My admission to ILBS was far from easy. The Covid restrictions had already caused numerous issues, and my elevated ammonia levels only exacerbated the situation. When I arrived at ILBS, everything seemed surreal to me. I was in such a distressed mental state that, even though I was physically inside the ILBS premises, it felt as if I were standing in a building next door to my home in Varanasi. Given my deep-seated suspicions about my family—fueled by a belief that they were trying to harm me or send me to a rehabilitation center—the ILBS building appeared to me like a stage set, with everyone playing roles orchestrated by my brother.
ILBS was not accepting new admissions at the time, but my brother managed to arrange for my admission through some of his political connections. The hospital was crowded, and many faces seemed eerily familiar to me. I even saw people I knew—like friends and relatives—dressed as doctors and nurses, laughing at me. Everything felt so staged and fake that I just wanted to escape. Despite my apprehensions, I reluctantly agreed to enter the emergency ward. The doctors reviewed my reports, asked a few questions, and then requested that I lie down on the bed. Distrustful of the situation, I fled from the ward. I told my family that the entire scenario felt staged, that the ILBS hospital didn’t seem real, and I refused to be admitted there.
I was shouting, crying, and pleading with people around me for help. Others tried to convince me that the hospital was indeed the real ILBS and urged me to stay, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe them and fled. I ran about 200 meters from the hospital, then called the Delhi police to inform them of my location and urgently request their assistance. I also reached out to a relative and a friend named Sharad, desperately asking them to help me. They contacted my wife, who then explained my situation to them.
They called me back, suggesting that I should get admitted to the hospital. By that point, I had lost hope and was just waiting for the police to arrive. Despite my resistance, my brother managed to convince me to return to the hospital, and this time I lay down on the bed. However, I still felt distrustful; as they checked my blood pressure, the machine appeared to me as though it were fake. I told them I believed they were trying to create a placebo effect with what seemed like a toy machine. Overcome by my suspicions, I jumped off the bed and fled once more.
This time, I moved even further away and waited for the police to arrive. My brother appeared again and urged me to come with him, but I had lost all trust in him. It was the last week of April, and with temperatures around 45 degrees Celsius, I was shivering from the cold, feeling extremely dizzy, and eventually collapsed on the ground. I wanted to escape again, but my brother held me back and said he would wait with me for the police. Despite my pleas to let me go, he insisted that the police would decide what to do next.
After a while, the police arrived at the hospital. They spoke with my wife, who explained my situation, and then they came to find me. Seeing the police walking toward me with my wife only deepened my conviction that they were all part of my brother’s scheme. I was convinced that my brother had somehow manipulated them as well, leaving me feeling that I had no choice but to surrender. When the policeman approached me, I explained that I believed my family was trying to harm me. However, the policeman told me that I was unwell and that it would be best for me to be admitted to the hospital.
I told the policeman that I only wanted to go to ILBS, and he assured me that this was indeed the real ILBS hospital. He also promised to take responsibility for my safety and assured me that he would hold my family accountable if anything happened to me. Despite my doubts, I felt I had no other option, so the police helped get me admitted to the hospital. When I arrived, the hospital staff seemed prepared for my arrival. As soon as I lay down on the bed, they immediately secured my legs and hands with restraints.
ILBS is a semi-private hospital, known for its high costs. The average expenditure for a patient in the emergency ward is around ₹40,000 per day. In the general ward, it ranges between ₹10,000 and ₹15,000 per day. For the HDU ward, the cost is about ₹50,000 to ₹60,000 per day, and in the ICU or liver coma unit, it can reach around ₹1,00,000 per day. These costs were explained to my brother before my admission.
I know that it would have been be a significant financial burden on him since I had no money, yet he agreed to cover the expenses. My brother works in tourism, an industry severely impacted by Covid, and his office had been closed, leaving him without a steady income. Despite this, he still chose to support me financially. Without his help, it would have been impossible for me to survive that night.
Conclusion:
1:Liver diseases can also lead to severe mental health issues, and it’s crucial for caretakers to be aware of this. Please try not to be angry with the patient or think poorly of them. They need understanding and reassurance. Simply listening to them and helping them feel secure can make a significant difference, allowing them to stay calm and cope better.
2: If there’s anyone who can offer you help in a crisis, it’s ultimately going to be your family.
To be continued in Part 7…..