How my daughter became a victim of medical negligence in Kashmir 

A missed fracture in my two-year-old daughter’s elbow exposed the consequences of medical negligence at Kashmir’s only Bone and Joint Hospital, leaving me questioning who answers when doctors fail their patients.

It was a routine evening, until it wasn’t.

My son and two-year-old daughter, Dur-e-Shehwar, were playing in the front lawn, chasing one another and laughing. She had invented a game of her own, climbing onto a garden chair and jumping to the ground from a height of about two feet.

I stood on the porch, watching her face light up with delight each time she landed. Then, during one jump, she fell awkwardly.

The laughter stopped, and she began crying in pain.

I rushed to her and realised she had hurt her left elbow. My husband and I rushed to Kashmir’s only Bone and Joint Hospital. I waited in the emergency hall with Shehwar in my arms while he obtained the registration ticket.

Two non-local doctors were attending to emergency patients. When our turn came, I explained how she had fallen. The doctor examined her arm, suspected a fracture and advised an X-ray and an ECG.

The hospital’s X-ray section was overcrowded, so we went to a private clinic for the scan. When we returned, the doctor examined the image on a light screen and discussed it with a colleague. They told us there was no fracture, only a muscle pull. He advised a temporary slab for a week to restrict movement.

I felt grateful that my daughter had escaped a fracture. But that relief lasted barely a week.

The plaster came off on its own, and my husband decided to seek a second opinion at a reputed private hospital in Srinagar. The orthopaedic specialist examined Shehwar’s arm, looked at the X-ray and checked the hospital ticket.

His reaction stunned us.

There was a fracture in her elbow, he said, and it should have been fixed with a pin on the day of the injury. He wanted another X-ray to assess whether the joint had displaced.

I struggled to understand what he was telling us. The doctors at the Bone and Joint Hospital had said there was no fracture. Their prescription had made no mention of one. My husband looked as shocked as I felt.

The new X-ray showed that the fracture remained, although the joint had not displaced. The specialist warned that displacement remained a possibility and advised us to consult a paediatric orthopaedist. He applied a proper slab and asked us to return after a week.

Watching Shehwar cry during the procedure was unbearable. She kept looking at me, her face tightening with pain as the plaster was applied. I tried to comfort her, though I could do little to ease what she was experiencing.

A child of two cannot understand why a hospital visit has turned into repeated examinations, painful scans and weeks of uncertainty. She can only look towards her parents and hope they will make the pain stop.

My sister-in-law urged us to seek another opinion. The following morning, we visited a second orthopaedic specialist, who examined the X-rays and reached the same conclusion.

The fracture should have been treated on the first day, he said. We would have to wait another week and watch for displacement before deciding whether surgery was necessary.

By then, we had heard the same assessment from two private specialists. The original hospital had sent us home believing that our daughter had suffered a muscle pull. The consequences of that assessment were now unfolding in our family.

On a Tuesday morning, we met the paediatric orthopaedist. He examined both X-rays and agreed that the fracture should ideally have been fixed with a pin on the day of the injury. He said it was too late for that intervention now and asked for another X-ray, instructing the technician on how to take it.

Shehwar endured another painful examination while I prayed for a favourable result. The doctor eventually reassured us that the joint had not displaced and might remain in place. He advised us to continue the plaster for two more weeks and give her calcium and vitamin D3 supplements.

We left with a treatment plan, but the experience raised questions that medical advice alone could not answer.

Who was responsible for the original diagnosis? And what happens to patients who cannot afford a second opinion or do not have the right connections to get one?

Our family could afford private consultations and repeated X-rays. We could seek another specialist whenever doubt arose. Many families in Kashmir have fewer choices.

A parent who trusts the first diagnosis may accept the prescription, take the child home and assume that the hospital has done what was necessary. Someone who cannot afford another consultation may have little opportunity to discover that the initial assessment was wrong.

I cannot say what happens in every case of suspected medical negligence. My daughter’s experience, however, has made it impossible for me to treat accountability as an abstract demand.

A fracture was missed, the family was given an incorrect diagnosis, and the delay narrowed the treatment options described to us by subsequent specialists. We were left to manage the anxiety and uncertainty while searching for answers elsewhere.

Doctors have their own legitimate concerns. They speak about long working hours, demanding workloads and the need for better stipends. Those issues need serious consideration.

Medical staff need conditions that allow them to treat patients properly, and hospitals need the resources to provide competent care. But the case for better pay cannot become a shield against scrutiny when a patient is harmed by an apparent failure of care.

A hospital should have a clear process.

Such accountability protects patients and helps identify failures that might otherwise be repeated.

My daughter is now receiving treatment, and we hope her elbow will heal without further complications. I am grateful that the joint had not displaced when the specialists examined it. But relief for my family cannot erase what happened during that first week.

I began that evening watching my daughter jump from a garden chair, delighted by a game she had invented. I could do little as she cried through one medical procedure after another.

Between those two moments lies a question Kashmir’s hospitals must answer: when a doctor makes a serious mistake, will the patient’s suffering lead to an honest examination of what went wrong, or will the family be left to find its own answers?

As a journalist, I had reported stories about patients suffering because of medical negligence. I knew how easily a medical mistake could change a family’s life. But I had never imagined that my own daughter would become one of those patients.