Ben Welsher | Writings

As I reach the end of my course of medication I look back at the variety of pharmaceuticals I swallowed, usually in complete ignorance of their purpose. Having done some 'research' into these colourful little concoctions I present the results below. Top to bottom, left to right. 1, Name : Forte Type : Caplet Size : Very large Colour : Dried blood Purpose : This pill establishes whether there is any constriction of the airway, being sized, as it is, to the average human airway. If it becomes lodged in the throat constriction has occurred. In this way it is a little like Witch dunking in it's functioning. Side effects : Death by asphyxiation 2, Name : Vizylac Type : Caplet Size : Medium Colour : Shocking pink Purpose : This pill is administered when a patient has temporarily lost the use of one leg. It enables the patient to comfortably put all their bodyweight on the other leg for extended periods of time thereby increasing mobility. Contains extract of F

T-0 - Delhi My bandages were fresh, discharge set for 2PM and we waited. At 3 my consultant bade us au revoir and we were free but for the small matter of a large bill. A bill that in it's compilation took longer than The Domesday Book. First it was a two hour wait (incredulity) then another hour (incensement), wars have lasted less time. Indian efficiency and mindless, box-ticking beadledom was set to 11 and suddenly an extra hour on top of the 700ish already spent in the Apollo Hospital, Delhi seemed intolerable. We threatened (and nearly effected) a walkout which, credit to Indian resolve, speeded the process not one bit. I feel in hindsight and looking at the 37 page document that eventually arrived that the problem lay partially with the communication of the complexities of the task. How on earth the hospital accounted for 955 individual items on that bill I shall never know. From the syringe (7.7 rupees) and it's needle (3.1 rupees) to it's contents and the gloves th

Day T-2 - Delhi I've no love for private healthcare. For all its myriad imperfections the NHS can stand proudly (if not literally) next to the Great Pyramid as one of humankind's greatest wonders and most transcendent creations. Having been in the Indian health industry's life pricing clutches for the best part of a month i'm left faintly disappointed. For all intents and purposes and since I have insurance (thanks ma!) this experience differs very little from the one I would have had if I had thrown myself from a train back in the UK (or a less impossible but equally deleterious deed). Surely they're missing a trick here? My treatment won't be cheap but it has been standard, where are my choices? Wheres the menu Doc? I guess i'm getting the best the hospital offers but how can I be sure unless there are clearly deliniated tiers of care? Health tourism is growing massively not least in the Subcontinent but apart from competitive prices whats the USP? The

Day T-6 - Delhi There seems to be a lot of shouting coming from outside my window. Either there is maintenance going on or the hospital has realised how grossly underutilised the roof space is and has created a new ward out there populated by the most vocal patients. The hands of the clock draw slowly around its face, 40 hours on the same piece of furniture, surely a new personal record. My new(er) wheelchair (freshly pilfered from the 3rd floor, kudos Attendant) stands forlorn and empty. All pleas for early release on the grounds of good behaviour have been flatly denied. It might be just me but the less you can do for yourself the less of a person you actually feel. I sit up, I lie down, 90 degrees of movement, 6 degrees of separation  from the person you were. All high melodrama really but also an injection of sensation into a vacuum of stimuli. Anyway the doctors came and unwrapped my leg after 46 hours, a slow roast if ever there were one. For those of you more concerned with my

T-8 - Delhi I'm afraid the precise day of the trip on which we're on is impossible for me to pin down as time seems to pass in a different manner inside the walls of a hospital. I have therefore resorted to using possible days until discharge. Any stay beyond a few days in these places sees the familiar structure of your normal life break down or, more aptly, decay. The only constants would seem to be the times at which drugs are administered. Sleep is fitful and disjointed but is infinitely better than if I were on a ward with its perpetual twilight, its dimmed quiet. I like the isolation of this room, when the doors are closed it is my kingdom and I order it as I fancy. Of course there are limits to my power imposed by a pantheon of higher beings beyond the door. But they check my actions for my own good, benevolent gods if you will. I feel an odd contentedness this morning but I'm loathe to trust a feeling of positivity without knowing from whence it sprung. Has my fav

Further to my previous post you may be wondering how all those people find sufficient activities to fill their time. Well wonder no longer, the list of tasks for maintaining just this patient is innumerable.I have cataloged a random day from around a week ago up until lunchtime. N.b. 'peek' denotes when a hospital worker opens the door to look inside but does not actually enter the room (the purpose is never known), the number in brackets is persons required for task. 00:01 - 05:45 Drip stand check every 45 minutes or so 05:45 - Blood test 06:00 - Tea 06:05 - Sheet change 06:10 - Drip stand check/robe change 06:28 - Housekeeping (2) 06:45 - Blood pressure check 06:49 - Tea collection 07:07 - Drip stand check 07:10 - Papers 07:30 - Drip stand check 07:50 - Drip stand check 08:05 - Peek 08:08 - Drip stand check (2) 08:14 - Breakfast 08:18 - Doctor's questions 08:25 - Peek 08:27 - Drip stand check (2), blood test, breakfast collection 08:46 - Doctor's c

The Apollo Hospital in New Delhi employs a multitude of staff in various different roles. To aid in their visual differentiation they usually wear different coloured uniforms. I have described the types below according to my experience of them. Blue Shirts - Generally unpossessed of English or alternatively forbidden from talking to patients. Quite lowly, frequent surly look may indicate dissatisfaction and possibly plans of uprising against superiors. Known wheelchair thieves, always be sat in yours or have hidden it in toilet when a Blue Shirt is around. Red Shirts - Housekeeping. English also tends to be limited but is given freer rein than that of the Blue Shirts. If something must be picked up from the floor then these people must  be called, no-one else is qualified. Sometimes employed as limb support during bandage changes with varying degrees of efficacy. Yellow Shirts - Rarer than Red Shirts, possibly a sub species as have similar habits/habitats. Have not been observed

A day - Delhi I sit behind glass doors that won't be opened looking over a city that can't be explored. A famous philosopher once said that he'd rather be living in a cave looking at the Taj Mahal than living in the Taj looking at a cave, an interesting perspective. At least my confinement allows me to conjure fanciful notions of the world outside or, more accurately, my position within it. I am become detached from its ebb and flow, its bustle, its spin. My presence in that world is just that of an avatar, given life only by my imagination. All that I have ever done or ever might do seems superimposed when I look through the window at a planet that will not stop turning, where time will not stop ticking. Did I expect it to? Surely not! Such self-inflicted interludes have been my lot before. Perhaps never before though have I been so eager to to get on with the life that I have paused. But then of course I need only the briefest respite from daily reality to conceive the m