Mending Broken Hearts

34. Lessons Learnt

June 2020 in Karachi, Pakistan

Omar

June 14: Pakistan Says Its COVID-19 Cases Could Rise to 1.2 Million by End of July (Voice of America)

Asad Umar, the head of the National Command and Operation Center (NCOC) directing Pakistan's battle against the virus, said Sunday the escalation in COVID-19 infections was a cause of grave concern for the government.

"Unless the current trend is reversed, our experts are telling us the number of cases could double by the end of June and could even reach one million to 1.2 million by the end July," Umar warned while addressing a news conference in Islamabad.

"Doctor Sahib, aap ke Abu ki breathing treatment ka time ho gaya hai," the male nurse attending to my father called out, making me look up from my laptop. (Doctor, its time for a breathing treatment for your father)

"Theek hai, sahi se betha ke dijiay ga," I replied and told him I'd be there in 5 mins. (Ok, make sure to have him sit up properly before giving it)

The living room just across Abu's room was where I had spent most of my time since landing in Karachi. Despite the closed door the persistent beeping of the monitors and the constant attention he needed, on top of me being jet lagged, meant that I hadn't gotten much sleep in the last 5 days that I had been here. He was about 10 days into his illness and his symptoms of breathlessness and his oxygen requirement were progressively getting worse. 

If he was in the US, he would be in the hospital. But here in Pakistan, there seemed to have been a sudden proliferation of concierge medicine capitalizing on the shortage of beds in actual hospitals. These were services that were provided by reasonably qualified doctors at home along with the required nursing support and lab testing support.

On the upside, it helped keep patients out of the already overcrowded hospitals. On the downside, this was yet another example of the stark difference between the 'haves' and the 'have-nots'. 

Those who could afford it, enjoyed the luxury of home, reduced risk of acquiring non-COVID infections, and had access to loved ones without the usual hospital restrictions. Not to mention that they were able to access vital supplies like oxygen tanks by paying triple or quadruple the usual price by buying them on the black market.

Those who could not afford it, stayed alone in the hospitals that were already beyond their capacity, as overworked and underpaid doctors scrambled in dire circumstances. 

When I had landed, things had been extremely tense in the city of Karachi, which at the time seemed to be the epicenter of COVID in Pakistan. In fact, the entire province of Sindh was leading the country in COVID cases. The Government of Pakistan had only opened up 25% of their airspace, and had implemented a number of measures to screen incoming passengers for COVID. 

Things at home had not been any less tense. Ami had not bothered mentioning anything about my arrival to Abu. And so when I walked into his room after a 20+ hour flight, and another 2 hours in immigration, customs and then the COVID entry protocol, he took one look at me and growled, "Why is he here?"

Clearly, he wasn't on death's door as was described to me and I was ready to turn around and get on the next flight back to Chicago, except that I remembered Madi's last text messages to me just before my flight took off. 

It may not be easy, but remember the reward you will get from Allah by taking care of your parents.

So try to keep an open mind.

No matter what happens, I will always love you.

Those were the words I leaned on heavily, trying to keep an open mind when my mother explained that he had been under a lot of stress lately which is why she thought he had gotten COVID in the first place. She didn't want to agitate him further by mentioning me.