Update on my father's heart condition

The current state of government hospitals in Karachi prompts me to reflect on where we are heading. My father is scheduled for a bypass surgery next week, and I find myself troubled by many "what ifs." What if I had insisted that he exercise regularly? Would his condition be better if we had allowed him more rest? What if things don't go right? What if...

Though it's natural to have these thoughts, it's not the time for regrets or pondering alternative actions. Instead, we must focus on the future.

Today, my father underwent his final blood tests, echocardiogram, and chest X-ray in preparation for the surgery. We had to visit Karachi’s largest cardiovascular hospital, the renowned National Institute of Cardiovascular Diseases.

This government hospital, known for having the best surgeons in the country, charges relatively low fees for bypass surgery (around $2,000-$2,500). We chose this hospital because the surgeon we want for the procedure exclusively operates here and does not practice in private clinics. This was my first visit to the hospital with my father, as I had been out of the city for the past two weeks.

This is what the so-called 'best' and largest cardio hospital looks like from both the outside and the inside. The sheer number of patients and attendants is overwhelming and unsettling, particularly when considering the care of my father. In a system of this magnitude, the quality of pre-operative and post-operative care often suffers. There seems to be a lack of infection control protocols, standard operating procedures, and competent staff, which raises concerns about the overall safety and effectiveness of the care provided.

Upon our arrival, we proceeded directly to the room where our admission slip would be generated. We were informed that all of my father’s tests needed to be conducted within the hospital, in accordance with their policy.

This policy seems reasonable given that he is undergoing major surgery; ensuring all tests are performed within the same system helps in maintaining consistency and accuracy in his care.

The number of tests required was extensive, and it was heart-wrenching to witness the amount of blood drawn. Eight vacutainers were filled during this process, a reminder of the invasive nature of these procedures. It was painful to think about the physical and emotional toll this might have on my father.

The nurse who extracted the blood was not wearing gloves. Following the procedure, there was a conversation between my father and the nurse:

Father: "I hope you don't mind, but please use gloves during these procedures. I'm surprised there are no gloves with you or any other nurses around here."

Nurse: "Sir, why would I mind? The thing is, we don't have gloves provided to us by the management. What can we do?"

The next step was the Echocardiogram, which was quite chaotic. As soon as I entered the room, I asked my dad to leave, which made him a bit angry. He told me that I needed to calm down and lower my standards. I had my father wait outside and asked the person in charge if a private Echocardiogram report would be acceptable.

He confirmed that it would be fine, so we decided to leave the hospital.

_{This is what the room looked like.}

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I am not at all satisfied with this hospital but my father is us adamant and I get it. The surgeon indeed is one of the best in Pakistan but the infection control in this hospital is very dubious. I want to be hundred percent sure about the hospital where we'd be getting the surgery from.

Of course financial constraint is another issue in itself. The best private hospital is the Aga Khan Hospital and a bypass surgery over there would cost us around $10,000.

On my way back to home, my father almost fainted from the pain exerted due to this hectic hospital visit. I had to carry him inside the house. How do I manage to do this? Where do I bring the courage from?

We are still deciding on what to do and in the meantime I want you to please pray for us.