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Chapter 7
The Administrator’s Chair
The bedside gave way to the boardroom
There is an old saying that a good doctor treats the disease, but a great doctor treats the patient. I learned, rather late in life, that an administrator must treat the entire hospital. Taking the Administrator’s Chair—stepping in as Medical Superintendent—was not merely a change of room or designation. It was a change of lens.
For decades, my world had been defined by the bedside. My tools were simple: a stethoscope, a reflex hammer, and a listening ear. Success was measured in small, intimate victories—a fever settling, a breath easing, a diagnosis finally making sense. In the superintendent’s office, the variables changed overnight. I found myself dealing with oxygen shortages, linen logistics, staff grievances, broken equipment, delayed payments, and the daily friction between infinite needs and finite resources.
Very quickly, I understood that administration is not about authority; it is about stewardship. In a Gandhian institution like Sevagram, that responsibility carries a heavier moral weight. We are expected to provide top-tier care without losing our soul of simplicity and service. Every decision—whether to buy a new machine, open a new unit, or repair a leaking roof—had to pass a quiet but unforgiving test: Is it necessary? Is it fair? Can we afford it without making care unaffordable for the poor?
The hardest part was the distance from patients. The files stacking up on my desk were not mere paperwork. They were lives, delays, anxieties, and unanswered questions. I could no longer touch every patient myself, but I could still protect them—by making the system work for them. If I could remove a bottleneck in the pharmacy, streamline admissions, improve ICU readiness, or shorten the wait for a report, I was still healing—only now at a different scale.
This chapter chronicles those years of decision-making, crisis management, ethical dilemmas, and the quiet satisfaction of keeping the hospital’s heart beating through ordinary, difficult days. It is also the story of learning that sometimes the most effective medical instrument is not a drug or a procedure, but a well-made decision.