Putting safety to test
CHENNAI: Ever since the World Health Organisation (WHO) declared COVID-19 as a pandemic on March 11, I have come across the following phrases on an everyday basis. “Social distancing, physical distancing, proper sanitation, use sanitisers regularly and wear masks without fail.” If you put the above-mentioned principles into practice, chances are you won’t get the virus that easily. At least that’s the message the WHO has disseminated through its various channels since January.
Alas, if only the people and authorities at a government hospital in Chennai had gotten that memo. I went to get myself tested recently and was present at this place for a good three hours, and I came away with one distinct impression: ‘if you come here without the virus, chances are by the time you get your swab test done, SARSCoV- 2 will have found a new host to spread its ever-expanding wings. You.’ Even as the doctors at the registry desk kept asking all of us to maintain distancing protocols, many did not believe in it. Most, through their actions, conveyed the message that they were Iron Men or Wonder Women, children of a greater God. You know how people behave as soon as an aircraft burns its rubber on the tarmac; most passengers stand up to retrieve their luggage from the overhead compartment.
A few of the scenes at the hospital was a bit like that as soon as the overworked doctors were ready to look at the next patient in the queue. It was freely cut, patients tried to pull their nonexistent rank and a minimum of one-metre distance quickly became advertisements for Fevicol ads from a bygone era. Protocols be damned when human beings, most of them understandably scared, act entitled. That’s even before you get to the good stuff. As soon as you enter the place, you get to stand in any of the four lines. There is nothing to indicate that you first have to get something called an OP sheet. I didn’t know this and wasted my time standing in a different queue. During this time, I am sure I was exposed to people who were already positive. How do I know this? They themselves told me.
If this wasn’t any more tragic, I would have been inclined to drop an LOL. In all the four lines, the three categories of people — people coming in for first-time screening, people coming in for a follow-up after being informed they carry the virus and people coming in to see if they are negative after testing positive the first time — freely mingle. At the very least, you would expect queues to be based on symptomatic and asymptomatic patients. That’s not how it’s done here. We are all packed together; it’s literally one giant coronavirus petri dish giving it an open invitation to latch onto new hosts.
At one point of time, one positive patient who was asked to come for a follow-up was asking people to not come within six feet of him. It was mildly amusing and, yet, very concerning to watch this incident play out. I couldn’t help but think this. “A coronavirus testing place as a potential cluster? India’s own patient 31?” Even as I was wondering if these scenes play out an everyday basis, a cop confirmed my worries. “It’s always like this,” he said. “I am hoping to get a test done and go back to my village for a few weeks but I’m really scared to even stand here.” As I was waiting for my swab test, I again ran into the guy whose PSA had seemingly run its course. “I don’t even know when they want to admit me, I must have come into contact with dozens of people,” he muttered. As this goes to the press, the Corporation is yet to call me. That’s apparently a good sign because they only call you in case you test positive. Otherwise, you have to call the control room which I did, but was just pushed around like a tennis ball.
No demarcation
As soon as you enter the place, you get to stand in any of the four lines. There is nothing to indicate that you first have to get something called an OP sheet. I didn’t know this and wasted my time standing in a different queue. During this time, I am sure I was exposed to people who were already positive.