How the Poor Die? Talk by Zara Irfan.

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“Good day everyone! You all know probably know me since we all basically live together and see each others boring faces all day long, but hey, for formalities lets get along with my introdction.

My name is Zara, Zara Irfan and an important thing that you all should know about me is that i absolutely HATE people who like pineapple on pizza, and if you’re one of they’re squad members, you can run along and hide in your dark place.
Now now, hold your horses, probably most of you are like,”there are people dying Kim” because that is exactly where I am going.
Coming to the point of this talk, and setting all sappy jokes aside, what I’m going to talk about today is in fact a very serious topic. So, I’m going to ask you all a question. Aren’t hospitals supposed to be a place where you can heal and get better? If that’s the case, why are people coming out of hospitals in more dire conditions, or worse, dead?
Recently the school asked me to gather information about the conditions of the hospitals in our country, and you won’t believe what my eyes witnessed during my observations.
Broken beds, broken machinery, broken needles.
This was the easiest way to summarize the drastic conditions. Allow me to further elaborate.
The beds in the so called “rooms” were almost as if they were conjoined together with glue. The variety of diseases were clustered together as one to form a mixture of venom that could even make the healthy sick. How fortunate.
During my tour of the rugged building, i noticed the extreme cleanliness present there. It felt like i was walking on a cloud that had just rained.
Silly, right?
The place was anything but tidy. I had to wash the filth off my hand every time i touched something, even if it was a wall. The paint was chipped and was falling off, creating a bigger mess on the cracked tiles below which were cemented with germs.
It was insanely. insanely, insanely horrendous to see.
A permanent scowl of disgust sat on my face throughout. I’m sure you all fell the same way, even I can see it on all of your faces!
Now, as i was  pacing through the HUGE passageway, my eyes wandered to a half opened door. Whimpers of pain were emitting from it which made me stand as still as a stick outside the door.
As usual, curiosity killed the cat and i stepped in.
When my eyes fell upon the man laying under the crisp white (almost yellow) sheets, tears threatened to spill out.
Yes, it was that bad.
The man laid lifeless on the small, concise bed which was crowded with different wires and drips tangled together, and his face was contorted with pain.
Tears consistently fell out of his eyes, but only small sounds came out of his mouth- maybe because he wasn’t able to.
I was so lost in living in his misery that i didn’t even notice the ill make laying behind me. It was only when he yelled out ‘Numero 38’ when i looked back.
You people won’t believe what he said next. Let me narrate his exact words to you. “Old lad’s gon’ die”. And yes, I’m not lying. After he finished with his sentence, he started ‘he he heing’. I don’t know if I was angry or amused but i remember my left eye squinting and my eyebrow twitching.
However, when he narrated the “barely-alive” man’s story, i won’t lie, i really thought he was going to die as well.
Hey! Don’t come at me, I’m sure you all will think the same thing once i tell you about his unfortunate tale.
The irony is, he was a doctor. Which operating someone, he ended up catching the patient’s disease and other deadly infections which completely wrecked almost everything in his body. His alcohol addiction didn’t help the situation either.
His current situation is that even the lightest touch sends him into the underground pits of hell. He starts screaming in agony whenever the nurses come to check on him.
Oh and don’t even get me started on this topic. The way the nurses treat you is ridiculous and extremely unprofessional to say the least. They act as if you’re not even human! Well i don’t blame them, its not like they act as one either. It would be highly preferable if they kept their anger down a notch.
I think I’ve taken plenty of your time now and cleared my point enough, but I’m going to say this one last time. Raise your voice! You have it for a reason and it can do wonders. Hospitals are meant to make you feel better, not the opposite.
Thank you for your time.”

About froebelianwriters

I am an English Language teacher teaching O'Levels Edexcel and CIE A Levels at Froebel's International School, Islamabad. I am also working as a Subject Specialist Literacy consultant for the same school. Writing and reading has always been a passion and I try my utmost to instill these habits and hobbies in my students as well. I can be reached/contacted at fabbas227@hotmail.com or 03365287335 Happy reading!

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