I actually DID Enjoy My Stay at the Singapore General Hospital
Yes, I very much did. I know it sounds weird.
I was first sent to the hospital via an ambulance from the hotel where I served my 14-day quarantine with my family on the 30th of September 2020. That was my first time riding in an ambulance too. I continued to serve my quarantine there in isolation and then started the treatment that ended in July the following year.
It has been three years since. Despite worrying and missing my child, I was pretty glad that I didn’t have to worry about the daily chores anymore, such as washing the dishes and cooking. The most joyous moment was probably the time when I got to order the meals to be served the next day. In order to stay alive and stay strong during the treatment, I always finished all the food served and even asked for Milo (hot chocolate with milk) and biscuits for snacking multiple times throughout the day.
The nurses and doctors were really nice. To be honest, it felt fantastic. Right before I got sent to SGH, I was isolated at home with only my partner and a child who was 18 months old. I had zero chance to interact with other humans except for the doctors and staff during my medical consultations and examinations two weeks before our return to Singapore. I was really happy to be back in Singapore and be able to talk to hospital staff from day until night. There was always someone around me, in close proximity.
I was hospitalized for about 3 months in total, more than half of the time I was assigned to the Class C ward, which was the “lowest grade” ward. In some Class C wards, there were six beds, and in some, there were eight. Prior to this, I was someone who would insist on never sharing a room with anyone else. The only room-sharing experiences I had were either with my sister during my childhood or with boyfriends. I hated the idea of sharing toilets and bathrooms with other people. Therefore, in the beginning, it did take me a few days to get used to staying in such a setting.
However, it was that setting that gave me the opportunity to observe the patients around me. I stayed in Ward 42, which was a female ward dedicated to only cancer patients as they required special care. I saw patients moaning and wailing in pain and despair, and at the same time, I chatted with jolly good-spirited patients who were already diagnosed with terminal-stage cancer and approaching the end of their lives.
At the age of 34, I was the youngest patient in the ward, and my ward-mates were surprised to see me there and got really curious. I could see lots of sympathy in their eyes, and at that moment, even though we were so vastly different, our hearts got connected right away somehow. Looking back now, I guess it isn’t a common sight to see young patients in Ward C because most younger patients like myself would probably have bought medical insurance that allows them to stay in better wards or even in private hospitals.
I read books and wrote journals while listening to the moans and wailings, as well as the beeping sounds of the medical devices in the ward and the corridor. I looked forward to the time when the nurses drew my blood; it felt both scary and relieving. I enjoyed cracking jokes with the nurses and doctors while trying to stalk the latter on LinkedIn. I was happy when my friends and family visited, and when I could occasionally call my child — she was well taken care of by her dad, grandmother, as well as our Burmese helper.
There were days when I was completely bedridden and feeling so weak that I had to be wheeled to different departments for examinations and treatments. The uncles and aunties who worked as the porters were really kind to cheer me up every single time. It felt really strange, as they were already in their fifties and sixties or even seventies; by right, I should be the one taking care of the elderly, but they served me so gently and carefully. We wore masks full-time, but I could still see them smiling at me through their eyes.
I spent some time in the emergency department too before getting warded. All the medical staff were really busy running around nonstop. It wasn’t the most pleasant place to be for sure, and I didn’t like to use the toilets there. Right after my reconstruction surgery, I was sent to the Intensive Care Ward. I remember a Malay male nurse who took care of me the whole night — he was the first and only male nurse who took care of me. I felt extremely awful post-surgery. I felt like vomiting but I couldn’t, with all the pain and grogginess; it was as if a super bad hangover in hell mode. He was there with me most of the time, talking to me and comforting me. He wiped my tears away when I was crying and told me why he wanted to be a nurse. I looked at his oversized body; he certainly wasn’t healthy, and the night shifts, the not-so-healthy diets, etc., had probably taken a toll on him. He rode a motorbike to work every day, and there was one time he got into a road accident as he was too tired after work.
When I was feeling alright, I walked around the hospital, from one department to another. I visited some “mini-exhibitions” and read about the history of the hospital. The hospital was packed with people, staff, and visitors alike. Babies were born while many others were dying.
At this moment, I’m glad I’ve made it out and wish no one would ever need to be hospitalized due to sickness or injuries. Whenever I think about my stay in SGH, my heart is filled with warmth and love. I have so much respect for all the staff there, from the cleaners to the doctors; they are all awesome. I am thankful that they made my stay enjoyable even during the time when I was fighting so hard just to stay alive.
“Thank you!”
Like my article? I would greatly appreciate your support in fundraising for the causes below! Thank you!
Ireland: Irish Cancer Society, Arc Cancer Support Centre
Singapore: Singapore Cancer Society
Personal: Raine’s Trip to Japan
