By N.E. Zuvan
This story takes place on the evening of May 16, 2025, at around 5:30 PM.
As usual, I was working on my computer when I suddenly heard some voices outside. My attention shifted toward the sounds, and I paused to listen carefully. But I couldn’t quite make out what was being said. Lighting the end of a leftover cigarette, I returned to my work on the computer.
Moments later, I heard the sound of a motorbike starting outside. Still, I stayed focused on my task. Just the day before, I had received an email from YouTube informing me that one of my videos had been set to “Unlisted” for containing reused content. The message also asked me to respond through the app if I had any objections.
I was in the middle of preparing a reply video regarding the issue, fully immersed in the process. Usually, by around 6:30 PM, I step out for a short walk through town. Like every other day, I shut down my computer and got up from my chair to get ready. But as I stood up, a sudden curiosity struck me — I wanted to find out what the earlier commotion had been about.
Along with the thought of going out, I decided I would gather more information, speak directly to those involved, and share my thoughts in person. With that in mind, I walked toward the front door.
As I passed through the living room and approached the exit, I saw my mother coming from the kitchen holding a spoiled raw papaya, on her way to throw it into the waste bin. I asked her what the earlier noise was about. Why had my second brother gone out to pluck neem leaves? What exactly was going on?
My mother replied that for the past few evenings, my youngest brother had been returning home exhausted from work and lying down immediately. That day, he asked for cold water. Though she gave it to him, he didn’t drink it — instead, he lay down and went to sleep. When he woke up, he said he wanted to go to the hospital. It had been extremely hot lately, with temperatures reaching over 39°C. Working outdoors all day had left marks and irritation on his skin.
I responded, “Then take him to the hospital as soon as possible. Ask him directly what exactly he needs.”
I walked into his room to talk to him, but he remained lying down, unbothered and unresponsive. I decided to step outside. But as I did, I realized that if I left and returned late, we might need to call another vehicle to take him to the hospital. Since I had the car keys, I went back inside, turned on my computer, and continued my work.
After about an hour and a half, I stepped out again. I intended to leave quietly — but just as I started my vehicle, shifted it into reverse, and began to move, I heard a call.
“Don’t go out now,” my mother said.
She told me that my brother needed to be taken to the hospital. So I waited. Sitting inside the vehicle, I saw him come out within two minutes, having washed his face. He got into the passenger seat of my car. My second brother, who had gone to collect neem leaves, had already returned and was home at that time.
I decided to take him to a hospital where one of my close friends — a doctor who has been treating me regularly — usually works. The hospital staff all know me personally, and we share a good rapport. Even without an OP ticket, they treat me without hesitation — that’s the kind of relationship we have.
As he got into the car, my mother asked, “Should I come with you?”
Though my brother didn’t respond, I answered for him, “Come along, it’s okay.”
Unexpectedly, another voice echoed from inside the house:
“No, Mom, don’t go. I’ll come instead. I’ll follow you on the bike.”
Instead of going through town, I took the bypass — a quicker route to the hospital. Inside the car, it was just me and my brother. He was extremely weak and sat silently in the back seat. I drove as fast as I could and reached the hospital in about five minutes. I knew exactly where the emergency room was. I stopped the car there, helped him out, and then parked the vehicle nearby.
As I stepped out of the car, I saw my second brother entering the hospital gate without a helmet. He parked his bike and walked in. I followed him into the emergency department, where my youngest brother was now seated on a chair. Several doctors, nurses, and hospital staff who knew me personally came over, asking what had happened. While I was speaking with them, my second brother approached and said, “Go sit down. I’ll take care of everything here.”
I responded, “We need an admission ticket to see the doctor. That’s not available here; I need to go to the registration counter.”
Still, he insisted, “You don’t have to do anything. Just step aside. I’ll handle it. You don’t know anything.”
At that moment, it became clear to me—he was completely drunk and had no clue what he was doing inside a hospital. Without arguing, I walked straight to the registration counter.
While I was in line, he came and began shouting at the staff. I calmly said, “Wait here. I’ll take care of it. You’re drunk. Please don’t cause a scene.”
But he didn’t listen. He kept yelling and behaving aggressively. I handed the necessary details to the nurse and walked back to the emergency room.
When I returned, staff members who knew me told me that my brother had been extremely rude and disrespectful. Even to me, his elder brother, he showed no respect. In front of everyone, he tried to insult me in several ways. I repeatedly told him to keep quiet, but he continued escalating the situation. Eventually, things became so tense that I was forced to walk out of the hospital.
A nurse who personally knew me followed and said, “Please don’t take this the wrong way. He’s drunk. We know it’s not your fault. But for now, it’s best that you leave to avoid any more trouble.”
Understanding the situation, I stepped outside and tried calling my mother several times. When she didn’t answer, I decided to go home and talk to her in person.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, my other brother — the one who had come to consult the doctor — was waiting near my car. I picked him up, and we returned home together. Once we arrived, I explained everything that had happened — including the humiliation I faced at the hospital.
Finally, I told my mother with firm conviction:
“If any of you need to go to the hospital again, don’t expect me to accompany you. You've shown that you can humiliate me in public. I’m not going to risk the respect I’ve built in society. From now on, if you fall ill, go by yourself — or arrange another vehicle. But don’t ask me again.
And to be honest, none of you ever treated me with such care when I was hospitalized. So don’t expect it from me now.”
เด เดญിเดช്เดฐാเดฏเด്เดเดณൊเดจ്เดจുเดฎിเดฒ്เดฒ:
เดเดฐു เด เดญിเดช്เดฐാเดฏം เดชോเดธ്เดฑ്เดฑ് เดെเดฏ്เดฏൂ