“So, tomorrow you’re going home?” I asked gently, turning to my patient—a 48-year-old woman fighting advanced breast cancer. The disease had spread to her liver and abdomen, leading to fluid buildup, and she had been admitted for an abdominal tap and basic blood work. Now, she was eager to return home.
She was frail, her body ravaged by illness. At just 30 kilograms, she was visibly emaciated, her muscles wasted to the point that even simple daily tasks required help. Getting out of bed, walking, climbing stairs—each was an ordeal.
“You’ll be taking a bus back to Chandrapur?” I asked, referring to her hometown, about 120 kilometers from Sevagram. For most patients from nearby towns, the bus is the default means of travel.
Before she could respond, her husband interjected. “No,” he said firmly. “I’ll take her home on our motorcycle.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. “Why not take the bus? It’s a smoother journey—almost hourly service, and in just three hours, you’d be home comfortably.”
He explained patiently, his voice a mix of practicality and quiet concern. “We used to take the bus when she came here for chemotherapy and radiation. But now she’s too tired. The bus journey is exhausting—getting into an auto-rickshaw in Wardha, then walking a bit to reach the hospital. It’s too much for her. One day, she asked to try the motorcycle instead. She feels more relaxed and comfortable when I drive her home.”
I looked at them—he, determined and supportive; she, leaning on him in more ways than one. I could only smile.
As doctors, we rarely stop to ask where our patients come from, how they make a living, what their lives look like beyond the hospital walls. Too often, we rely on shortcuts—assessing socioeconomic status by glancing at a Below Poverty Line (BPL) card or the color of a ration card.
But beyond the labs, scans, biopsies, and medicines lie these everyday realities. And they matter. Patients and their families often carry burdens no medical report shows—like worries about travel , fears for the future, or the challenges of dealing with hospitals.
Taking a moment to ask, to listen, to truly connect—it’s a small gesture, but one that can mean the world to them.
We must talk with our patients, not at them. Only then can we truly see the human side of medicine.
