Choosing a Life: Mine or Yours?

India is currently facing the worst possible brunt of covid. Cases are rising everywhere. So is the death count. 

However, unlike the last wave, this time around, people are not just dying from covid. They’re dying from a lack of treatment, due to a lack of resources.

There aren’t enough beds.

There isn’t enough oxygen.

There isn’t enough medicine.

There isn’t enough plasma.

There isn’t even enough space to bury or cremate the dead.

So what do you do when you’re in a situation where demand is high and supply is limited? How do you decide who gets access to the resources? 

Maybe we opt for ‘first come first serve’, though that would never happen in this country. When have we ever waited in a line?

Maybe doctors take a call on who absolutely needs what, but most people aren’t even able to reach the doctors. 

No, more often than not, it’s the old Indian solution: jugaad, vaasta, connections, network. If you know the right people, you can get access to what you need. (As much as I want to judge this system, I can’t. If it’s your loved one who is in critical condition and in need of a bed or oxygen, you’re going to do everything you can to get that resource for him or her. And if you have better connections, then the better for you. This country was built on vaasta, and it’s not going to shed away its core identity now, not in the middle of a crisis. Though, even this system is failing these days).

But regardless of the way people are getting access to the resources, the grim truth that remains is this: there aren’t enough resources for everyone.

This means that for every person who gets a resource, another person does not. 

How do you come to terms with that?

I read a news report recently that an old man, in his 70s or 80s, gave up his bed and oxygen in a hospital for a younger patient, and chose to go home. And there, he passed away. 

Something about that story really hit me. Of course, there was a sense of admiration for the man who took such a daring and selfless step. But more than that, there was a sinking feeling in my stomach: a reminder, that in the current situation, for every bed a patient gets, somebody else loses out. 

Which means that for every life that is prioritized for saving, another life is lost.

And I don’t know how to come to terms with that.

Of course, you can say that ultimately, this is life. Everywhere we look, even in a non-covid world, resources are limited. Only some get access to them. More often than not, it’s the ones with some kind of economic or social or political privilege. Others lose out. That’s life. That’s survival. 

But I guess that there’s something about the current covid crisis that has brought us face to face with this reality in a jarring way. Multiple lives are on the line. And unfortunately, only some can be saved. How do you decide which life is more valuable? 

At a personal level, I know I’ll probably opt for saving my family over an unknown one, because that’s the most natural instinct, and I can’t fault that. We all want to save our loved ones. But there’s something really unnerving about the realization that saving my loved ones means, in many cases, damning your loved ones. Saving my family means not saving yours. 

How do I choose a life to save, when the choice is between me and you?