She is Strong

The GI doctors’ team appeared at my bedside. “How are you this morning?” Someone asked cheerfully.

“Not good!” I opened my eyes. Told my story. “You see, I still don’t get any warm water in my flask now.  Your ward is unfriendly. Please stop the IV drip.”

They listened. Silent for a few moments.

Then they started asking me questions of what I do for a living, my home situation etc. “We know you had a stroke, this is why we are asking you these questions to see how you answer and if the neuro team needs to come today to see you. “

In the midst of these, one of the attending nurses exclaimed, “I know her, she writes in Mastika, I read her stories!”

 

 I have been writing x-cultural stories for
this monthly magazine for six years.

“So you write?”

“It is my hobby,” I answered feebly. So now what? Nurses are going to treat me nicer because I ‘write’?

Then they studied my file and discussed. More tests were ordered. “We don’t simply give you medication until we are sure what you need, so we need to make more blood and, urine tests.”  The IV drip was stopped but I must keep drinking water do I wouldn’t get dehydrated from the draining.

May was discharged that afternoon, “Stay very strong for your daughter, she has only you so you can’t give up no matter how painful things get,” she advised.

A man was admitted into the ward and shared the room with me. It felt awkward to go to the toilet knowing that he and several of his male family members were in the room.

The ward was still full of moaning sounds and screaming from male patients. It made the gynae ward sounded like a ‘heaven’ compare to this ward.

 A male patient

My family came to see me. They were shocked that some patients have TB and are quarantined in the rooms next to me. “Got to get out of help as soon as possible before I get any more infection,” I told them. “The antibiotics they give me are already giving me gastric problem, so I have to take gastric pills daily!”

The room I was in was dingy and the wall paint had come off. It was depressing. The gynae ward was painted in purplish paints. Oh no, I don’t want to go back to the gynae ward!

By Ching Ching

The Nightmare

At 9pm, I was wheeled to the GI ward. I thanked the nurses in the gynea ward. But secretly I wished that I wouldn’t be coming back to this ward again.

A room with two beds. My ward mate, May, is from Kuching.

I choked and felt like vomiting.

 Her husband was snacking on shrimp keropok. The smell of keropok was too strong for me.

Sorry, I will eat outside,” the husband hurried outside.

She lives in KL alone with her three year old son and another premature baby. Her husband works in China. The only support she receives is from her mother-in- law. She has liver problem so serious that her eyeballs are yellow from jaundice.

I was transferred to this ward with a doctor’s order of giving me saline solution. It contained sodium and it was giving me stomach pains. I asked the nurse to stop the draining of the solution, she wouldn’t. “We followed the doctor’s order.”

“May I have a blanket? I am very cold,” I pleaded.

The rude nurse threw a blanket onto my toe where the IV needle was. The veins on my arms collapsed so the nurse had to find a functional vein for the drip, and it is on my left toe.

“Ouch!”I yelled. That was her welcoming me into the ward. Oh no, this ward is going to be worse than the last one? If so, it is like going from a tiger’s den into a lion’s cave.

I asked for some warm water to drink, she said curtly “We are very buzy.”

I heard her washing urinary pot in the utility room next door. She said to another nurse, ”She came from Damansara Specialist Hospital, we don’t have time to serve rich people like these.”

Oh no, someone must have texted the nurses in this ward and I am going to suffer continuously! It is as if I had committed a crime to seek medical attention here instead of staying in the private hospital.

I moaned, indeed very painful.  A male patient was screaming at the other end of the corridor. Another male patient was moaning in the room next to ours. Moans from pains. “Tolong, tolong, sakit sakit ( help, painful).” All night long.

May’s husband left at midnight, she came over to my bed to give me some warm water to drink and told me her story to keep me from thinking about my pains.

The IV drip was giving me
tremendous pains in my stomach

“When I first came here, I was also not treated well. I was very sick so I needed help in toilet and eating. The nurses scolded me. If you don’t ask them to help you, then you don’t get scolded.  One time, I was in so much pain that I pounded my head against the wall, wishing that I could just die right there. I pressed the red button for nurses to help but no one came. That night was very very long for me. I lived because I remembered my son. If I died, who is going to take care of him?

“I gritted my teeth to try to do things on my own because there is no dignity to be scolded.  Chinese call situations like these “jhiat ( a bad hurdle in life)”. In our live, each one of us will have several ‘jhiat” that we have to go through. I have been going through mine in this ward. So tonight you shall go through this ‘jhiat’, one step at a time. Just close your eyes, breathe deeply and imagine good things. Time will pass, tomorrow morning will come and the doctor can give you pain killer or take away that drip.”

She then took me to the toilet, “Try sitting down and do something, even a small fart, a little thing that comes out can ease your pains,” She waited for me till 3 am and led me back to the bed.

“Thank you, if you are not here, I will be in even worse shape,” I tried to smile.

“Only patients understand other patients’ sufferings. To these nurses, it is just a job. They don’t feel our pains. If you don’t get the warm water to drink for hours, they don’t feel your sufferings, they don’t know how uncomfortable and irritable you are without water in your mouth for hours.”

Then we got to talk about her recovery from liver disease and the loneliness she felt. “Are you worried that your husband will have another woman in China? It is a common problem, you know.” I popped the critical women’s question.

“What can I do? Look at me, yellow face, yellow eyes, shrinking breasts, no vitality in me! I am sure there are times he looks at me and think to himself, ‘Who is this woman?’ I  have to carry on because of my babies. If he has another woman, I hope he will keep her from me and still pretend to be a good husband when he is back here.” She concluded.

And so the long night went away.

By Ching Ching

A Long Weekend

I now learnt that if I wanted to make sure I am tended the right way, Fridays are very important. Whichever trainee doctor assigned to me must give instructions from letting me walk to reduce swelling, draining my ascites tube by flushing, and giving me a sleeping pill because of insomnia. If the doctor doesn’t write these instructions down, no one will follow. And I will have to wait till Monday.  And I must make sure this is done before five o’clock when the doctors leave.

I am surprised that weekend consultants don’t read up medical needs of patients in the files but the instructions must come from the week day doctors specifically.

Blood drawing, something I don't like.
It can be very painful if done roughly.

 The doctors in the weekdays had specific instructions for the nurses. I After withdrawal of 5 litres or more of peritoneal fluid within five hours, I am at risk of post-paracentesis circulatory dysfunction (PPCD), I must be given at least two hours of ‘rest’ by having the tube clipped off to stop the draining.

I drained more than this today but the nurse refused to clip it off because there was no instruction to her to do so. No matter how much I explained, she still wouldn’t listen to me. So I studied the tubes and secretly turn the clip.

I thought about Pong. If I have so much problem in the ward, how about her? No wonder she tells me to ‘Just don’t think about all the negative things that happen to you. Keep looking at the positive, keep thinking about the positive, keep dreaming about the positive.”

I thought about Pong

Pong had problems at KLGH (KL General Hospital), they took her blood tests and lost the results. Her veins had collapsed and they had to take blood from her thighs, and one time, from her neck.  She showed me the bruises and I was shocked to see the big black patches. 

My brother’s family came from JB to see me. They made Buddhist prayers and gave me a bottle of blessed water by a powerful monk. “Are you all coming next weekend?” I was anxious to know. The hospitalization has changed every one. They are now more concerned about me and not taking me for granted. I am now eager to include them in my new life.  I told them I envisioned the whole family staying in KL together so we can help each other. “Look at the other branch of our extended Lai family, they are all here and when the grandmother is sick, there are many people to support her. We should do the same. Look at my daughter she has to do many things by herself. If you guys are here, she will be less stressed. ”

Just before dinner, Sushila, my Hindu neighbor, came with her husband. She brought no salt homemade tosai with coconut chutney and tomato chutney. I took big bites of the tosai, it tasted so good! Sushila’s husband told me he would pray for me at his temple and during his daily prayers> He has become religious and is a vegetarian now.

twouen yuen in Chinese writing

I told them what Ah Ba said in my dream. “Be together. You are one. IF the circle breaks apart, it must come back. Always ‘twouen yuen ( tightly knit together in a circle)’. I reminded them that Ah Ba went away on Wesak day morning, he is a powerful soul. He is telling us that all of us are destined to be together, so we must try to give the best in each other’s life.

Strangely, I envision that I will be able to get my sister a better less stressful job. And my brother to be a new person, less stressed from all the commuting and money talks in Singapore. And the nephew who is not doing well in university to turn around a new leaf.

That night, I also envision all good things come though the universe for me. Friends, laughters, funds for eHomemakers, a very strong and committed team, and many corporate and strategic partners.  And for the first time, I feel determined to prove to those who have called me ‘a failure’ that they are wrong.

I couldn’t sleep. So I jotted down some work strategy for eHomemakers. My mind was working hard because I was worried about eHomemakers.

By Ching Ching

Crazy Days

My daughter sat by my bedside yesterday, tears rolled down her cheeks, “Ma, you’ve been ‘gila’ for many weeks.  When we took you out, you walked right onto doors and things so we had to hold your hand tight like we hold a kid. And you were like a kid, you took everything without sharing. We were going to share a tub of frozen yogurt but you ate the whole thing. You refused to let me have any! I had never seen you like this!

“The doctors had to tie your hands to the bed railings because you kept getting out of the bed and walked all over the ward. And you were talking nonsense. You don’t know how to take care of yourself. The only thing you can do is eating or sitting on the toilet bowl. We have to take care of you almost totally. And you shook your head like crazy every time we talked to you!” She laid her head down onto my chest, and cried softly. “I thought I lost you!  I want my mommy back.”

She recalled one time when she grabbed my shoulders and shook me several times because I was shaking my head for more than ten minutes.

Really, seriously, I don’t even know that things had gotten that serious
.  
I was even like the inmates in “One flew over the cuckoo’s nest”?  

Only a few fleeting scenes of me in a hair cutting place, at a yogurt restaurant and walking in a mall floated in my mind. I seemed to have yelled at the young guy who cut my hair too short, and I was only pacified when his boss came to thin my hair out with nice techniques so that my short hair didn’t look too boyish.

The reflection on the mirror in the toilet was shocking. I looked like my father when he was in his dying days. So much resemblance! And the white hair on top of my head seemed to have grown more abundant in the last few weeks. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t look at my physical self anymore.

It has been more than three weeks since I came to UM.  

I can’t sleep at night due to the noises and commotions all around. The novels I am reading are keeping me sane. For several hours, my mind would go off somewhere else in other worlds and live in the novels like an observer. That is the only time I do not walk around the ward. I’ve been prescribed sleeping pills but I take the pill only after I grow tired of reading, and that is around two to three o’clock.

Sometimes, when I am reading, my mind jumps into work matters. Oh, I need to remind ZYT about this, how about write that proposal and try our luck, we must let the older interns delegate to the new ones…my mind strategizes so I jot down on my note pad. My handwriting is very bad nowadays. The toxicity of the peritoneal fluid has made me forgotten how to do many things. One of them is writing. Sometimes I can’t even read what I write.

“You ‘ve to keep trying, keep learning so you can start all over again when you can get out of the hospital. Don’t stop.” Lucy, my hospitalization councilor reminded me. Lucy had SLE remission so bad over ten years ago that she had to stay in hospital for one year to recover. 

She had to learn to speak, write, and count.    

My daughter’s testimony is verified by my sister who said to me, “We’ve never seen you like this. It is kind of scary to see you becoming a totally different person.  Your ‘gila’ days were stressful for us because we didn’t know what else to do except follow the doctors’ instructions. When you turned round and round in the shopping mall, I wished I had a dog leash to control your movement.” My daughter and her narrated several other incidences which I have no memory of.

The only person who is ‘cool’ and seems unfazed by my gila days is my 82 year old mother.

“We just have to help her and let the doctors do the rest.” I remember her sitting by my bed side reading newspaper and talking to other patients. And praising the young nurses so that they would change my soiled diapers because I wasn’t allowed to even go to the toilet.

I want these gila days to disappear, no more.

By Ching Ching

A Friend for the Journey

I must admit I feel good about the doctor team’s visit. Today’s visit was also attended by a second team of medical students. I agreed to be a test case for examination, so the Professor used me to test his student who had to take an exam on Monday. Her fingers were cold and her examination was fleeting. I told the Professor what I thought about his student. 

“I don’t think she heard my lungs because the stethoscope was hardly pressed onto my back!” I helped out in the practical training so that no patient will need to suffer later from wrongly examine by a new doctor! 

It is official. On Monday, I would be transferred to the GI ward. I secretly wished that the nurses in the ward will be friendlier.

A new ward mate came. An Indian lady in the thirties. She was here for a biopsy. She was a bit scared, so she cheered herself up by talking to me. I told her my experiences.  

She thanked me, “Like you, suddenly I became sick….. no one has told me what to do to prepare myself. If only someone put some of these tips down, then people like us can read first and prepare well ahead to cope!”

Laughter is the best medicine.

The idea of a blog came to me as I talked more and more to her. I would love to help out with tips and checklists!

Time went by fast with the two of us talking about our fears, aspirations and our dreams. When you are a patient, you don’t laugh at another patient’s dream even though you think it is quite crazy. Her dreams are unusual but I believed in her. 





It makes a big difference when you have a roommate who tells you stories of her life and makes you laugh. I will miss her as she will be discharged tomorrow after the biopsy. She doesn’t want to stay one more day as she wants to pray for her health in the temple.

Even the dinner with a big chunk of overcooked chicken sitting in a sort of spicy soup, and two boiled vegetables, tasted ok tonight because of her.

By Ching Ching

Slowly Adjusting

By now, I was slowly getting used to the military kind of schedule. My stomach and eyes have been trained to respond to certain timings of the day.

Handphone has become very important to me. Before the hospitalization, I was known for not carrying my handphone for several days. Now, this is the only way for outside communication. I asked my family and friends not to come to visit me, warning them about possibility of infection due to TB patients.  

One of my aunts, ABC, has been bringing me bananas and stir-fried greens with only garlic and chilli with no salt. A few times, she brought me some Malay cakes ( kuih) for breakfast because she also had to bring her 92 year old mother for check-up. Grandmother also has ascites like me.

One of the Christian neighbors is a lawyer. When he heard that I had no will, he drew one up for me and also brought another neighbor to be the witness. He didn’t want to charge me a single cent. Kind gestures like these are what warm my heart towards Christ, not long sermons.

The neuro team came today to check on me. They did some physical tests and studied the pet scan. “There is no blood clot, so we are very happy for you. But you are still under observation,” said the Head of the team.

Under observation means that a nurse is supposed to tend to me and checked on me regularly. I don’t have to beg to be helped. A new nurse was assigned to me.  She was nice, no scolding. I was happy. It really made all the difference if you have a nice nurse to help you or a sour face one whom you have to beg to get her help.

Dreaming about this sour soup
makes my mouth waters

The foods were getting to me by now – two boiled vegetables,  one the veg is always a melon with turmeric and fennel seeds, and another vege will be cabbage or very dead bean sprouts. My high protein diet low salt diet consisted of one big chunk of chicken sitting in a soup or a watery curry. As a Chinese, I am unused to eating a big chunk of chicken. If it is diced or sliced into smaller pieces, it would be more appetizing for me.  The fish was too smelly so I ended up with chicken. No beef because it is costly.   Sometimes I choose vegetarian meals, but the tofu tong fun soap was tasteless. Only the curried lentils and beans were more savory.

By now, I started to dream about foods I love.  Curry laksa, assam laksa, bak kut the, yong tau fu, chee cheong fun, Penang fried kewo teow, sea food tomyam, mango kerabu, Thai green curry, Thai style fried fish with mango sauce,  claypot tofu with spicy minced meat, and anything cooked with hot chillies!

Another of my favorite sour salad.
It has chopped peanuts with
sliced green papaya in lemon juice. Full of vitamin C!

My sister brought a few pieces of yong tau fu when she visited at night. I wolfed them down. “Don’t come every day, go rest.” I thanked her but I didn’t want her to rush over with foods daily after work.

The African doctor was on call at night. He came to check on me and asked me I had been treated right by the nurse assistant. I told him the repercussion I got from the Bell Palsy episode. 

“It is not supposed to be this way, but what else can I do?” He sighed. “I am only a trainee doctor.  I care for my patients but I can’t help them when others don’t treat them right.” .” 

So far, today was the only good day that gave me some peace of mind. 

By Ching Ching

If Only There Are More Angels

The doctor’s team came around. I was given a piece of good news by Dr W, “Your ovaries are in good condition so I didn’t touch it. The tubes are also fine. ” Then she paused for a moment, “However, we saw your liver. It looks like you have tissue scaring. You need to have a biopsy. We will be referring you to the GI (Gastro Intestinal) Ward. But I will still be discussing with the GI doctors. We will make sure you get well soon.” 

Neighbors from a church came to see me. They prayed for me and one kept asking me to accept Chris as the savior right now and then, “Then Christ can save you.” She insisted.

“If I don’t, doesn’t Christ love me?”

“Christ can only save you from pains and sufferings if you follow him.”

I kept quiet. Doesn’t a loving God love all human? Does it have to be like buying a ticket before you can get a seat in Heaven?

I thank them. I was very tired after listening for over an hour. My head wasn’t very clear today.

The wound from the surgery is still painful. I asked for help to get in and out of bed and to untangle the tubes from the ascites bag. 

The blackened portion inside the body is the peritoneal fluid.
The fluid is heavy, I feel as if I am carrying a child.

Only a few of the nurses were nice, others scolded me when I asked for help. “You go and get up by yourself, I am busy,” was the answer I often got.

I wonder how they got all the accolades, displayed on the wall, from past patients. The doctors, yes. But all the nursing staff? 

Pong came to my mind. If I have these kinds of treatment, how about Pong? When I asked her about the treatment at the KLGH for her, she told me, “Don’t talk about it. I rather prayer to Buddha for good things to come.”

The first year nursing students were mostly nuisance. A few came around to do my pulse and temperature but most did their handphones behind my curtains. If I asked for a bath, massaging of my swollen ankle as prescribed by the doctor, some warm water, or help me to the toilet, they walked away.  The dressing on my ascites tapping hole needed to be changed. Only a few of them were willing to learn. If I waited for the nurses to be free, I would have very wet dressing on me most of the time. 

IV drip of human albumin is given to me 

after every 5 litres of draining.

A young one from Sabah was one of few who were keen to learn. By now, I already knew what plaster they should use and how to cut it, and how to apply saline water with a cotton ball. “Do you want to work in KL?”I asked her.

“No, I want to finish my study and go back to KK. My family is there.” She was gentle with her application









We chit-chatted. She tended to me for almost two hours, brought me hot water and massaged my swollen ankles, and set up the IV for the human albumin. I thanked her. 

“Please thank your ancestors for me for having such a kind granddaughter,” I told her.She smiled happily. 

If only there are more of her around.

By Ching Ching

A Very Long Night

I was moved into another room. This room has a red warning light for negative pressure so as to get rid of bacteria. You get move here after your surgery. And the oxygen tap is ready for you.

Oxygen tap above my bed

Pains in the surgery area, so I couldn’t tie my sarong well. I asked the nurse to help, she wasn’t very happy that I didn’t know how to tie sarong. “Sorry, nurse, please help.” I pleaded.

One of my staff, XYZ, came to see me. I showed her my collapsed veins, she couldn’t control herself and teared up. She held my hand firmly and told me in a very soft kind voice, “Let me pray for your health.”  I have never seen her so tender loving before. he had always been a cold calm corporate professional with little emotions on her face.

I couldn’t eat most of my foods. My appetite was gone. The only good thing today was my family’s visit. I told my sister no one gave me a bath so she and my daughter did that for me. Then the ascites bag fell off and water started to flow down the tapping hole. She asked for the nurse. 

The ascites draining bag has become very important in my daily life. 

It has calibrated measurements up to five litres.

 “Who ask you to be so careless?” The nurse reprimanded her.

“You are supposed to help us, not scold us,” my sister retorted.

The nurse tied all the tubes in one jiff and walked off. Then we realized that water was not moving from the tapping hole, even the urinary tube was stuck because she clipped it off.  The unhappy nurse came to redo the tube.But water was everywhere by then. Still, she walked away.

My sister asked her for the cleaning lady. “It is 10 pm, no cleaning lady.” She answered reluctantly.

“Then what do we do with the smelly water and urine on the floor next to her bed?”

“Wait till tomorrow,” was her answer.

I told my sister about the utility room along the corridor. “You can find a broom there and a bucket.” Together, she and my daughter cleaned up the mess. Thank God they were here tonight, otherwise I would be sleeping with smell of urine and peritoneal fluid.

At around midnight, a new ward mate came. A Chinese lady in for a laproscopy too. No one came to tell her how to press red button to call for help or what she needed to do so she asked me many questions. As I was talking to her, suddenly, I realized that I slurred my speech. “Soap’ became ‘suuu’, ‘towel’ became “toooooo.”  I touched my cheek. Something was wrong.   So I went to the toilet to look at the mirror. My face seemed to have ‘slanted in a downward way’.

I pressed the red button. A nurse finally came, “Something is wrong with my face! Look!” I managed to convey my urgent message slowly.

An African doctor who was on call came in. “You have a stroke! “ He immediately called for the Medical Officer and his other colleagues. 

The team was at my bedside discussing the next move. They thought I had Bells’ Palsy. A young medical assistant was sent to wheel me to the Pet Scan room on another floor to check if I had blood clot in my brain.

As a patient, I have these IV tubes
opening on my hand.

It is often difficult when I've to deal with the ascites bag
and the urinary bag at the same time
 with the hand.

After we got into the elevator, she started to text using her handphone. As she wheeled me through a long corridor, she stopped several times to do her SMS.  We reached the Pet Scan room. It was 1 am. Hardly any one was around. I sat alone on the wheelchair with my head resting on my palm. 

The African doctor showed up. “Where is the nurse assistant? She shouldn’t leave you alone like this, you could fall off the wheelchair after a stroke like this! She is so irresponsible!” 

“I don’t know, she just left.” I said tiredly.

The doctor looked around and eventually found her sitting at another side of the wall behind me texting on her handphone. He scolded her. “You are not doing your job. I will tell the Head Nurse.”

When I was done with the imaging, I was wheeled outside of the room. The Medical Officer came, “ Are you the nurse assistant who left the patient alone on the wheelchair?” I saw his piercing eyes on her. She sobbed, small tears rolled down her cheeks. 

The Medical Officer did some physical tests on me and studied the imaging results, all the while keeping an eye on what she was doing. This time, she stood behind my wheelchair and I didn’t think she texted any one throughout the examination. “Wheel her back and don’t use your handphone while you are doing this. “ The Medical Officer ordered her.

She wheeled me back but she texted several times again.

When I came to my bed, the waiting nurse was unsmiling. “You caused her to be scolded by the doctor.”

“I didn’t. I just sat there. The doctor saw her using handphone herself,” I defended myself. I didn’t do anything wrong.

For the rest of the night, I had to wait for a long time before any nurse came to help me.

By Ching Ching 

Going Under the Knife

At 6 am, the nurse who woke me up told me to eat breakfast fast because I would have my laproscopy this morning.  Anxiety hanged over me, I could only finish one piece of bread and some scramble eggs.

A man in white came with a bed on wheels. I signed a form declaring the cash and content in my handbag before I left my bed. Unsteady, I almost fell down trying to get onto the surgical bed which was rather high. The man told me. “You should not simply step up and down, if you fall, they will scold me.” 

But why didn’t he helped me in the first place instead of doing SMS on his handphone?

I was wheeled away.

The waiting room was cold. My bed was one of eight in the waiting room. I wasn’t the only one who strained my head high up to see what was happening around me.

Don't look at these
when you are in the operating theatre

"Wrrrrrr”, I was in the operating theatre. A medical assistant asked me for my name and ward number, and had me signed a consent form.

Dr W stood in front of me. “This is Dr TXY who will give you the anesthesia. It will be over in a few minutes.”

The aesthesis doctor introduced himself to me. I pleaded to him to be gentle on my arms by showing him all my bruised veins.

“Don’t worry, I will be gentle, I know how it feels when you are scared.” He calmed me down by massaging my arm where he was going to inject the pain killer.

I asked about the big computer on my right side. “This computer will show us the condition of your ovary,” Dr W explained patiently.

 My view from the bed. Trust was what I had.

I closed my eyes when the pains from the needle prick became intense. “Ah Ba, give me your tai chi energy” I said to Father and saw him standing there with his palms facing me, transferring energy to me. 

“Uum mani pak meh home.” I chanted.

When I woke up, I was in my ward.

“Don’t move, you have to lay like this with a stone on your thigh for at least two hours,” a nurse came in to take my blood pressure and temperature.

My leg was tied to the railing and a sort of stone was resting on my thigh. Since laproscopy is minimally invasive, I should be able to walk after two hours!

I asked for foods because I didn’t have lunch. “Lunch is gone.” She said.

“I’ve some crackers in my drawer, can you get for me? And let me sit up a bit to eat the crackers.”

She took the crackers out of the drawer and put them on the table. I couldn’t reach “Can you bring the table nearer to me and open the cracker bag? My hands are very numb today, I can’t do many things.” She did, reluctantly. Then I remembered I forgot to ask for water. “May I have some water?”

“Wait, I am buzy.”

I never got my water. It was Sara who poured me water from her flask. Then she rolled down the bed for me to rest.

Two hours passed, the nurse didn’t come.  When she came, she said, “We will let you rest like this for six hours!”

I felt like a deflated balloon. It is no fun laying on my back in the same position for six hours.

A urinary clip was inserted in me so I would have to carry a urinary bag around besides the ascitis bag

I felt confused when I went to the toilet. I had to remember to clip the ascitis bag’s hooks, and pull the standing trolley with the urinary bag.

How a urinary catheter works.

The catheter with very long tube,
kind of makes me feel uncomfortable

I asked for help from a nurse“Please, tolong”, I pleaded. “I need help today because the surgical hole is still painful.” She brought a vomit container for me to rinse my mouth. Just as she took out my tooth brush, it dropped on the floor. She picked it up and gave it back to me without washing it.

“Can you wash the tooth brush? I will get infection in my mouth if I use a dirty tooth brush. You know all of us patients are getting bacterial infection all the times,” I pleaded again.

“You are a nuisance,” she said but she rinsed my tooth brush for may be one minute under the tap.

I heaved a long sigh when all was done.

Pong’s smiling face came to my mind, “I’ve so many surgeries I can’t even count. The wounds are painful but as patients, we have to bear with the pains. Just let things be, and keep your mind strong so you can use your mind to get well!”

By Ching Ching

Awful Days

I hate weekends. The ward is more than a zoo－ animals in a zoo don’t make so much noises and commotion.Visiting families start to come into the ward as early as 9 am and they talk loudly till after 11 pm. Kids, adults—all the same, and peeking faces from behind my drawn curtains. There was a constant flow of noisy visitors with handphones. I felt irritated with the noise and disturbance. And the worst feeling for a patient was this – you have no right to ask for quietness and peace so you can rest because this is the public ward, and it is the way it is.

My family came to see me but I wanted them to stay not more than two hours. “Go home and rest or run you errands. I am fine here, there are nurses and doctors. They take good care of me,” I assured them.

I don’t want to tell them the truth, otherwise someone will take off from work to be with me and mother will forgo her daily activities with her retired neighbors. She deserves to enjoy her life without me burdening her.

Same problem with foods. Sara and I have been given the wrong diet for the whole weekend. The printed list of patients and diets showed the opposite of what Sara and I were supposed to get. I asked the young man who delivered food to change it, he told me he couldn’t and walked off. “Ask them on Monday, it is not my business, I only deliver the trays.”

So Sara and I switched our trays. 

I was still eating when he collected my tray. “I haven’t finished, I still have 15 more minutes to eat,” I reminded him.

“It is Sunday, I want to go home early, so I am collecting early.”

Such is life here. 

I remember Pong telling me that she too got the wrong kinds of foods in KLGH but she didn’t complain, she just didn’t eat it and went hungry. Since her family is in Ipoh, no one brought her her favorite foods to give her a break from hospital foods. I must remember to check with her daily about what she is given for meals when she comes for surgery in August in UM. 

By Ching Ching

More Learning

All of us patients watch the cleaning ladies at work from our beds. We shake our heads when we see them simply mop the floor with one wash of the broom and a five-minute quick swing of the mop on the general areas.

When they wash the toilets, those of us with beds in front of the toilets can see so clearly what they do: They wash the floor without using the floor brushes they carry with them. They stand at one side of the toilet as if they were gardeners watering potted plants. Motionless, they spray water with the washing tube to try to wash away the shoe prints and dirt on the floor. They don’t bother with using the floor cleaning solutions and sanitizing solutions in their buckets or scrub the floor with the floor brushes properly. As a result, the tile edges are dark with molds and a waft of stinky rotten smells come onto you when you walk into the toilet. You feel like puking.

When they wash the toilet bowls, they do the same thing—spraying water all over and into the toilet bowl. This is why the toilet bowls have brown stains because they hardly use their brushes. The sink is also sprayed with water instead of being washed with cleaning solutions. The upper  edge with the wall has a line of black mold. The white washing tube is dark with mold. When they are supposed to use a piece of cloth with anti-bacterial solutions to wipe our table surfaces and our bed railings, they do it so fast that we laugh.

 Dirty Toilets in the hospital.

This is why the toilets are smelly and moldy and chokingly awful especially during weekends.

Things may change for a few days if we complain.

I made my first complaint to the Head Nurse. “We are all taking antibiotics because we keep getting infections from the ward. The cleanliness of the ward has to do with the cleaning lady. Look at the this toilet, “ I showed her our filthy toilet.  “It is only 11 am and it is so dirty because the cleaning lady didn’t really clean it except spraying water.”

Then the cleaning lady came in, she said as she walked past our beds, “So much work to do to serve all these princesses.” She banged the toilet seat, sprayed the water all over the toilet until our towels were wet.

But the toilet was cleaner than before.

Close-up of mould on the plaster around the sink

Mould on the floor.

  

  

How can we not get bacteria infection with mould like these in the toilets?

Mould on toilet walls

It doesn’t seem that she has been trained properly to   understand bacteria and patients and how to clean a hospital   toilet.  There are many diseases caused by moulds. Also the cleaning contractor’s supervisor who sometimes walks around, can’t he see with his own eyes? Doesn’t he do a spot check?   Doesn’t he realize that cleaning solutions are not used?   Unless the cleaning solutions go somewhere else…..

Don’t they have internal audit for such a multimillion dollar contract? Don’t the hospital administrators do spot checks on  the contractors? Why don’t they ever install a feedback  system from patients as to the quality of the service? I am sure many patients and their families have seen with the own eyes how dirty the toilets and wards are. Does one have to keep complaining to get the rights in the patient’s charter?Don’t contractors who receive multimillion contracts implement the terms agreed well before they get another renewal? 

How can a cleaning company with a multimillion dollar contract to clean a hospital does not know that using white vinegar will get rid of the mould? If the company wants to maximize its profit by not buying mould cleaning solutions in the market, then use vinegar as it is a low cost, non-allergic solution.

I don’t understand.

But as a patient, I can only wonder.   

By Ching Ching