How are you all? I hope you are all doing very well by the grace of God. I am also doing very well by your prayers. I am going to start today's new post by greeting and congratulating all the brothers and sisters of 'ccs' on my behalf. Today, I will share with you the details of my responsibilities after taking my father to the hospital during his illness and his admission.

I shared a post with you earlier. I stayed at Dhaka BIRDEM Hospital from Meherpur for my father's operation. After we reached Dhaka BIRDEM Hospital, I found out that the next day, i.e. February 14th, was a holiday for Good Friday and Shab-e-Barat and Saturday was a holiday for Shab-e-Barat. Therefore, the hospital was closed on Thursday. The doctors would come to the hospital on the following Sunday, i.e. the 16th. My father was admitted. I took care of him for two days and the sisters took care of him. When they asked me to bring all the medicines, I brought them. The only medicine I had was Haier antibiotics, which cost 1300 taka per person. I had to give this injection three times a day. That is why I had to face various problems for a long time, such as feeding my father three times a day, checking his diabetes, and taking him to the toilet to freshen up. Anyway, on the morning of the 14th, I gave my father medicine. The sisters asked me to bring several medicines. After giving the medicine, I went out again to get all the medicine.

Then I went out to the road and saw the center of Dhaka Sahabagh. There was a lot of fear in my mind about my father. How would the leg operation go? When would it be okay? There were so many thoughts in my mind. Being a single person, I was constantly afraid and tense. Every day, I was thinking about how I would get through the day of the operation. With such thoughts, I kept moving towards the pharmacy. And I kept seeing these places in Dhaka city. Dhaka city means a place of money. There, people of different classes are trying to grab money. This thought was playing in my head over and over again. What I used to hear before is now true. The hospital costs 5 to 7 thousand taka every day. But I always think in my mind, no matter what the cost, may Allah heal me quickly.

I reached the pharmacy after seeing the activities of people from different walks of life in the city. Then I wanted to get the medicines from the pharmacy. The people at the pharmacy quickly explained the medicines to me. Then I took the medicines and set off again. I was still worried. I don't know how many injections I still have to use. When I was there, I noticed that it was a crippled hospital. Many other people like me came to that pharmacy to get medicines for sick patients. I also felt that sometimes when I went to get medicines, the pharmacy would run out.

Then I turned back towards the hospital. On the way, I saw different countries. Wherever I looked, only patients and their relatives were there. I thought that at one point, I came to the hospital while walking and looked at the balcony and saw that there were very few people. On days when the hospital is open, that is, when there are doctors, there is so much presence of people that one cannot look around due to the crowd of people. Today, on holidays, only admitted patients and their relatives move around. Then I took the elevator from the ground floor and reached the sixth floor. My father was kept in a ward of the 6th floor.

After arriving at the specific ward in the hospital, I kept thinking and looking at the floor. At night, I had to sleep between two beds. I don't know how long I would have to stay here with my father's illness and sleep on the floor. Do I sleep on the floor at night? There were only patients and patients around. People were talking until 12:00 at night. Meanwhile, I had to wake up at 6:00 in the morning. However, by then I saw the hospital sisters and the trained children taking care of my father. Then I took the prescribed medicine and went outside again. To give my mind some peace. I came to the road and got on the flyover and observed the life of the people of Dhaka city. And in this way, I was trying to adapt myself a little by seeing different things. But there was a mountain of pain in my mind, again because of my illness. I had kept a lot of pain in my chest, all alone.