1.19.07 LEAVING MS. SADNESS
Okay! Before you tilt your head, roll your eyes, shift your weight to one leg, put your hands on your waist, and give me that “Bad girl, Kate! Bad Girl!” look, you have to admit you understand my astonishment at a question like this. Plus, I was merely taking the piss. No harm intended.
To my surprise, she answered with all seriousness, “Okay. You had your initial surgery because of a cancerous tumor found in your right ovary. The doctor suggested subsequent chemo therapy….”
“I was just kidding.” I interrupted her. “I know why I’m here.”
She stared at me in such a way that I felt the need to brace myself for a blow on the side of my head with the clipboard in her hand. Instead, she said without moving a muscle on her face, “Please tell me why. “
Okay, now I feel bad. “I’m here for my third chemo treatment,” I said it like a kid in kindergarten reciting a poem. “and someone is about to pick me up for an X-Ray and EKG.”
She wasn’t impressed, “Are you aware of the side effects?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Please sign here.” She pushed the form in front of my face.
“What is this?” I’ve never seen this in my last 4 visits to the hospital.
“It’s a form indicating that we have explained to the patients what they are in the hospital for.”
This time, I stared at her. She finally caved and said, “I KNOW (it’s hard to believe)! But you’d be surprised how many patients really have no clue.”
Wow!
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Just when I was obsessing over the possibility of anyone not knowing what they’re in the hospital for, a volunteer came to pick me up. A woman in the blue surgical scrubs was behind him. She had the saddest look on her face. She looked exhausted and frightened. I smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.
We went down to the EKG room but it wasn’t open yet. While waiting, the woman’s weak voice floated by my ears, “Are you having surgery today too?” I turned toward her, directly into a mist of sadness. “No. I’ve had my surgery already. What are you having done today?” She stared at me with immense emptiness. Her mouth moved, “They found some cysts in my uterus.” Ah! Good! Only cysts. “So they’re giving you a hysterectomy today?” “What?” “I mean, are they taking everything out today?” She smiled weakly, “Yes!” “So they’ll probably use endoscope.” There was that emptiness. “They poke three small holes in your tummy.” Nope! Nothing was registering. “Anyway, you’ll be fine.” I concluded.
“Is that what you had?” She wanted to know.
“No. I had an abdominal surgery.”
“Oh! And did you know that was what they’d do before the surgery?”
“Yeah, I did.” Doh! I said it in an “Of course!” kind of tone.
“And how did you know?” I had this feeling that she knew the answer but she decided to ask anyway.
“I asked my doctor.”
She turned away, but soon turned back with a flash of light across her face, “What’s wrong with you now?” She seemed eager.
“I’m in for my third chemo treatment.” Déjà vu.
Sadness sank into her dark eyes. “Why do you have to do chemo after the surgery?”
(Oh, no! You’ve scared her, Kate.) “They found a tumor in my ovary.” (Shut up now.) The pathology test found it to be cancerous (Shut your mouth, Kate! Right now!), so my doctor recommended a round of chemo therapy (You idiot, Kate! She didn’t need to be scared before her surgery).
The EKG technician called her name. She jumped and replied, “HERE!”
I feel horrible!
But she needs to know.
Not from you, Kate.
You heard her. She didn’t and isn’t going to ask her doctor.
You remember how scared and uncertain you were before the surgery.
I do, but I also asked my doctor as many questions as I could think of at the time.
So she didn’t. That still doesn’t justify opening your big mouth and freaking her out.
She asked about my surgery in the first place.
All I'm saying is that she doesn't deserve to be freaked out on the day of her surgery.
On the way back to our rooms, I started chatting with the volunteer as a way to talk to her. You know, about how each individual case is different, mine was not only a cyst, and blah blah blah. Though she didn’t look my way the whole time, I knew she was listening.
We came back to Ward 55. Dr Liu (my doctor) merged, “Where’s your boyfriend?” He looked sleepy…. Oh! Friday. Surgery day. “He’s back home visiting.” He opened his eyes more and said sleepily, “See? I told you you can do it on your own. You’re a big girl.” Sigh~ doctor, doctor! What we’re capable of doing is very different from what we’d rather do. “Are you alright? Chemo starts this afternoon?” he said softly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” Dr. Liu turned into the nurses’ station. “You’ll be fine” was the last thing he said before we parted.
“How did you know your doctor?” Oh! Ms. Sadness. You’re still here. What was your question again? How did I know my doctor?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand your question.” I was trying to be polite.
“You were talking like friends.” The mist of sadness approached, which made me want to run away from her this instant.
“Oh~” I tried to be funny, “It’s because I’ve been in and out of the hospital so many times. Ha!” She didn’t laugh. “So,” she continued. “My doctor’s name is Chen Chih-Hua. That wasn’t him, was it?!” You’ve got to be kidding me, right? Lady! How could you not know whose hands are going to be opening you up on the day of the surgery?
“Hsing-Hua! Where have you been? Come on! I gotta take your temperature and blood pressure.” Nurse Crackyvoice was yelling at me from my room.
“Cut her some slack,” the cleaning lady came in front of me. “She’s here for her third chemo treatment. She knows how things work here.” She turned toward me, “Three more times and you graduate from Ward 55. Hang in there!!” She rubbed my arm as she said it. It felt warm.
A weak voice drifted by, “Everyone knows you here.” My patience had officially run out at this point. I turned toward my room, “I’m coming now. It wasn’t my fault, you know?! They came to get me to go downstairs…….”, leaving Ms. Sadness behind.
Very familiar with the twins...my own, of course.
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