A decent into a calamitous ward, which was thought extinct after years of progress. Beds stacked beside each other like sardines in a can, where the stench of sweat from one patient could make the other puke. A place where nurses and medical officers scramble to ensure a decent level of service in a land that prides itself with its majestic twin towers. A hospital which is supposedly one that will treat its royals.

But surely the royals will never ever see the dehumanising condition that its subjects are dealing with. No, there is a plush haven for them, tucked into a quiet corner, where even the decor has been meticulously chosen. Its residents are always afforded personal attention by the higher echelon, ensuring a quick delivery of service.

Sadly, those not lucky enough to be born with a silver spoon, will have to make do with decrepit conditions prevailing in normal class wards. A daily statistic that clearly proves that they are functioning over its maximal capacity. Compounded by shrinking budgets, the direction of progress is sadly in the reverse. Administrators appear contented and solutions are extinct.

Alas, a new leader but an old face. A machinery that looks weary after decades of underperformance. An energetic display that is likely to fizzle out as we battle the economic storm.

The reality remains as I step into a 'battlezone' where lives are saved and lost, where the camaraderie of patients are respected, and young comrades are thrust into a surreal reality of our medical wards.

God help us all.