I was suffering from fever, with severe shivers, for about a week without any sight of remission. My daughter-in-law, a doctor, said that for an 82-year-old person with diabetes, the illness seemed serious and took me to one of the top hospitals of the city in our neighbourhood. The consultant professor physician, who looked tough and taciturn, examined me in earnest and looked at documents of my previous treatment of prostate surgery at a clinic not known for hygiene and cleanliness. He suspected infection and at once prescribed blood and urine culture exams and an antibiotic injection. He said I needed to be hospitalised, and that he would pass instructions for my admission next morning. Next morning, at 9 am, I reported to the admissions office of the hospital and showed the admission clerk the consultant physician's prescription. The lady said that without his written instructions, she could not admit me. I asked her to get in contact with the doctor, to which she said that she was not permitted to call him. I was puzzled. My son moved from pillar to post to get hold of him and at last at 10 am found him doing his daily rounds.

I was duly admitted in a shared cabin. It was 10.30 in the morning, and I asked the nurse to immediately push the prescribed antibiotic injection as I was on a 12 hourly dose of injection and the last dose I took was at 10 pm last night. The nurse said that she had called the doctor on duty, without whose order, she could not get delivery of the medicine. I reminded the nurse at 11 o' clock about the need of getting the injection urgently. She said she had again called he doctor. I again reminded the nurse at 12 noon and her reply was the same. At last at 1 pm, the young doctor showed up and asked me why I had not brought the injection from home. I was flabbergasted. With raised brows, I looked at him and quipped, "Do I need to?" He said that there is usually procedural delay in starting the treatment. I retorted, "Does the procedural delay indicate the absence of the doctor on duty?" He left the room in a huff with an angry look and never visited me again.

It was 1 pm the following day. The nurse did not check my blood sugar, temperature or blood pressure. When asked, she replied that she was under the impression that the nurses on night duty might have taken the tests. I asked her if there was no rule to put on record the results of the tests at the duty register. She gave me a vacant look.

I am a diabetic patient, and the hospital is expected to provide me a diabetic diet. Normally, my fasting blood sugar test is between 7 and 8. Suddenly it rose to 8 and 9. I discovered sugar in tea and the firni (sweet dish) provided to me, although I had asked the nurse several times to inform the food department that I was a diabetic patient. When called, a person from the food department said that there was some confusion of identity and apologised for the mistake. 

The professor seemed like a good doctor. Luckily, my fever had gone. He said that he would be discharging me the next morning. My son, an IT consultant, repeatedly requested the doctor on duty to prepare the discharge report and the bill by 11 the next morning, as he had to attend an urgent meeting at the World Bank at noon that day. But despite repeated reminders, the discharge report was not available until 1 pm. The wait was exasperating and the hospital could care less.

The cost of treatment at the hospital I am talking about is very high and patients expect the hospital to provide world class healthcare. Doctors and nurses at the hospital, however, seem remote with a sense of clinical detachment.  

The hospital walls are plastered with photos of the late philanthropic founder of the hospital. Has his dream and vision come true? The hospital has clearly degenerated into a commercial proposition. Apparently, there is a decline in efficiency. There is a lack of supervision and accountability. Yet, doctors of our country have earned name and fame in England, America and Australia. With a little more dedication, sincerity and seriousness by the doctors and other staff, and strong oversight and administrative checks and balances, there is no reason why the hospital cannot be turned into an international hospital, on par with those of Singapore or Thailand.

As I was leaving the hospital, I reminisced about the days when hospitals like the Dhaka Medical College Hospital actually took care of their patients with utmost care and warmth. As a patient admitted in a two-rupee per day ward in 1962, I was nevertheless treated like a lord. My surgeon, Professor Alam, always had a smile during his daily rounds. A little genuine concern for their patients, a bit more warmth, diligence and attention to the patients' needs cannot be so impossible to deliver that the hospitals, be it private or public, and doctors of today, completely do away with them, focussing instead on profits over devotion or commitment. 

The writer is a former diplomat.