Today, a 21 year old girl died because of Johnson’s Syndrome. An antibiotic resulted in an allergic reaction in her body. Rashes and burns started to appear all over her body. She was admitted to Apollo hospital. She succumbed to this rare fatal disease. I barely knew this girl, yet I feel so affected by her death. Her death reminded of my days when I was admitted to the ICU. The constant beeping of monitor, the saline water and the medicine tube attached to my chest through a needle, the air tubes attached to my nostrils for my breathing. The sleepless nights in the hospital bed still haunts me sometimes when I am in a dark room with no one around. The silence kills me, again and again.

 

I saw hundreds of sick patients, old and young. All of them were prisoners in this hell. All waiting for their normal life to return. At that moment, life in trains, colleges with boring lectures did not seem monotonous, I craved for them. I was craving for my life to return to me. It felt like I was paying for all the sins I have done, but I couldn’t not remember what I have done to deserve this. I was longing to walk again, to feel free, to be independent again. I saw old men with liver conditions, which were fatal. Beside my bed, about 10 feet away, a boy of my age perhaps, he had a liver condition as well. He could not eat anything except fluids. He used to sit all day and stare at nothing. The age when men and women thrive in career, fall in love, make memories, he sat there waiting for his life to begin.

 

Ten days after my recovery, I returned home. I still thank the Gods for saving me. On my return, what struck me the most was how many get to return home from the hospital? It’s not always luck and doctors who save lives. Its money. Bidisha’s treatment required twenty-two lakh rupees. A middle class retired Government worker like her father, it was impossible to bring up such an amount overnight. Within a week her immunity system gave up, her throat got infected, and her bowel movements became improper. Her heart gave up. And that was it. If only the treatment was done in time, she could have been saved.

 

May her soul rest in peace.

 

 

 

Author

Hey Guys! I am Anjali. A 23-year-old law student with a passion for writing. Really introvert in nature but with a pen in my hand, I'd be anything I would want to be. A bit nerdy but Bengali by heart and I love traveling (who doesn't?). I am a foodie, a book lover and a binge watcher. For collaborations and getting in touch with me e-mail me at: [email protected]

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