Forthnights

A memory to cherish

Im not sure if I’ve ever wrote about it, but walking through a hospital, visiting patient by patient can be a real eye opener to how life is sometimes.

Since 2 years ago, I have had the opportunity to go caroling with a bunch of student nurses in the hospital during Christmas time. It always stars about a month earlier, when we all come together for practice. Though we were nowhere nearly as good as full time choirs, I like to think that we had more spirit and raw enthusiasm and sincerity in our singing. Anyway, the practice can get really boring sometimes, especially since most of the girls are always so shy to sing!

But come the actually day, everyone is just a bundle of excitement and energy. I guess you could say the Christmas fever eventually caught on. I remember telling all girls exactly what I have just written, that we cant compete with other caroling troops, well trained and talented, but what we CAN do is spread joy to the people we sing, and if we cant beat their voices, we will beat their enthusiasm. I told them; as we walk through the hospital, let us no let one person go by without being wished a big Merry Christmas! Well, I was really glad it turned out well, and most of the initially shy girls were eventually singing their hearts out.

But what really touched me on that day was not our performance or singing, or our enthusiasm, but the people in the hospital, care givers and receivers alike. There were really some touching moments as we visited ward to ward. As expected, when we entered the maternity ward, virtually all the women were going ga ga over the newborns, some barely a few days old. As we sang our songs, many of us were making funny faces at the babies, trying to make them laugh, and when they did, everyone seemed to just get more excited and do more faces. We went around almost the entire hospital singing our carols in lobbies and lounges, drawing many patients out of their beds and room to see what all the commotion is all about. When some couldn’t come out because of their condition, we went to them instead. There were a few that really stuck to me.

One was when we sang to a chronically ill old uncle in the ICU. We were told not to make to much noise, because they were all in serious condition, so we sang as gently as we could without tearing the place apart. I wasn’t sure if the old uncle could ever hear us, but when we started singing, he turned at looked at us. Sitting there with all sorts of tubes attached to his nose and arms, with intimidating looking machines surrounding the bed, I was glad we managed to extract a smile out of him, even if he didn’t quite understand what was going one.

We also sang to an ever more elderly sister of the age 101, but she was no patient. She was in fact a nun. The only remaining sister who laid the foundations of the hospital we were singing in. The Franciscan Missionaries of Marry nun was still able to run, talk and laugh, unlike some of her much younger counterparts. It was really a privilege to sing a Christmas carol for her since, one she was the founder of the hospital, and secondly, given her age, we knew there would not be many of such occasions anymore.

But the memory I will always carry is one of a little boy of 5 years old. We were almost done fore the night, when we received a special request to sing in a private room. I wanted to say no, but realizing the significance of it, I said yes. The patient was a 5 year old boy suffering from leukemia. Due to his weak body, he was kept in a clean room, and only 6 of us were allowed to come in. The young parents found out barely a few months earlier that there was nothing that could be done for their son, and the best they could do was ease the pain. The little boy was so shy, running to his father, hugging him; I guess he was intimidated by our sneakers wearing Santa. So we began singing Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer to cheer his up followed by Silent night. Halfway through, tears were welling in the fathers eyes and the mother was already silently crying. Only the boy couldn’t understand why his parents were crying. But with every certainty, I knew that this was the first and last time anyone would be singing Christmas carols to this shy little boy. Finishing off our final song, the boys Grandmother tried giving us RM50, as a way of saying thank you. But there was no way we could accept that money.

Fast forward to today, the old uncle, the nun as well as the little shy boy is no longer with us. The boy succumbed to his illness, as well as the old uncle, and the sister eventually died of old age before the next Christmas. I felt a pang of sadness, especially for the 5 year old. The couple seemed no more than 30, and already the out lived their only son. It made me really wonder how it feels like to work in a hospital, as a nurse, doctor or paramedic. To be in one room, watching the miracle of childbirth before you eyes; to soak up the feelings of joy, hope, relief of new made mums and dads, and just as quickly you find yourself in another room. Watching as an old man or even a little boy battling out his final moments of life, struggling to come to terms with the fact that their story ends just like that. To look into the eyes of sons and daughters, parents and children to see wells of grief, sorrow, denial and unbearable pain over their loss. “How do you do it?” I ask my student nurse girlfriend. “How do you see these things each and every day and not be affected by it?”

She just tells me “To carry out my duties, I have to steel myself and not be overcome by the emotions at the moment. I do feel sad for these people, we have to accept that we have done all we can for them, and there is nothing more we can do. Death is a part of life and it is inevitable. But just as sure as someone will die in the hospital, there will also be a new infant born into this world; and that is a reason to rejoice.”

I think I still have a long way to go before I come to terms with the inevitability of death. I think everyone shares the same line of thoughts. “I don’t want to die.” “I’m scared of dying.” “I don’t want to leave the people I love.” “Why must we die?” I ask myself. Then I remember he what she said to me and I tell myself “Because without death, there can be no life.”

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 12:43 pm Comments: 0