New Delhi: If The Eagles had ever spent a night outside an ICU of a Delhi private hospital, “Hotel California” might have gone like this: “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave… the waiting area”.Because the longest nights in these hospitals are not just endured by patients, they are also survived by attendants.Step into any hospital corridor past midnight and you’ll see them: attendants, that’s how they describe loved ones these days, in various stages of exhaustion. Some are half-asleep on plastic chairs, others pacing with their phones or some, rare as it may be, with a book in hand, all waiting for that one update that they either dread or are hopeful for. Bags become pillows. Bedsheets double up as blankets. Mosquitoes, of course, come free with the package.This is the “stay” you get while paying bills that could fund a weekend at an actual five-star hotel. In private hospitals, where daily ICU rates run upwards of ₹20,000, families choose them over govt hospitals in the hope of better facilities in trying times.Inside, the patient has machines, monitors and medical staff. Outside, the attendant has a chair, if they’re lucky. There are no proper resting areas and certainly no privacy. Conversations often happen with strangers who become temporary companions in shared anxiety.Time behaves strangely. Nights stretch endlessly. Days blur into each other. Meals are irregular, sleep is broken and comfort is not even part of the conversation.And yet, the system runs as if this is perfectly normal.Need to stay for three nights? Adjust on the chair. A week? You’ll figure it out. There’s an unspoken assumption that attendants don’t need rest, don’t need space and definitely don’t need basic dignity. Their role is simple: wait, worry and pay.Pay for the room. Pay for the treatment. Pay for the tests. Pay for things you don’t fully understand but are too stressed to question.What you don’t pay for, and don’t get, is care for yourself.Hospitals advertise and pride themselves on advanced care, cutting-edge technology and world-class infrastructure. Yet, the people who hold the entire emotional weight of the situation, and who indirectly keep the “business” afloat, are left to fend for themselves in corridors.No quiet spaces. Not even protection from a buzzing mosquito at 3am.Of course, hospitals are busy places. Resources are stretched. Attendants are expected to wait, worry, sign, pay and somehow keep going — with little space, rest or dignity.The person outside, staring at a closed ICU door, counting hours, runs on the hope of getting answers that they also know they probably won’t get.In this version of Hotel California, the patient, and by default the attendant, might get discharged someday, but never really check out.
