Lesson of the day: Frailty I have a fear of going to the hospitals. Its either my naivete or probably indoctrination from my late grandma who always use to gripe, theres no good in going to the hospitals (partly from her own experiences). Just a while ago... as I had my blood drawn on my 8th day of my fever, I cant help but recall the two nights that I was lying down on the stiff, hard beds in the A&E observation wards at TTSH. Its true you see all kinds of people here. From a 11-years-old Bangladeshi girl who was shrilling at the top of her voice when needles were poked into her arm and her mum weeping at the side, in pain too, to the NSF soldier who looked wildly exhausted and dehydrated as if he had just fought a war to 80-plus old lady was just quietly moaning in pain. There was one night my fever hit 40.0C and I was shivering like mad even with 3 layers of blanket and a sweater on me. So I had no choice but to stay awake and take in what was going on around. I noticed one of the nurses in the ward was trying to pacify another old lady in her eighties. She was all scrunched up and in between desperate and heavy gaps for air, she was hugging her abdomen and turning her head ever so often. It turned out that she had removed her oxygen tubes, presumably because it was uncomfortable and foreign to her even though it was necessary. The nurse, on the other hand, was patiently speaking to her in Cantonese and telling her that this is to help her breathe better and persuading her to put those tubes back on. In all willfulness, the old lady just swung the tubes along with the nurses patience and concern away. It was no surprise that this episode escalated into a slight tension. Not before long, the nurse started to get exasperated and helpless. After all, it wasnt wrong to say she had the best of intentions. The old lady was driven further and forward into a little human ball and still breathing as difficult as previously before. As her emotions build up, she started moaning and crying out loud (in English), so much pain. let me die. so much pain. let me die I couldnt help but recall just 8 months ago in early November 2013 when I was likewise staying awake during the wee hours with my late grandmother who was hospitalized with a critical condition. She was on life support and breathing heavily with oxygen tubes through her nose and mouth and at some juncture, she seemed to be telling me, let ah ma go too. Of course, she had no ability to speak to me at all... but it was just an empathic note between my grandma and myself. The old lady continued her chant and started wailing out loud and soon, a few other nurses came to pacify her and put her to rest. The rest of the other patients, including myself, were either looking on or were visibly irritated. In whatever figments of consciousness I had left, I just got reminded of how in this place, we all got shred down to whats humanly common among all of us - our frailty. That we were all fearful of pain, loss, separation, death, hurt amongst many other emotions. That despite what vehicles you rode in with or that an ambulance took you in, youll still lie down on the same damn stiff hospital bed, doing what you can to avoid our same inevitable fate. So why do we not recognize at the end of the day most, if not all, of us just want to be happy? Why the animosity and hatred among people? What drives the backstabbing and sly potshots? Isnt all this fighting on the outside minutiae compared to all the fighting thats going on the inside? Before I could think any further, a middle-aged Indian nurse came by me and smiled, close your eyes, try to rest
Posted on: Mon, 21 Jul 2014 04:54:00 +0000