A sprawling hospital complex stands on the banks of a tranquil delta, its walls echoing with silence where once there was urgency and care.
In the heart of Bhola's 250-bed General Hospital, a state-of-the-art RT-PCR lab lies dormant, while an ICU packed with life-saving technology remains untouched—monuments to a promise unfulfilled.
With Covid-19 cases once again creeping into headlines and homes, the islanders of Bhola find themselves adrift, cut off not by water, but by a glaring void in essential health services.
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The RT-PCR lab, built at a cost of several crore taka in 2020 during the peak of the pandemic, was meant to serve as a critical shield for nearly 22 lakh people living in this coastal district. But for months now, its doors have remained closed, its machines untouched and its purpose abandoned.
In its place, only rapid antigen tests are available—simple kits whose reliability pales in comparison to the precision of the RT-PCR method.
From 1 June to 22 June this year, just 42 samples were tested through these kits, and none returned positive.
Yet, as fevers rise and coughs linger, the people of Bhola grow anxious. Whispers of returning symptoms ripple through the communities and frustration brews.
In towns and villages, residents speak with growing urgency, demanding the lab's revival.
Their appeal is not just for technology, but for the right to know, to protect and to act.
And yet, the RT-PCR lab is not the only wing of the hospital left in slumber.
Tucked within the hospital is a fully furnished Intensive Care Unit—six beds lined with polished metal frames, five ventilators resting beneath their protective covers, seven oxygen concentrators idle, six high-flow nasal cannulas untouched. Built in 2021, it remains unopened to this day.
Here too, the reason is stark -- no specialist doctors, no trained ICU nurses. The machinery waits like soldiers without commanders.
"We're watching our loved ones die while treatment tools gather dust," said a local, adding, "What use are all these machines if no one is here to operate them? They're wasting away and so are we."
The human toll weighs heavily. Critical patients are being sent to distant districts, adding both travel strain and cost to already vulnerable families.
Dr Tayebur Rahman, the hospital's residential medical officer, did not shy away from the truth.
"We're forced to refer the seriously ill to other districts," he admitted, adding that repeated appeals have been made to higher authorities.
Standing in the eye of this silent storm, Dr Sheikh Sufian Rustam, superintendent of the hospital, shared a familiar refrain.
"The RT-PCR lab is intact, structurally. But we cannot run it without manpower. We are trying to bring the necessary staff on board," he said.
The numbers offered by the Directorate General of Health Services (DGHS) paint a sobering picture. Till June 24 this year, 473 people have tested positive for COVID-19, while 19 lives have already been lost.
Even as the DGHS issues public health advisories, urging people to remain cautious, there is little sign of widespread compliance.
Masks are absent, hands remain unwashed, crowds gather unbothered.
In Bhola, where the land meets the sea and communities thrive in resilience, the battle against the invisible virus continues, not just with the disease itself, but with the haunting stillness of healthcare that stands ready, yet unreachable.
