The Final Cut

Thank God each human being has only two legs....at least, I'm thankful that I've got only two legs and so, at most, I could only have two legs that needed fixing, thankfully nothing more!


June 7 : Admitted to NUH to prepare myself for the next day's operation.

Couldn't sleep that night. Why? Mm...same reason as why I could never sleep in hotel rooms when I travel...new, unfamiliar environment, strange bed with no familiar scent, and even stranger environmental sounds.

In this case, the sounds came from the BANG BANG BANG and the occasional shout or whistle that the wind carries over from the nearby construction site (I think it's from where they're building that MRT- Circle Line). Then, there are the sounds from motorised hospital beds that go creaking up to a sitting-up position, bathroom doors that go bumping to a close and trolleys that go "cringe, crang, criche, crick, criche, crick, criche" down the corridor from the nursing station to rooms, and then from room to room.

Judging from the noise generated, one would think that I was in a room full of patients, right?
Wrong.

This time around, I found myself in the Kent Ridge Wing and with a whole room all to myself. I decided that I've had enough of room-sharing! Once bitten, twice shy! But in my case, it was Twice bitten, thrice sure to cry!" I didn't want to end up in tears over this hospital stay. And so, I opted to have a room all to myself.

However, despite enjoying great privacy and the luxury of tranquil solitude and of golden silence from not having anyone else in the room besides myself, I still can't help but feel that there's no place like home!


Down Memory Lane...

I'll never forget the experience of my previous stay at NUH, especially that of the time when I was placed in the Renal Ward. There, I had to share the nurses' attention with that suicidal neighbour who refused to have her dialysis done. Her constant ranting and raving made it impossible for me to rest. In fact, with my leg in a cast on those first two days immediately after the operation, I felt so insecure and unsafe. It's really no joke sleeping next to someone so violent, you just can't feel safe!

The whole night long, she would be screaming or moaning and groaning. Otherwise, she would be yelling at the nurses or would be banging at the metal bed-railing, demanding to be allowed to go home. I kept wondering to myself, "What if she got desperate in the middle of the night and came over to my bed to vent her frustration at me? With my leg in a cast, I wouldn't even be able to dodge her blows. I'll be at her mercy!"

The worst was when she threatened to jump. There I was, lying on the bed closest to the door, with my leg in a cast and unable to get up to help myself, or anybody else, and there she was, threatening to go out through that very door to the corridor to jump down to her death! Oh my goodness! I raised the alarm, of course! When the nurses got wind of her intentions, they locked the door and tied her to her bed. And THAT was IT! My nightmare started after that.

For the rest of my stay there, I could not sleep for anything longer than a few minutes at a time. Our Mdm "Nak Balek" would rattle the bed-railings, scream and shriek till all the other patients in the whole ward crowded around our door to see what was happening, and she would deliberately and repeatedly jam her foot in the bed-railing and would scream "Sakit"!

The harried nurses would then rush in to free her leg and the moment their backs were turned, she would squeeze her leg through and have it jammed in the railings again. The whole circus-act would be repeated over and over again until they finally decided to have her sedated.It was only then that all of us could have some peace and quiet.

Was it any better after that? No! After having been sedated, Mdm Nak Balek aka Mdm Sakit settled down for a nice, peaceful sleep for about an hour, or so. When she woke from that bout of sleep, she started again, crying and whimpering, saying she wants to call home.

With her hands tied to the bed, she couldn't dial the phone. She begged me to help her dial home. But, how was I supposed to help her? I myself was immobile. My leg was still in a cast and I, myself, could hardly move about on my own bed. Finally, one of the visitors of the other patient in the room helped her to call home.

Two hours later, at lunch time, her children (working adults, I suppose?!) came to visit. They managed to soothe and calm her, and even managed to persuade her to go for dialysis. Henceforth, the patient stopped "harrassing" the nurses and other in-patients, but another kind of problem started.

Mdm Nak Balek had her name changed to "Awak Tak Boleh Balek aka Awak Nak Pulang". She simply would not allow her children to leave. Even if they wanted to go for dinner, she would make them promise that they would return in ten minutes, and she would insist that at least one of them would stay with her while the others went to eat. At all cost, she would have them, or at least, one of them, stay by her bedside 24 hours a day, or else....

And so, they stayed. Her children, I mean. Her sons and daughters came and "parked" themselves there by her bedside, armed with enough snacks and drinks to last them the whole of eternity!

From then on, noise of another kind kept us all (except Mdm Balek) awake...if it wasn't the "Creek Crack Creek"from their opening packets of potato chips, it was their "Munch, Munch, Chomp, Chomp", followed by "Burp, Belch, Burp" or their "Hee Hee Heh Heh GUFFAW HA HA HA!" from watching all those silly sitcoms on TV! In the dark of the night, the flickering lights on the ceiling from her TV screen was most irritating to someone who hadn't been able to rest and sleep for a LONG LONG time!


Sigh! For 5 days, I was sleepless in NUH! How to forget that episode in my life? Not easily, of course, especially for someone like me....someone for whom sleep is so important and so much treasured! I need my 8 hours! 10 if possibe! But here she was, this Mdm Sakit, robbing me of my much-needed sleep. She was a real Sakit!

I know I am being mean to harbour such unsympathetic and unforgiving thoughts towards her. I almost can't help myself! I know, I know! She was unwell. BUT SO WAS I! We both needed rest! Wasn't the hospital staff supposed to facilitate rest and recovery?

Hey! I had my own battles to fight! What, with all that pain from having my bones sawed and screwed down together, and all the bruises and swelling to bear with! I really didn't have much energy left to bear with any much more besides! And I had to have her to be my neighbour!

Then there was the other time when I stayed over at another ward in the Main Building when I had to share room with this EXTREMELY attention-seeking Mandarin-speaking Japanese old lady.

Every 5 minutes or so, our dear Madam would sound the call-bell to summon the nurses to her bedside. When they came in, she would tell them, "I want that jar of face cream on that trolley. Hand that to me!" or "Get me my comb. It's in my bag which is in the drawer there." Or it would be, "When will lunch be served?" or "I want to get onto the arm chair, I am tired of lying down on the bed". It's always one thing or another, always urgent (to her) but never life-threatening, but she would keep pressing that call-bell until someone comes to be with her and to talk to her. That would be the case all through the day AND NIGHT!

It was impossible to sleep with the BEEP BEEP BEEP going on incessantly! Not only were the nurses' patience tested, but even I (who am, ahem, quite "renowned" for my patience, ahem...blush blush) was driven to my limits! I found myself asking,"What now?! What DO you want? What could you possibly be asking for now?! Surely you've asked for everything that you could possibly have thought of asking for?!"

I really take my hats off to the nurses. How could they refrain from giving her a good shake and telling her to just STOP it! STOP PRESSING THAT BUZZER! GIVE US ALL A BREAK! Give me a break! I need my sleep!

And so, this time round, I made sure I had a room all to myself!

Nonetheless, there I was, all alone in the quiet of my own room, and yet, still sleepless. Why?

Humph! I guess everyone (or most people, at least) would probably be in the same boat, if they were, like me, awaiting the FINAL CUT which was to take place the following day!

All through that night, I lay half awake, thinking...

Oh..there we go again...the endless rounds of questions asked repeatedly by one nurse after another, "Do you have any dentures? Any braces? Any loose teeth? Any jewellery on you? When was the last time you had any food and drinks? Do you know what operation you're going in for? Has your op site been marked? Whose signature is this? Who signed this? Is this your signature?" Yada yada yada...

Then, there is the "prospect" of facing the next day's ordeal in the OT - I especially hate that part of the procedure when they try to locate my elusive veins in order to set up a drip for the op.

Then, there is the constant dread of having to deal with the after-effects of GA on June 8 and June 9! The nausea and the vomitting, the giddiness and the breathlessness, the discomfort and the awful feeling of bloatedness and the utter sense of helplessness...the weakness and the drowsiness. How I hate it all!

All these make me dread taking the next step in my journey towards healing and pain-free days, and yet, what choice do I have but to tread on? I can only find consolation in the fact that this is, probably, going to be the FINAL CUT! No more! I pray. No more operations on my legs after this. Please?! Let this be the last operation which I would have to bear with. Let this be the last GA which I would have to undergo. Amen!

I hope the surgeon's cut and the stitches afterwards would be nice, neat and clean, that the scar left behind this time would not be so long and attention-grabbing. Oh! God, please guide his hands to do a great job...help him as he work on my leg...help him to fix the problems so that I would not need to have anymore operations done to my legs, ever again. Please? Please make this operation a smooth and successful one!

I found myself praying through the night, in between moments of drifting off to a fitful sleep.


June 8. Woke up at 6.30am. The nurse came in at 6.50 to have my temperature and my blood-pressure reading taken. Another nurse came in at 7.30 to ask if I would like to have a shower. When I told her I would like wait because I would like to "catch" the doctor when he comes on his morning rounds, she left saying, "OK...I'll come back later. Call us if you need anything,yeah?"

8.20am. The ward doctor came. Checked on me, answered my questions and left. I was all set to face the day.

9.00 plus...the housekeeping team came in to have the bedsheets changed, a nurse came in to take my order for dinner, another came in to hand me the gown which I was to put on before going downstairs to the Operating Theatre. Another round of temperature and blood-pressure reading taken.

11.05am. A nurse came in to announce that the porter would be coming up shortly, in about 20 minutes or so, to take me down to the Operating Theatre.

A flurry of SMSes to husband and children to inform them that I was going off for surgery, and of messages from them to tell me they loved me and that I was to be calm and confident in the LORD, and so on.

11.10am or thereabout. Michelle from School called me on my mobile phone. It seems the VP instructed her to call to find out when I was to be hospitalised and when I was due to return to work. I told her that I was, in actual fact, getting ready to proceed downstairs for the operation. Shocked, she mumbled, "Oops! You mean you're already in hospital?"

"Yeah. In about 20 minutes' time, I shall be downstairs in the Operating Theatre. I shan't be able to tell you when I am due to return to work...at least, not until after the operation,"

I couldn't resist adding, impishly, "and if I should wake again after the GA, I would call the school to inform you of the possible date of my discharge from hospital...at this point of time, I shan't be able to tell you when or even if I would be able to return to work. "

With that, I went off to the bathroom to get into my OT gown.

11.20am. Having locked all my valuables in the safe, I hoisted myself onto the trolley bed and placed myself in the good hands of the OT attendants as they wheeled me downstairs to meet the team in the OT.

11.30am. The rounds of questioning started. One nurse after another. Same questions over and over again.

11.50am. Heard the sound of soft whimpering...it was as if someone was sobbing and crying quietly in a corner of the room. Couldn't contain my sense of curiosity. Got up to take a peek in the direction from which the cry came. Saw this little child who was crying in bed. Next to him/her was the mother who was trying her best to calm/soothe/console the poor frightened child.

I started to pray for that child. My own fear and dread for my own operation was put aside. My heart went out to that poor frightened child. I wanted to tell that child, "It's ok. Don't be afraid.It will come to pass. Look at me. I've been through this several times now, and I'm none the worse for it. In fact, when this is all over, you'll be stronger and in better shape. So, don't cry. Be brave!"

Then I found myself chiding myself, "You hypocrite! You would tell the child not to be frightened, and what about you? Five minutes ago, you yourself were fretting away in dread and fear of what you are about to undergo. Who are you to tell this child to be brave?" And so, I determined in my heart and my mind to be brave. To set a good example. I placed my confidence once more in the LORD, and I asked the LORD to help me be calm. I focussed on praying for that child and soon lost track of time.

12.30pm. I'm still there on that trolley bed, awaiting my turn to be pushed into the OT.

12.45pm. A man was wheeled into the room. They "parked" his trolley bed behind me. "When did you say you last ate and drank? This morning? I'll have to inform the doctor and await his further instructions. Please wait here." Silence. Sigh, the man heaved a long heavy sigh.

12.50pm. "Can you move this bed and let me put her here, next to this lady?" A nurse came in with another trolley-bed. Several moments of clinging and clanging later, a young lady was wheeled next to me. She looked troubled. I gave her a smile, hoping to lift her spirits and to cheer her up a little. Without even a glance at me, she turned away.

Wah! So cold! Aiyah...maybe she was really in pain, lah! Never mind, lah. Leave her alone.

"Do you know what operation you are going in for?" the nurse asked that young lady.
"Yes," she answered.
"What?" the nurse pressed further.
"Abortion" came her reply.

Ah...so! So that was why she didn't wish to make eye contact with me. No wonder she was deep in thought and she looked so troubled. She must have been having her own internal battles to fight. Of course she wouldn't even have noticed me trying to cheer her up. My heart went out to her, too.

I found myself now praying for the child, the man who ate breakfast and for this young lady who was about to have a piece of herself cut off from her life. Lord, would she end up feeling "haunted" like my mother does by the memory of her aborted child? Would the memory of this child continue to "haunt" her conscience for the rest of her life? Please, Lord, please help her to deal with it. Help her to come to know you as her Saviour and her Friend, so that she can deal with it in your strength and with your help.

1.10pm. A dashing looking Filipino man came to my bedside. In a deep, attractive voice, he announced that I will soon be wheeled in to the OT. Having asked me, once again, the whole series of questions ("Do you have dentures? Do you have any braces, crowns, or loose teeth? Do you know what operation you are going in for? Whose signature is this? etc etc etc"), he signalled someone standing behind me and together, they wheeled me into the freezing North Pole.

No more clock. Can't keep track of time anymore. Brrrh...it's freezing cold in there! My teeth were soon chattering, despite their having hoisted me onto this narrow bed with a thermal mat that was supposed to keep me warm.

Urgh. That same familiar smell and the same unbearable cold. The glare from the lights and from the reflection from off the metal parts of all the equipment overhead. The blue and green people walking all around me, with head all wrapped up in some sort of shower-cap-like headgear (all, except for one who was wearing a fabric shower-cap with little Winnie-the-Pooh motiffs - later, she was introduced as the Anaesthetist who was to ensure that I would be sleeping soundly throughout the whole "ordeal"). Their faces were all hidden behind masks and I had only their eyes with which I could recognise them by.

I did manage to discern a few familiar faces... well, at least, a little more familiar than the others. Then, the ordeal began. The young doctor next to me announced that he would proceed to set up the drip for me. He started to tap my arm and feel for the vein into which he hoped to insert the needle...the hide-and-seek "game" started.

My elusive veins simply would not cooperate. The young doc was losing his cool. The anasthetist told him, "Be patient. They will all appear, after a while. Just be patient."

Several more frantic minutes of searching for the elusive veins, and after two futile insertions, Miss Winnie-the-Pooh suddenly clamped this plastic mask over my face and announced, "Oxygen for you!"

Pah! Who do you take me for? Such high handedness! Who do you think you're fooling? This is no oxygen! It smells more like Pethidine...like that stuff they gave me when I was in labour during childbirth! Just tell me nicely that you needed to put me to sleep. Don't tell me it's oxygen. I felt insulted. Before I could think any further, however, I started feeling woozie and was starting to drift off...my eyelids became heavy and I couldn't fight to keep them open. Hey, I'm not done with what I am thinking halfway through.....hey....

The next moment, I found myself praying, "God, help me through this..."I just couldn't finish my sentence before I started drifting off to sleep again. Then, I felt I could hear them, what the OT crew was saying to one another, something about the equipment, or something like that. I could sense them. I could hear them. But I couldn't open my eyes, nor could I talk, nor move.

Oh God! Please, PLEASE don't let them cut me up now! Please let them know, somehow, let them know that I'm coming to, that I am going to wake at any moment now. Let them realise that I could hear them and could sense everything they're doing to me. Please, don't let them cut me up now.

Then, I felt I could talk. I hemmed and I hawed, I coughed and I said, "Erh...erh..."

"Yep! It's done now!" Miss Winnie-the-Pooh said.

"Done?" You mean it's all over?" I wondered to myself.

Miss Winnie-the-Pooh tapped me on my shoulder and said, "We've managed to set up the drip for you, finally!" In a few moments' time, we'll put you to sleep and then we're going to start work, yeah?"

"Phew! So, it's not even begun yet!" I struggled to open my eyes. Lifted my head a little and caught sight of my surgeon. "Hi!" He said, "Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine!" He patted me on my shoulder. Then he moved away.

Clumped, the "Oxygen" mask came back over my face without a warning. "We're giving you an injection now. This is going to help you to relax and to sleep." someone said. I didn't feel the syringe, nor did I have much time to feel anything else. Before I could find out who said that to me, I was drifting off to sleep again.

When I next awoke, I was already in the Recovery Room. The nurse there woke me and reminded me, "Mdm, breathe. Take deep breaths! We're going to wheel you back to the ward in about half an hour's time. Don't forget to take deep breaths!"

"What's the time?" I asked.

"Four Plus," came a reply.

After half an hour of nausea and some vomitting, I settled down to rest. Once or twice I drifted off to sleep and forgot to breathe. A beeping sound would then wake me, and the nurse would remind me to breathe, "Take a deep breath, that's right...don't forget to breathe,now. Come on, yes, take another deep breath!"

Eventually, they deemed I was ready to return to the ward. By 4.40 or so, I found myself back in the ward. There, I settled in my bed and drifted off to sleep some more.

That night, and the whole of the next morning, I was vomitting away and that nauseated feeling would not let me rest. Thankfully I was not feeling dizzy.

Well, at least, this time round, the after-effects of GA did not last that long!

Another bonus was that this time round, the cast on my leg was taken off considerably sooner than it was after last year's op on the other leg. That cast really hurts! With it on, one can hardly sleep or do anything at all!

With that cast removed by the second day after the op, I could put on the Ranger's Braces (that Robo-Cop-look-alike Thingy) and hop on my good leg, with the help of the Walking Frame, to the bathroom. Hence, even the discomfort and indignity of having to pee in bed using a bed-pan was banished! Hurray!

I celebrated and gave thanks!

Indeed, Dear Lord, thank you for granting me such a smooth and successful operation, for granting me such a smooth recovery process and for giving me such a speedy recovery from the operation.

Loving, Omniscient, Omnipotent, Omnipresent, Transcendent LORD God Most High,
thank you!
Thank you for watching over me, preserving me and seeing me through this whole episode.
Thank you for being with me all through the whole process, and for giving me strength, courage, peace, patience and all the help you have given me to deal with each moment that I had to undergo. You have walked this journey with me, so far. I know you will continue to journey with me. For that, I am so thankful!

You know what's in store for me in the future. If/Should I ever need to go under GA again, please see me through again. Should this be the final cut that I've to endure, I'm thankful. But, should there be more, I will continue to trust you to lead, strengthen, guide and help me to face it all calmly, confidently and with peace in my heart and mind. For with you there to see me through, I know I can be confident and calm. In your hands, I am safe...yes, even in death, I can rejoice and not fear, for I know where I'm going and who I'm going to be with when I cross over to the other side of eternity.

Thank you, Abba Father. Thank you, my God and my Lord!