It’s just after five p.m. in Mumbai. It was a quiet day so far. I think most people stayed indoors. I could see the empty streets. Did not hear the usual hustle bustle. Residents of our neighboring apartment were busy cleaning their premises. Not a good idea. They did not have safe masks and I could trace their naked hands touching surfaces and faces. A bunch of boys were playing cricket in the garden. Defeating the purpose, I thought. Majority of Mumbaikars stayed home and that was heartening, even though I know it’s all or none that can help. At five p.m., the air was filled with loud noises of utensil banging, shankha naad (blowing the shell) and then the party began. The song ‘Go Corona’ was on air. Our loud and cheerful neighborhood came to their windows to thank the frontline workers who must work when it is safest to stay indoors. Frontline workers put their lives at risk and the world is appreciating it. Too bad my husband, Dr. Vishal, is in the Operation Theatre fixing a kid’s thigh bones. Vishal is a huge fan of the ‘Go Corona’ rap songs. The ingenuity brings a smile to his face. First it was being sung by a politician to scare away the virus and then several people chimed in with their creativity. Vishal gets tickled by every version of this virus eradicating song and thinks that I should get a sense of humor.
Dr. Vishal and an entire team of doctors, nurses and support staff had to go in to work this morning, defying the Janata curfew. This 17-year-old, Mr. X, had a road traffic injury day before yesterday at four a.m. He was out on a bike ride with two other friends. No helmets. All of them suffered injuries but Mr. X suffered the most and has been in the I.C.U. since 12 am yesterday. He bled into his abdomen. His cervical bones are severed. Both his thigh bones are fractured. He could not be operated on yesterday as they spent time stabilizing and keeping him alive. Last night at 9 pm, after attending to the other two kids and other patients, Vishal went to the I.C.U. to check on Mr. X, who wasn’t doing too well. He met with and explained to the relatives that the bones can be fixed only after their child is stable enough. As Vishal walked away from the hospital building, about forty relatives and friends of Mr. X confronted him. The hospital security came and stood with Vishal immediately. The friends and family were upset. They had brought in a continuous supply of expensive medicines all day long, but Mr. X wasn’t any better. Vishal explained to them that the injuries are serious and the doctors in the intensive care are doing everything they can. He could not pacify or convince them. They spoke louder and were demanding. Vishal knows kids will be kids and they do stupid things. Who could he blame and what would it resolve at the time? He had to say something though. He agreed that they had bought expensive medicines and told them that the medicines take time to act. In the meantime, he asked, if any of them had donated blood for Mr. X? Earlier in the day Vishal had requested the relatives to donate blood as Mr. X would most likely need it during surgery. He looked the entire crowd in eye and asked if one of them had donated blood? The blood bank was in the adjacent building. Not one had volunteered. Vishal asked them to back off, donate some blood and pray for Mr. X to get better. The alert security, in a jiffy, whisked Vishal away as they sensed the crowd had been caught off guard. Vishal came home after ten thirty p.m. and we spent the next forty-five minutes cleaning and alcohol swabbing everything from his wallet, phone and keys to door handles, and the taps and soap bottles he had touched to wash his hands before showering.
We are fighting a lost battle. Vishal laughs at my assumption that he is or will soon be infected. Yesterday morning we almost had a fight because he wasn’t singing ‘Happy Birthday’ as he washed his hands. He never will. I shadow him with a sanitizer. When our two-and-a-half-year-old neighbor knocks on our door, I don’t let her in. When Vishal is not at home, I open the door to her and fight another lost battle of telling her that she can’t see him for some time. She insists, Uncle Dikhao. Her way of asking to meet Vishal. They watch pictures of fish on the screensaver of our T.V. They play on Vishal’s watch every night. Reminds me, I should swab his watch too. I wipe the door every time Vishal leaves and enters home. I swab the elevator buttons on our floor. We are 30 people in the six apartments on our floor. There are four senior citizens of who three are diabetic. One young woman who is pregnant. As a public health person, I feel responsible.
Last night, as we were unwinding at eleven forty-five p.m., Vishal told me about his day. This morning we slept in and were woken up by a phone call. The physician taking care of Mr. X called to say that he had Mr. X stable enough for Vishal to look at the broken thigh bones. They are operating on the second thigh as I write this. Mr. X is doing good so far. Vishal is hopeful. When he gets home, he will enjoy my story of the ‘Go Corona’ song. I hope he will have a good story to tell me.
Vishal thinks I am crazy. I am not. Not yet. I dismiss my thought that most of our friends are doctors, some other friends are older and at equal and more risk. Other thoughts will make me anxious in as we wade through this pandemic. I take a deep breath before every hand washing demand. I know that when I am not with him, he will make errors. I know that I will make errors. I also know prevention is better than infection. Just like I know that the three kids on the bike would not be injured if stringent licensing and helmet laws were in place.
Tomorrow my maid Priyanka will come home. I asked her to stay home but she says she is family. We obsess together on cleaning. I offered to pay her husband his wages so that he can stay home. He refused. He will want to go back to work tomorrow unless people in leadership and decision-making capacities take responsibility and find solutions for the daily wages he may lose and for the risks that are unfolding globally. We are appreciative of the applaud and obedient gratitude shown for frontline workers by the ignorant who are in this pandemic as equals. From the global leadership, we expect more. We are in the midst of a pandemic that could have been prevented. The leadership are not doing everything possible to prevent the anticipated damage.
