As the ambulance sped towards the emergency ward, I braced myself for another challenging night ahead. It was almost time to start my shift, and I look at my watch to see that it was already 2 am. I had been working for nearly 15-16 hours, with another exhausting 8 hours to go before I could finally complete my 36-hour shift at the ER. Sleep was a luxury I couldn't afford, as the anticipation and anxiety of the next case kept me on edge. To break the boredom, I would take a walk around the ward, grabbing a cup of tea or coffee, or simply a sip of water if it was available at that odd hour. During these walks, I would often come across individuals lying at the entrance, some appearing half-drunk or possibly under the influence of drugs. It was hard to predict. There were also a few men celebrating some event, proudly raising their alcohol bottles, sodas, and plates of deep-fried meat. I could faintly hear remarks being made, though I couldn't recall the exact words. They weren't offensive, but they were certainly unnecessary for a young girl who had been diligently working for hours.
Women were a rare sight in this environment. The only women I would encounter were my colleagues and the hardworking nurses, who were equally, if not more, exhausted than I was. Thankfully, we had a group of supportive male classmates, who would come to our aid within minutes of a phone call or text, even if they were resting at the hostel, after enduring their own 36-hour shifts. Their presence provided a sense of comfort.
There were moments when people would become angry and engage in heated arguments simply because they didn't understand or feared the unknown. Some would refuse crucial treatments while demanding insignificant requests. I could never quite comprehend the mindset of these individuals seeking healthcare, along with their company of attendants and relatives. They would enter as if entitled to our services and leave dissatisfied, even if they received exceptional care. Our supplies were often inadequate, and the equipment frequently malfunctioned. Yet, the blame would unfairly fall on us or the nurses. Despite the challenges, we adapted and attributed the shortcomings to poor management or governmental negligence, persevering in our duties.
These experiences were not isolated incidents; my colleagues had also faced similar, if not more hurtful, situations. Some stories were shared, while others remained untold. Why didn't we express our astonishment? Why didn't we complain? Why didn't we make it an issue? It wasn't because we were unaffected. We were, without a doubt. But we chose to remain silent, attributing it to the location of our college, the unconventional working hours, and our unfortunate presence due to the demands of our work.
This is the reality of being an intern in almost any government college. We endure grueling work hours and face the taunts of a few professors, all while preparing for the daunting entrance exams that lie ahead. We rarely raised our voices because we simply didn't have the time or energy to deal with those who were not on the same level as us.
If any of us had spoken up, raised our voices, or demanded better working conditions, perhaps things would be different today. If we had brought these disturbing incidents to the attention of the management, maybe it would have become a norm to create a safe space for us. If we had stood up against the disrespectful comments that were made, perhaps the life that was unjustly taken from us would still be here, completing another sweaty 36-hour shift after a brief respite. If we had refused to work in an environment where alcoholics freely roamed without anyone to stop them, maybe she would have had a safer place to walk during her 2 am dinner break. We considered ourselves brave, at least that's what we believed as we worked through the toughest times and glorified it as "THE DOCTOR LIFE."
But collectively, we failed. We normalized trauma, long and exhausting duty hours, unhealthy work environments, and the absence of personal time, all in pursuit of the next entrance exam, the next grand test, the next branch or college, and the financial means to join a good coaching institute. We were always running towards the next academic and career milestone, while the trauma we endured effortlessly, most of which nobody even remembers, went unnoticed because everyone was too busy. Until this incident happened. It affected everyone differently and brought our family together, standing united as we fight for the person who was taken away from us unethically and brutally.
Writing this fills my heart with pain, imagining myself in her place. No words can ease this anguish.
Family of Healers: In Pursuance of a Reform!