Bihar -an electric tale

What a brilliant 24 hours it turned out to be.

During a WhatsApp catch-up with Dr Samuel Murmu, who runs Bamdah Mission Hospital in Bihar -‘Jungle Hospital’ in both my books -  he told me:
‘There is a problem with the AC (air conditioner) in the OT (operating theatre). It is more than ten years old. We tried gas refilling but it is still overheating.’

This was all the more upsetting because, only about 18 months ago, the village of Bamdah and most villages in Jamui district in Bihar, had experienced the luxury of having mains electricity supplies, all day and all night. Prior to this the hospital had managed with generators and inverters to ensure that they could continue their work. The doctors’ bungalow where we always stay was often lit only by oil lamps.

Now there is bijalee (electricity) in the villages of Bihar!
This might well be the most appreciated achievement of the state government.

But what to do about that misbehaving air-conditioner?

Temperatures in rural north India are creeping up by the day, already over 100 degrees. In spite of this, the operating schedule at all our partner hospitals in Bihar remain busy.

I will just digress to tell you that Bamdah Hospital’s  OT is my favourite operating theatre in all of India. (The building was erected back in the early 20th century to replace the original, smaller OT which dated back to the very beginning of Bamdah Hospital in 1885).

It is a spacious, circular building with a high ceiling and tall windows. Surgical protocol requires well-demarcated areas of sterility and a strict no-touch technique. This can often turn operating theatres into impersonal, unfriendly, often silent and rather scary places for patients. Yet in Bamdah’s OT you feel as if an invisible and kindly giant is enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

Indeed, so relaxed was my friend Adrian when brought here a few years ago, that he managed to overcome his phobia for watching eye surgery at close quarters and accepted Dr Samuel’s invitation to stand beside him, watch surgical instruments go in and out of the eye and be talked through each step of a cataract operation. He even peered down the microscope to see what it was like from a surgeon’s perspective.

But now, the air-conditioner was letting us all down. And the mercury was climbing. In the main hospital one can fling open doors and windows and let in the breezes from the cool verandas. Patients can sleep outside to keep cool. The doors of the operating theatre, however, need to remain closed. And in the summer it is impossible to survive for long under surgical gowns, masked and gloved, in such conditions. As for anxious patients sweltering under the theatre drapes and trying not to move, well you can imagine how hard that is.
Dr Samuel’s last words in the WhatsApp were –‘not sure how you can help.’

Later that day, I was tapping away on my computer and one of those inexplicable things happened. I am sure that many of you have experienced this too. I hit a key without planning to and lo and behold it took me to another section of my email. Totally random.

I found myself reading a mail dating back a few years. It was from a retired GP, a British Indian, who had a little bit of money in a bank account in India. I remembered that he had ended up paying for a much-needed motorbike for a key outreach worker at Bamdah Hospital.

Now, the croupier of the universe had seemingly spun the wheel, and Serendipity stepped in. Or possibly.

The replacement air-conditioner would cost 60,000 Indian rupees – that’s about £580 at today’s rates. Would this nice man who had been generous before, be generous again?

I asked.
He replied by return mail. He said yes.
The money was transferred.
Bamdah would get its new AC.
All this in the space of 24 hours.

So now, picture the scene at the jungle hospital, in the months to come.

In the cool of the operating theatre Dr Samuel will complete the last operation, change back into his normal clothes without having to peel off theatre garb soaked in sweat, and walk across the compound to his bungalow. Above his head the black Ibis will be screeching from the tops of the tall palm trees and the monkeys will be scuttling across the expansive grounds teasing the dogs and making the patients smile. Dr Samuel will walk through his garden, round to the back of the house, and enjoy a well-earned cup of chai, looking out onto the mango trees whose fruit will be shared amongst staff and patients in May.

Back in the operating theatre, one of the nurses will reach up to switch off the AC.

Well done Everybody!

Lucy Mathen

#whatadifferenceadaymakes  #smalliseffective #outgrowingthebig #bijaleeforbihar