is all is not lost!
Peace!
Hi Philosopher.
This is Veronica. The DGS website is looking awesome - I'm impressed. I haven't had a look in about 5 years I guess. Well done for everything you are doing to fight HIV/AIDS, Hans. From a former insider's perspective, it appears that there has been a kind of renaissance at DGS. Would that be a valid observation? It looks very vibrant. If I had my time again I'd want to be involved in the creche in a big way. Maybe that's what motherhood does to you. Hope everyone's well. Catcha. (BTW, never used a blog before so I've probably written all the wrong stuff for a Blog site. Liked the other anonymous comment.)
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