A stitch in time... (prevents infection)

A week after an unfortunate swimming pool incident that led to 4 stitches on my knee, i arrived, at the local A&E. The stitches had started to itch and were to be removed.
It was Pakistan day; a public holiday, and for some inexplicable reason the hospital was busier than usual. I sat myself down at the resident doctor's desk, waiting to be seen to, as she filled out forms.

Some minutes later, a bunch of scruffy 12 year olds burst into the room, one of them clasping his bleeding forehead. His frightened 4 year old brother followed behind, his tiny feet encased in a bright pair of patent leather Pathani sandals. A nurse showed them into a room.

I sat and watched people come and go. A young man had been diagnosed with a Urinary infection. His little wife worried about the possibility of Appendicitis. He was to be admitted into the hospital that very night and a senior doctor had been especially called in to tend to his concerns. The doctor filled out a prescription form and went on his way.

The couple left, to pay for their treatment, the scruffy bunch soon after; the injured lad's forehead now sporting a small bandage.

The attendant nurse approached the resident doctor and informed her that the child had a deep gash on his forehead but he couldn't afford stitches. So he sent him on his way. She shrugged and continued filling in her forms.

My surgical blades arrived and they turned, all smiles, towards me. The resident doctor followed me to a bed to ensure the wound was free of infection before the very same nurse, who had tended to the lads, cautiously proceeded to remove my stitches.

I enquired after the boy. His wound was deep, he had required 6 or 7 stitches at least. I asked why the hospital couldn't provide them and was informed that it was a offence to even minister bandages that had not been paid for. That the child's only option for appropriate medical attention was a government hospital such as Jinnah; a hospital that was miles away.

Shame, guilt and remorse gripped my heart. Here was i with a minor wound, now properly healed because i could afford treatment. That poor boy, who needed it more than i did will, very shortly, have an infected gash on his forehead.

I wish i had run after him.