My tryst with a private
hospital
One summer day, trudging long,
bumpy, serpentine miles, I landed at an elite private hospital in Haryana on a
sad and sultry morn with a slightly enlarged prostate. The hospital’s name and
fame, and above all, my personal acquaintance with the doctor had made me brush
aside other options. Neither a reasonably good private hospital in my own
hometown nor even top ones in the neighbouring Panjab or the UT could override
the wisdom and logic of this choice.
I underwent the suggested blood
and urine tests with alacrity and willing readiness in the squeaky-clean,
AC-cooled environs with the smartly turned out, eye-pleasing staff making it
all look so crisp and cool. The reports came out normal and I went in a relaxed,
happy frame of mind on the scheduled day for the last of the tests– ‘prostate
biopsy’.
Though a little embarrassing, the
young lady doctor deputed for biopsy made the thrust of the ‘sample probe’ feel
less painful with her soft, comforting words. But the real pain came when my
better half, looking distraught, brought the bill. It was a hefty 46000 rupees
and not “15000 or so” as I had been informed earlier, albeit casually and
speculatively. Stretched on a bed and horrified, I asked her to have it rechecked
for errors. “No, it is absolutely correct, they say,” she said returning
moments later, shaken and sad. Since my discharge had already been overly
delayed and we had to leave, I paid the bill, vowing to seek clarification on
my next visit.
My next visit happened about two
weeks later. The biopsy report was ok, and my (personally known) doctor
prescribed me the medicine with the ususal 'dos and don’ts'. After thanking him I told him
in a mildly complaining tone about the bill. “46,000?” he said, visibly
surprised. But, oddly, to my consternation, a moment later, thumbing through the
papers, he began bamboozling me with medical jargon and concluded that the
amount charged was in fact correct and in order. When I tried to reason out, he
lost his cool. “You are a very strange fellow?! Why don’t you understand?
Didn’t I tell you the cost escalation is because of 12 samples instead of six?”
Crestfallen, I collected my papers and hastened out of the room. Heading straight to the office I then confronted
the billing official. He too tried to obfuscate and evade the issue. But I
persisted, pestering him to justify these charges and the yawning difference
with the cost mentioned earlier. Finding me upset and undeterred, good sense
prevailed over him and he got busy on the phone making enquiries. Finally,
looking up, he mumbled, “You will get some refund,” adding after a pause,
“about 22 thousand rupees.” Our anxious
wait in the lobby ended when he returned many long minutes later and told us
that the refund due to me was 28000 rupees. Overwhelmed and joyous, with my
pocket thus warmed with this tidy sum, I thanked him profusely for his efforts
and for seeing reason. Next, we hurried to a mall, shopped and watched our own
Kangna Ranaut’s new movie TWMR, and triumphantly drove back home next morning.
Later, I took up with the
hospital’s MD the matter of overbilling and the likely fate of the gullible
patients descending on this hospital with trust and hope. The MD was candid in
admitting error and profuse in uttering apologies. But my subsequent queries
specifically about the doctor’s fake justification and a further claim of
refund (for, serendipitously, I had found proof of another patient charged much
less for the same procedure), was answered with a grim, stony silence.
Well the reply never came despite
reminders. But the bold, vibrant slogans on the hospital site – “ethical,
humane and transparent work culture”, “compassionate care”- resonate and
resound in my ears causing anguish and pain.
Moral of the story: Don’t take
slogans and mottos at their face value, more so when it relates to corporate
hospitals.
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The book I finished reading this month
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The book I am reading now
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Next-to-read books on the shelf
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