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