Six years ago, my mother was hospitalized at one of Bangladesh’s top hospitals for a basic operation. We expected that the routine procedure would go smoothly, yet she suffered such dramatic complications that we nearly lost her. The most harrowing part of the experience was the doctor’s cavalier attitude. On my mother’s worst day, my sister and I desperately needed to understand why our mother was vomiting bile, but the doctor ignored our queries and walked out of the room. I distinctly remember chasing him up two flights of stairs to demand answers to our simple questions. His indifference to our mother’s suffering made us feel completely helpless. Eventually, our family had no choice but to take my mother to Bangkok, where she had a second surgery. A year later, she had to have a third surgery, all because of complications arising from the original operation.