“Good news, you don’t have any of those things we are testing!” The surgeon congratulated me.
At one point, the surgeon wanted to give me a small intestine probe, but I remembered that I had barium just several hours before for x-ray, now Barium again for the intestines?At the operating table, I refused the gulp of barium from a nurse. I asked her why I was given barium twice in less than ten hours. I felt very weak and helpless, and knew that I should trust the medical care given by a private medical center which charges high for every treatment given to me. Who am I to question a surgeon with a high social status? Despite the self doubts and the fear of anger retaliation, there was a small voice telling me to fight for my life. I was only asking for the reason, why couldn’t he explain to me and dispel my fear?
The surgeon came into the operating table, angry, “ I don’t want to treat patients like you. You are non-cooperative. I am a Datuk and I know what I am doing, either you do what I want or we are finished with you being my patient.”
“You haven’t explained to me why I have to take two gulps of barium within ten hours!” I shot back weakly, feeling stupid. What did I know about surgery and ascities. But something small inside told me to ask. Barium is not like curry laksa, it is radio active!
He walked off. I was left on the operating table. Cold and shivering.
A few minutes later, the nurse came in. “I am still not taking barium in such a short time.” I insisted feebly.
She went inside another room to explain my case to another doctor.I was then wheeled to the ultrasound room. This time it was a woman doctor. She smiled and held my cold hands, “I am going to do ultrasound on your belly, this is the computer which will show the images I am looking for.” Her reassuring voice dispelled my fears. She applied gel onto my belly, “This is a bit cold, the gel helps me to move the scanner smoothly,” she said. Then she pressed a scanner onto my belly, “See? This whole section here is water.” She explained in a soft kind voice as she did the scanning, I began to relax and participate by asing, “What is this?” She gave me a tapping -- making, a small opening on my belly with a fibre optic needle to drain the fluid into a bag. “ You should feel better after several hours!” She assured me.
When I was wheeled back to my room, I thought to myself, “What a pleasant experience!”
There began my interesting journey with the ‘bag’.For someone who has never been sick before, managing your own case and finance is completely new. I was enjoying the attention from two doctors, coming daily to see me, telling me the same thing. I didn’t know that for every visit, I was charged till an angel whispered to me, “Check your hospital bill before you agree to more.”
I asked for my bill. What? It was already Rm30,000, the maximum my insurance will pay for every admission. So when the gynaecologist told me the next course was to snip my ovary, since I didn’t need it to prevent ovary cancer, I stopped him, “How much will that cost?”: So when the gynaecologist told me the next course of treatment was to snip off my ovary since I didn’t need it and the surgery would prevent ovary cancer, I asked him, “How much will that cost?”
"Rm 15,000 would be my fees, besides operating theatre costs, nursing costs, medication costs, and support staff costs, you are looking at Rm 25,000!”
That night, I told my family and friends about this. Every one insisted that I moved out of the hospital and get a second opinion.
So I had a complete health check. By the time, I checked out, two weeks later, l they didn’t know what was causing the ascites except pointing at Mead’s Syndrome.: So I had a complete health check in this private hospital. By the time, I checked out of the hospital two weeks later, the doctors still didn’t know what was causing the ascites except pointing at Mead’s Syndrome. It is disappointing! And it spells the end of my trust to a private hospital.
By Ching Ching
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