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Between life and death at Sri Jayewardenepura
March 1 began just like any other day. My husband, Transport Consultant for Wijeya Newspapers Ltd., went out into the garden to do his exercises. Within a few minutes he was back with excruciating pain in the region of the groin.

The pain was so bad that he could neither sit, stand or lie down. He himself asked to be taken to the Sri Jayewardenepura General Hospital, which we did. We took him to the emergency ward because he could hardly walk and we thought he would need a stretcher. In all the 26 days he spent in the SJGH, this was the only point at which we encountered a certain degree of indifference. Far from bringing a stretcher, the staff watched as we walked up to the doctors' desk. The doctor on duty listened to what we said and replied, "Tell him to lie on a bed". This we did and then had to wait for several minutes until a doctor came to examine him.

In the meantime, he was in acute pain - agony would be a better word to describe the pain he was suffering. Doctors came and went and at last, after an interval of nearly two and a half hours, he was taken to a room.

In a few minutes, like the veritable ray of sunshine she proved to be, a young doctor, Dr. Dilini Samarakoon, who was as pretty as she was kind and concerned, came in and did a preliminary examination. We learned later that she was House Officer to Dr. Gamini Goonetilleke, the surgeon who was to perform the operation.

Dr. Goonetilleke then came in, and having completed his examination of my husband, during which he humorously told him, "This room is too small for you", ordered a series of tests to be done. The time was now 12.30 p.m. and after the tests were completed we were told that the operation would be done at 3.00 p.m. This indicated the urgency of the problem.

The ward attendants began to prepare my husband for the operation and here I must commend them for their kindness and efficiency, which was utterly spontaneous. No money ever changed hands in all the time my husband was a patient in Ward 8, and that was for 26 days. Doctor Goonetilleke came to the ward at 2.50 p.m and both he and Dr. Samarakoon personally escorted the patient to the operating theatre. Dr. Samarakoon comforted me all the way to the theatre, gave me a chair in the anteroom, and then and only then did she go to the theatre herself.

Now that the danger is past and the mental agony of that time over, I sometimes wonder how I sat there all alone (my son had rushed home for something or other) while my husband was being operated on. The operation was a complicated one, the problem having been neglected for so long, as we had taken the first surgeon whom we had consulted at his word.

The anteroom of an operating theatre is one of the most cheerless places anyone can find themselves in. The walls are painted clinical white, the furnishings are sparse and the only sound is the sinister hiss of the airconditioner. As you can imagine, my courage was at its lowest ebb. People came and went, staring at me curiously, and as the minutes ticked relentlessly by, I prayed unceasingly. At the end of 1 1/2 hours, my husband was wheeled out, and at the sight of him I felt the last shreds of my courage ooze away. His eyes were taped shut and he had all manner of tubes attached to his body and he was, of course, unconscious.

Dr. Goonetilleke followed close on his heels and spoke comfortingly to my son and me, which I thought was extremely kind. I doubt whether surgeons elsewhere take the time and trouble to talk to the patient's relatives immediately after the operation. My husband was wheeled into the ICU, where he was to spend the next two weeks, hovering between life and death.

The Sri Jayewardenepura ICU is staffed by some of the most skilled, caring and concerned doctors and nurses I have ever met. The ratio of nurse to patient is practically one to one so that the patient is at all times under the watchful eye of a nurse.

All the patients in the ICU were critically ill and requiring round-the-clock care, and yet the doctors and nurses were, without exception so patient when we badgered them with questions of every kind. They were all highly trained in the art of caring for critically ill patients. So it was with a feeling of confidence that we would leave the hospital every night. We would ring the ICU last thing at night and first thing in the morning, and every time we rang we were answered by a patient, understanding doctor or nurse, which went such a long way towards alleviating our fears.

On the fourth day after his operation, my husband developed breathing difficulties, and Dr. Goonetilleke performed a laparotomy on him to find out what the cause was. My husband came through this all right and then developed pneumonia, a common occurrence when patients have been lying on their backs for a long time.

Dr. Goonetilleke and his house officers were tireless in their care and concern. The physiotherapist came twice a day, and with a different antibiotic and the administration of oxygen and frequent nebulisation, my husband slowly recovered. Pneumonia, as any doctor will tell you, is an even greater danger than the operation itself, and many were the anxious days we spent until my husband overcame the problem.

After two weeks in the ICU, my husband, who had grown to depend a great deal on the nurses there, was transferred to Ward 8. This was one more step on the road to recovery, although we did not think so at the time.

Ward 8, an airy and pleasant ward, accommodated eight patients, and overlooked the garden. Tall Indian Willows were etched against the sky and birdlife was plentiful. My husband was to spend the next ten days here, watched over and cared for by cheerful doctors and nurses (the nurses' station was just a stone's throw away) as well as by his attendant, a "mod" youngster of about sixteen, who was, nevertheless, very efficient, and rigorously "walked" my husband up and down the length of the ward twice a day.

And now I come to the only fly in the ointment in my husband's entire stay at the SJGH, and that was the bunch of thugs who constituted the external security (the female security officers who manned the entrance to the Hospital proper and were responsible for checking bags etc., and those at the entrance to the ICU, were a different kettle of fish altogether).

The external security were obviously ex-army men (they couldn't have been anything else) who enjoyed throwing their weight around, and insisted that we get out of our vehicle at the gate, even though the driver tried to explain that he would drop us at the entrance and come back to the car park. Even after I had met with an accident while travelling to work and injured my leg, one callous brute of a man insisted that I get out and join the queue.

There must have been several complaints against them, because a few days after my husband was discharged and had to return to attend the surgical clinic, he found that this particular security firm had been replaced. One understands that they are trying to do their duty, but there is absolutely no need for them to be so aggressive and rude and act as if all the visitors to the Hospital were criminals.

Having a family member in hospital, as most of us know, can be a very difficult time, when one's days are fraught with great anxiety and one never knows what the morrow will bring. The attitude of the staff can make the experience either bearable or sheer hell, but I can say, without any exaggeration, that our experience, during the 26 days during which my husband was fighting for his life at SJGH, was made so much easier and bearable by the attitude of its medical and nursing staff.

Each night we went home, our spirits buoyed up by the knowledge that we were leaving a dear one in the hands of skilful and caring and concerned doctors, nurses and attendants, all part of that great team which helps the hospital to function smoothly. Their dedication and tireless sense of duty saved my husband's life, and for that we will never cease to be grateful.

He may be a shadow of his former self, nevertheless he is there before our eyes, living and breathing testimony to the skill and devotion of the doctors and nurses of the Sri Jayewardenepura General Hospital.

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