All That Hurts

The ward is especially noisy in the day time. Much of the noises are contributed by family members of patients.

A Chinese woman was standing by a wall, yelling onto her handphone, “So you blame me for mother’s cancer? Of course it is not your fault so you won’t pay!”  She banged her phone onto the wall, and at one point, almost screamed profanities into it. Her mother who just had a cancerous tumor removed,  laid on the bed, shutting her eyes throughout the ordeal. She didn’t eat her dinner that night.

The heated argument, temper tantrums from carers stress patients out. Fighting and screaming in front of a patient is very traumatic for anyone who is already in fear of the disease and wanting comfort from family.

There are other family members who argue in front of the patients. It makes the rest of us uncomfortable having to listen to people fighting each other in the ward. It makes us feel that the society is cruel and cold and hopeless.

I sighed when I heard the woman continued her angry lashings even when the doctor’s team was by her mother’s bed side. How sad!  She was so absorbed that she didn’t even ask the doctors about her mother’s progress.

She continued. It was all about money and who has the time to come to the hospital. It seemed that she was the only one while the rest of the siblings abdicated their responsibilities with various excuse.

So when the doctor’s team came to mine, I asked if they would discharge me and let me go to vote on Sunday and to celebrate mother’s day with my daughter. I wanted to go home, away from such negative atmosphere. The doctor told me they had to observe me till the afternoon before they made a decision.

At 4 pm, an older doctor, a senior doctor came to check on me. He was satisfied, “We need you to vote to make changes, so we will discharge you for home leave today. You can come back on Monday!” Another reason was my father’s first death anniversary on Wesak Day.

I was so happy with my first discharge to home.  I packed within minutes but it took me more than four hours before the paper work and payment were completed. The nurse took the ascites tapping tube off, so I went home with water flowing from the hole!

“What is the best I can do at home?” I asked cautiously.

“Make sure that everything in your house is clean so you don’t get infected!” Her only advice.

It was raining when my sister came. It took us more than an hour to get home. We tried to find the gauze and dressing plaster needed for my tapping but the pharmacy did not sell them. So we rushed into a small clinic and got what the clinic offered us.

That night, my daughter changed my dressing on my bed. The little new nurse is now learning to be gentle and how to do things in a more septic condition.

It felt so good to finally lay on my own bed after all these months of absence.

By Ching Ching

1 Malaysia

The ward is very multiracial and shared by male and female patients. Some rooms are for male patients while others for females. There seemed to me more male patients, they were mostly Indian men with lung cancer due to heavy smoking, and also liver cirrhosis due to heavy drinking. The men are mostly from the lower echelon of the society.  Most of them seemed to have problems understanding medical care as they fought the nurses over needles, drips and blood drawing.  Some even threw their medication away.

X ray of a lung with cancerous cells.

The Indian male patient who had been howling all day and all night now screamed at the top of his lungs for help.  It was unnerving to listen to him.  Nurses rushed in and he was scolded for pulling his IV tube out, moving his arm away in the midst of blood drawing, and kicking at his dining table.

My mother striked up a conversation with an elderly Chinese lady next door. She couldn’t sleep at night so she promised my mother to take care of me at night. Sure enough, she came around at night, drawing the curtains around me to prevent the cold air conditioned air from over powering me, pulling at my blanket so that my toes were covered, and asking me if I needed warm water.

I told the elderly lady that
she was an angel in real life.

Around midnight, a loud commotion was heard, an Indian man shouted, “Ooi, how can you poke the needle in him when he is in pain?”

Then more shouting, the nurses yelled, “Call the security! He is pulling off the IV tube!” 

Two security men rushed in and took the friend out of the ward.  He pleaded with them that he had no money for the bus and it was too late to walk home. The security man told him to sleep on the chairs on the ground floor or get out of the hospital totally.  I listened as if I was listening to a radio drama series. One can hear clearly everything that occurred in that room in the dead of the night.

The male patient continued to moan throughout the night. I wondered if he ever got any sleep.

Because I have not been able to sleep.

By Ching Ching

First Hospital Death

My roommate had a foul mood. He scolded his wife and yelled at his mother for not cooking his favorite dishes and gets someone to send to the hospital.

Commotions were heard in the ward early in the morning, the elderly Malay woman in the opposite room was in critical condition. Oxygen tank was moved into her room and she was transferred into a single room by herself. A room where the door is closed at all times and there is a red light outside to indicate bacteriacidal rays being spread in the interior of the room.

Her family members stood along the corridor, most of them were constantly on the handphone telling other family members what happened. Her sons prayed non-stop at her bedside. An elderly man sat on a chair infront of the room, he had been there all night long. He looked very tired but he wouldn’t go home.

Somewhere in the late afternoon, the elderly lady took her last breath as the prayers got louder. Then someone cried. Nurses rushed in. Then they were cleaning the room with sanitizer………..

I closed my eyes.

But I couldn’t shut the moaning, screaming noises and my roommate’s curses away from my ears.

By Ching Ching

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