Boasting western standards of healthcare, CMC Vellore has a strong ethos to make healthcare available for all, even to the poorest of the poor.
“When you have a problem, go to Vellore.”
Dr Sunil Abraham of the LCECU (Low Cost, Effective Care Unit), remarks proudly, “It’s capitalism that works”. In this department, patients only pay as much as they can afford, but at the same time, have access to sophisticated investigations like echo-cardiograms and the latest microbiological tests. Even so, I was quite amused to see Dr Abraham collect money from the patients.
Let me take you on a brief tour of this department.
At the entrance, you’re greeted by the sleepy gaze of a cow
“Here in the LCEC, we doctors are the cashiers as well” – Dr Abraham with his money box
A patient with Psoriasis, a skin condition (pretty obvious!) I was told that there was improvement from the last consultation
setting oneself alight is not the way to go! At least slitting writs or taking pills would be less painless.” I thought to myself. Shruti, a Canadian on elective explained that Indians have a penchant for the dramatic. That made sense.
And then, we had a patient come in complaining of...guess what? Back pain. He was the guy who prepared my sweet Indian tea in the morning at the hospital cafeteria. The fact that he was complaining of something so common place made me feel that the consultation room was like anything you would find in Melbourne.
Our tea maker with his X-ray up on against a natural light box
On Saturday, I had to go to the main hospital, the gargantuan 2000+ bed CMC Vellore to pay my elective fees. I was fortunate enough to have a guide – Shruti. Being the premier institution for healthcare in South Asia, great crowds throng the hospital grounds. The hospital serves in excess of 50 000 patients each day.
Crowds thronging the entrance of CMC Vellore
“Most of these patients are not from Vellore”, says Shruti.
A boy selling one of those blowy party things at the hospital across the road from the hospital
That evening, we were treated to a rendition of Beauty and the Beast. To my surprise, there was hardly a hint of the typical ‘Indian accent’. Russell Peters floated to mind,
“You think Indians don’t know that we sound funny? Let me tell you, vee do it on purpose!”
I’ve always loved college musicals. Regardless of what others might say about the quality of the singing or acting, I’m constantly amazed at how mere students can string together a performance, complete with costumes, backdrop, lighting, dance and music. My favourite was the candlestick.
Foreground: a girl on the edge of the stage, mesmerised by the unfolding drama. Background: my candlestick
Halfway through, a dog ran up onto the stage, adding to the drama. I guess this could only happen in India!
Sunday evening came, and I sat through the institutions Baccalaureate service for the graduating batch of students. An esteemed professor exhorted the students to resist the temptation to be lured by the increasing commercialisation of medicine, to serve rather than to be served, and to be visionaries of change in a world fraught with greed, injustice and inequality. I reflected on my past 3 years in the University of Melbourne, and realised that I had yet to meet a professor who would model this, and exhort us to do the same.
As my BigW slippers flicked the specks of dirt onto my calves, a familiar tune waffled through the night air. “Go light the world” was being played over the auditorium speakers.
“Where Lord, where?”
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