Today is the second Friday without Fasih. Fridays are the the toughest, as it was that fateful Friday on 26 June when Fasih was taken away from us. I know Fridays will haunt me rest of my life.
He was in the hospital for 5 days. Thats all. He kept updating in few words about his wellbeing. And kept reassuring us he was fine. A message from ‘Syed’ on the group was the happiest moment Fatima, Ismail and I waited for all the time, especially early in the morning, when he would ask the doctor to give him special favour to allow him to message the family.
I often go back to our family messenger group watch his messages, where Fasihs messages kept coming from hospital till he was in ICU but not ventilated.
To all his visitors who went to see him from the glass window he waved a thumbs up.
Mazhar messaged Fatima, “Bobby chachoo is a fighter he is facing it with courage and positivity. And he will sail through.”
Fasih was fortunate to have been given a state of the art care that followed WHO protocol. He was one of the rare in Pakistan, who even recievd Remdesivir. As a healthprofessional and a wife myself, a million details arise in my mind, knowing how involved Fasih was in his own management.
My heart wrenches imagining the visual image of the moment he must have been intubated. And the imagination of what conversation must have taken place between an ICU Consultant and a Pulmonologist patient being told that he is going to be intubated, and how must he have agreed to it.
A pulmonologist himself who was known for being the most skilled and famous for performing a super smooth intubation to his patients.
How smooth or not must have been his own intubation?
Once ventilated, with general anaesthesia my man slept peacefully, and his messages to us also fell silent.
Even the moment Kosar Baji called me to say, “Bobby has just had a cardiac arrest and they are giving him DC shock.”
I called Fatima and we both were so sure he will get back the heart beat.
He himself had managed a couple of cardiac arrests as a team where the persons had come back and lived for decades. But nothing worked. 2 DC shocks and 30 min of CPR, all proved in vain. Sigh !
My robust, healthy, superfit husband who had absolutely NO comorbidity had to be ventialted in last 2 days of his life and ventilator which he called a life saver to his own patients, could not save him.
Why? Why? Why?
I know why. It is because of those wretched reckless evils who continued to go for Eid shopping, iftars, eid milans and congregational prayers in mosques. How much of a grudge i hold against them, no one can imagine. I will not forgive them.
Even now, my blood boils seeing shopping centers full, ladies thronging stores for Eid discounts. I will never be able to wish well these shopping and party and congregation obsessed morons, who are making known and unknown doctors, healthworkers sick or dead on a daily basis. For no fault of their own.
There are some other health professionals who I know are going through symptoms currently. Some are waiting to get infected, because as a friend today remarked, “Ultimately we all will get it. Virus is not going anywhere. And people are not getting any sense.”
I am so bitter that honestly I want to tell frontline doctors in places where people and govts are not interested in lockdowns,
“Dear docs bund karo mareez dekhna. Jo merna chahtey hain unko bachane ki kya zaroorat hai? Daffa karo proffessional duty. Apni jaanon ko aisey logon ke liye khatm kerne ka koi faayeda nahin hai.”
Let them taste the medicine of their own doing.