In the dead of the night, suddenly I got my lesson in rather a hard way. The old maxim that “health is wealth” rings true indeed.
The sound of agony woke me up from my slumber on that one particular night. Searching for the sound, I saw my husband was ashen white. Writhing and wriggling in pain, he clutched his stomach tightly. It’s only seconds to run, before he started to vomit, emptying all the former scrumptious foodie we ate earlier out of his bowel.
The stench sent my stomach to churn as I knelt beside him to offer any comfort to ease his torment. I brew some tea to no avail. Once it entered his stomach, it came back in a waste.
Panicking, I called my brother to come to bring us to nearest hospital. Luckily, my home was only a few kilometres away from his. Arriving at hospital, we took him immediately to the ER. The first thing to hit me in the room was the stale stench of chlorine and blood.
Then, we heard screaming and groaning from the far off bed where a group of nurses and doctor tended a patient. It really sent a shiver through my skin. We waited a few minutes before getting admitted. The nurse examined him carefully, asking this and that. Minutes later, she came with an intravenous (IV) and injection kits. His nausea and affliction abated once he was treated. He remained in observation for two hours.
When dawn broke, the doctor said he was allowed to go home. It was only minor food poisoning. I was releived. A few days of proper medication and care at home should mend his health again, the doctor said.
As I was waiting for the outpatient medical prescription, I couldn’t help to overhear the arguments of the medics with family members of one of the ER patients. It appeared that the patient was in need for a surgery. Yet, the medics refused to do so without the family first settling the administration procedures for payment. Asking for leniency, they were told to negotiate with the administration officers at front office.
At a glance I saw frustration and desperation in their eyes as if the earth they stood on shook with an earthquake. While at the same time, sympathy and helplessness in the the medics didn’t escape my eye either. Without money or solid guarantee, they could not perform their task. It was a dilemma like eating simalakama fruit, our ancestors once said. The sacred code of honour for medical staffs is to save lives. The harsh reality however often binds their hands to do so as without money the hospital will suffer a loss. Both parties suffer the same ordeal.
Receiving the bills, I was electrified. It was way too expensive even to my steady income. It almost cost us a million rupiah. The bills choked me! Oh dear Lord, what about those who suffer the scarcity of income?
Surely, they could not afford such skyrocketing medical service. Is health reserved only for the wealthy? This is just so unfair L. Thanks God, my company provides health insurance. But for low-income families, they would not be so fortunate. They will be left with no health insurance options whatsoever. They barely survive to live a hand to mouth. They would be forced to cry tears of blood to get proper surgery or any other medical services which charge higher and higher prices.
Health becomes expensive and unreachable for the poor. Therefore, the program such as the Jakarta Health Card (JKS) is really beneficial and helpful to give the less fortunate people access to medical services. Despite its shortcoming, the program should be lauded with praise and improved continuously. It is the responsibility of the government to care for their citizens.
That night, I realize how expensive health is. It is health everyone seeks after. Without it, wealth or fame means zero. As I spend days shuttling between hospital and home, subjecting the body to one test after another trying to find out what has gone wrong, I am forced to remember that Health is indeed Wealth. It is truly a divine bless, untradeable at whatever cost!
The sound of agony woke me up from my slumber on that one particular night. Searching for the sound, I saw my husband was ashen white. Writhing and wriggling in pain, he clutched his stomach tightly. It’s only seconds to run, before he started to vomit, emptying all the former scrumptious foodie we ate earlier out of his bowel.
The stench sent my stomach to churn as I knelt beside him to offer any comfort to ease his torment. I brew some tea to no avail. Once it entered his stomach, it came back in a waste.
Panicking, I called my brother to come to bring us to nearest hospital. Luckily, my home was only a few kilometres away from his. Arriving at hospital, we took him immediately to the ER. The first thing to hit me in the room was the stale stench of chlorine and blood.
Then, we heard screaming and groaning from the far off bed where a group of nurses and doctor tended a patient. It really sent a shiver through my skin. We waited a few minutes before getting admitted. The nurse examined him carefully, asking this and that. Minutes later, she came with an intravenous (IV) and injection kits. His nausea and affliction abated once he was treated. He remained in observation for two hours.
When dawn broke, the doctor said he was allowed to go home. It was only minor food poisoning. I was releived. A few days of proper medication and care at home should mend his health again, the doctor said.
As I was waiting for the outpatient medical prescription, I couldn’t help to overhear the arguments of the medics with family members of one of the ER patients. It appeared that the patient was in need for a surgery. Yet, the medics refused to do so without the family first settling the administration procedures for payment. Asking for leniency, they were told to negotiate with the administration officers at front office.
At a glance I saw frustration and desperation in their eyes as if the earth they stood on shook with an earthquake. While at the same time, sympathy and helplessness in the the medics didn’t escape my eye either. Without money or solid guarantee, they could not perform their task. It was a dilemma like eating simalakama fruit, our ancestors once said. The sacred code of honour for medical staffs is to save lives. The harsh reality however often binds their hands to do so as without money the hospital will suffer a loss. Both parties suffer the same ordeal.
Receiving the bills, I was electrified. It was way too expensive even to my steady income. It almost cost us a million rupiah. The bills choked me! Oh dear Lord, what about those who suffer the scarcity of income?
Surely, they could not afford such skyrocketing medical service. Is health reserved only for the wealthy? This is just so unfair L. Thanks God, my company provides health insurance. But for low-income families, they would not be so fortunate. They will be left with no health insurance options whatsoever. They barely survive to live a hand to mouth. They would be forced to cry tears of blood to get proper surgery or any other medical services which charge higher and higher prices.
Health becomes expensive and unreachable for the poor. Therefore, the program such as the Jakarta Health Card (JKS) is really beneficial and helpful to give the less fortunate people access to medical services. Despite its shortcoming, the program should be lauded with praise and improved continuously. It is the responsibility of the government to care for their citizens.
That night, I realize how expensive health is. It is health everyone seeks after. Without it, wealth or fame means zero. As I spend days shuttling between hospital and home, subjecting the body to one test after another trying to find out what has gone wrong, I am forced to remember that Health is indeed Wealth. It is truly a divine bless, untradeable at whatever cost!
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