The Patient Who Taught Me to Care Twice

It was an ordinary day on duty in our dialysis centre. One of my regular patients had arrived for his usual hemodialysis session. I was quite close to him — I often joked with my patients, tried to make them smile. Dialysis can feel endless, and a little laughter lightens the hours.

He usually came in with high blood pressure, so I always checked his BP before starting. But that day, the machine was not working. I told myself I would keep an eye on him instead, checking in frequently to see if he looked uncomfortable or showed any signs of hypertension.

The session went smoothly at first. Everything seemed fine. But as we neared the end, things suddenly changed. He began to seize — his body shaking, then going limp. I called for help while starting what I could do on my own. After a while, the seizures stopped, but he remained unconscious.

Our centre didn’t have the fluids and medicines we needed. The patient’s son said he had no money, not even for transportation to a pharmacy. I gave him some of my own money to buy what was required. It was a painful moment — watching how quickly illness strips away dignity, and how helpless you feel when care depends on what someone can afford.

After the session, I hired a taxi to take them home. I told the son to call me once they arrived safely. He didn’t call, and I worried. Two days later, I heard from my colleagues that the patient was doing better and had come for his next session. I felt a wave of relief.

Three months later, I was told he had passed away. The news hit me hard. That day — and that man — taught me a lasting lesson. Caring is not only about what we do in the hospital. It is also about the small choices we make when no one is watching, and about caring twice when someone else cannot.