Riddhi Naik
Bambolim, India

It was an ordinary day on the medicine ward. As a second-year medical student, my responsibility was to take patient histories, so I approached the bed assigned to me. There I interviewed a 75-year-old man with ischemic heart disease, and he was cooperative and answered questions appropriately. When I asked why he had come to the hospital, he reported having breathlessness and chest pain. He had tried traditional remedies, but they had not helped. At first, he appeared oriented and responded appropriately. However, when I asked about his family, he said he had none and lived alone. I found this deeply saddening. The thought of an elderly man managing a household and coping with heart disease by himself was stressful and troubling.

Growing up in a joint family, this concept of being completely responsible for oneself, especially in old age, seemed alien to me. I believe the elderly need younger generations as much as younger generations need the elderly. They need each other to live better lives. Younger generations keep the elderly connected to the world, preventing social isolation. Older generations can help younger generations by sharing their life experiences and offering valuable lessons for living better lives. Most importantly, a person with heart disease should not be living alone, and not to forget that old age is often associated with cognitive decline. His sense of judgement is not at its best, and life has found him at a vulnerable spot.

Our conversation was going just fine when suddenly he picked up a bottle of water from the side table. He opened it, and the bottle cap fell between his legs. He then began to search for it with his hands alone while his eyes wandered. I realized he was trying to find the cap, so I told him where it was. He seemed to hear me but could not process my words and kept moving his hands on the bed, blankly. So, I repeated myself again and again. Just then, a girl who looked close to my age came in to check his papers. I assumed she was the resident doctor since she was wearing a white coat. Seeing what was going on, she joined in, helped, and told him to straighten his legs. Surprisingly, the patient passed urine and almost fainted. He would have hit his head if the girl had not held it. I watched, thinking the girl, as the resident doctor, would take care of the situation, when suddenly the intern with me said she was a physiotherapist.

I felt that now it was my responsibility to save the patient, and a one-second delay in calling his doctor would threaten his life. So, I ran to call a junior resident while the nursing student next to me ran to call the head nurse. The doctor came in and did not understand what had happened to the patient. Then the patient suddenly regained consciousness, and the doctor asked what had happened; he replied that he was perfectly fine. He did not seem able to answer any questions and looked blankly at the ceiling. The resident doctor told me to take some other case. The next day, when I came to the wards, the patient was not there. The intern told me he had been shifted to another ward.

I wondered what would happen to him. Being so old and alone, he could be easily tricked and manipulated by anyone. It must be a scary place in life to be in—to know you have no one you can call your own and make the right decision for you when you are not able to do so, or help when you cannot help yourself. I once again realized what a privilege it is to have a family. I hope life is kinder to him in some other ways and that his final chapter ends on a good note.