Chapter 3
19 Sep 2005 (Monday), 0900 hrs.
My heart was iron-heavy as I stepped into the vicinity of NUH. The feeling was emphatically uneasy. I went to where I am supposed to report and waited placidly, with mum and dad. There were scores of people waiting, but none had any cheers on their face. The mood was vehemently serious and I was conformed to think that the fear of operation must be universal. These people must be feeling and thinking the same way as I do, or at least along the same direction.
There weren’t any running kids, despite the presence of kids. Even the innocent ones did understand the implication of operation and disciplined themselves. The medical workers were indulging in their work and the patients were just watching boring current affairs on televisions - it was like two separate realms. I see people constantly peering over the electronic queue number and checking out the little slip of paper in their hands, which made me wondered if they are that anxious to get on with what’s in store for them. Many pairs of eyes darted around when there was a ‘beep’ sound, signaling a change in queue. The mood was incredibly intense.
My turn was up and soon, all my administrative issues were processed. I was then wheeled to a given ward - ward 41, bed 25, but was later asked to change to bed 10. What a scenario to begin my nightmare! Perhaps there was some administrative discrepancy, but being the sensitive me, I canÂ’t help but to think that it could be a sign of misfortune. Though I was too mentally preoccupied to invest further thoughts into the mundane, who knows? What if I was only destined to die on that bed? (TOUCH WOOD!)
A quick glance around probably revealed that I was the youngest there. The patients in my wards were probably three times my age.
And of course, there were nurses; student nurses to be precise.
Then, I saw this Nanyang Polytechnic nurse who was speaking to a patient directly opposite me. Actually, she was just being nice by lending a listening ear to his rant because from her body language, I could tell that she was wishing she could quickly flee from this scene and get on with her work. You see, the elderly are usually the loneliest and if they could engage a conversation with someone, they will start telling you their tales, plight or younger-days encounters.
I was grinning from my seeming-intellectual deduction and I think she caught the grin.
Still, my eyes were pretty fixed onto the clock at the top of the far wall. Time was ticking towards the hour of my fated destiny – Soon, a short-syringe was injected into my left wrist and left it dangling - a prelude to any operations.
‘Hi, I am sorry to disturb. I am a student nurse and I need to do your case study.’
It was that NYP nurse. I looked at her with an appraising eye and immediately, she become abashed. Wah rao! Not as if I am going to eat her lor.
‘Ok, go on.’
She began to pound on me with a series of questions, which I thought it was academically-standard sort of school questions. She probably has to sound and appeared professional, but the minor details betrayed the fact that she was in fact a verdant nurse. Her feet were turning inwards and a little shuffling. Her glances were everywhere as if she feared maintaining eye contact (and physical distance) during our conversation and every sentence she said, ended with a shy, girly smile that revealed two deep dimples.
She was petite and had tied her hair up, like all other nurses. Because she was so absorbed in her writing, I could see her eyeliner and nymph-like eyes when her attention shifted to the piece of paper, which I suspected to be her tutorial or internship-based homework. Her hands were perpetually holding the edge of her uniform pocket, taking them out only to jolt my replies. I caught a glance of her name tag, pinned on her chest, which engraved ‘Angeline Leow’.
‘Thanks Angeline.’
She spared another smile and nodded awkwardly, before making an exit.
Reality forced me back after being ‘greeted and welcomed’ by a cute nurse. Later, I was given a set of clothing to change in and after taking my own sweet time; I was no different from the other patients in my ward. Then, the operation bed was ready for me to descend in and prepare for my dreaded journey.
I could see mum praying and dad appearing strong on the exterior.
‘I will be fine!’
I lay on the bed and was wheeled out of my ward. Somehow, it felt like movie scenes where you could picture the protagonist being pushed into the operation room. The vision I captured, which was probably what you would see in cinema: the ceiling with rows of florescence light, medical workers around you pushing the wheeled bed, the riding movements, the pressure and everything else. What it lacked was a sad music to certain impeding doom.
‘Are you scared?’
I was surprised to see Angeline along side with the other medical workers. She was with another NYP nurse, whom I thought that they must be friends. Then, I was pushed into some deserted, empty corridor, which was saturated with biting coldness, before I was parked into one room and waited.
‘Ok lar. So, are you girls following me all the way until my operations finishes?’
Angeline shook her head.
‘We can only observe actual operation during our final year.’
As our conversation flowed, I realized that they are only year one students (17 years old), and having their first internship in NUH. There was some exchange of laughter, which helped me to clear some congregated negative thoughts, before Angeline and the other NYP nurse made their way out.
‘Good luck!’ cheered Angeline.
In return, I winked at her before I was pushed into the operation theater.
Blinding lights were shone directly into my face.
‘Relax; this will make you feel better…’
(To be continued...)
Qing ren yan li chu xi si (beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder). Therefore, beauty is subjective.