Last year,
I remember writing and sharing a special blog post marking ten years since I’d
been released from the insane asylum (more commonly known to everyone else as
the Brain Injuries Rehab Unit of the Princess Alexandra Hospital.) XD However, I actually had two
more short stays at the Mater Private Hospital in late December 2008 and
January 2009, when my idiot brain (or rather, what’s left up there; I’ve had
brain surgery like nine times since the cruel and unfaithful God so wantonly smote
me down and destroyed my entire life with the disabling brain tumor and
sometimes I think it’s an empty head sitting on my neck! >< XD) decided
to play up and plague me with low-grade but terribly persistent headaches.
Like, I’d get a headache, mother would pop me two Panadol but like six hours
later, I’d be like, “Mum, head hurts.”
In 2008, I
was actually hospitalised slightly before Christmas; when the neurosurgeon
(named Dr. Sarah Olson) did her daily rounds, I’d BEGGED her, “Doc, PLEASE
lemme out before Christmas; being stuck in hospital at anytime is the pits, but
being stuck hospitalised over Christmas would be DREADFUL!” She’d laughed and
promised, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try my best.” From memory, I’d been
released 22nd/23rd December; I still remember that very
night, the parents and I all went to see the Christmas lights from the 4KQ
Christmas lights competition before they all got switched off!! The most
important thing was that I wasn’t in hospital on Christmas Day~
Early in
2009, cousin Teresa, Uncle Dickdick and Franco all come visiting from Hong Kong! Alas, trust my stupid brain to
play up again; those low-grade but pesky persistent headaches. Headache,
Panadol; six hours later, “Mum, my head hurts …” Somehow, mother contacts the
neurosurgeon and I’m readmitted back into the Mater Private.
It’s a
longer stay this time, because I go under the knife twice. First, the
neurosurgeon removes the previous shunt from my otherwise-empty skull then
second, she inserts a new one, some programmable electronic one. Which leads me
to cheekily remark to everyone, “I’m a cyborg now. Planning to implement my
world domination plan very soon, so if you don’t want me to pick your suburb as
the one to destroy first, you’d better tell me where you live.” XD
Cousin
Teresa, Uncle Dick and Franco all come visiting before they fly back to Hong
Kong; I remember apologising to them and saying sorry that I hadn’t been able
to go out with them coz I was stupid enough to land myself in hospital!
><
I was
released mid-late January; neither mother nor I, nor even cousin Teresa,
remembers the date. XD
This year
marks one whole DECADE since I was released from the Mater Private. Luckily, my
otherwise empty skull has more-or-less behaved itself and I haven’t had any
need to stay hospitalized again. Actually, I’ve only had to visit the hospital
for my yearly MRIs, to make sure that the idiot tumor residing inside my
otherwise empty skull (and thus taking up precious brain space >< XD)
hasn’t done anything stupid like hit a growth spurt.
Thankfully,
the two short stints in the Mater Private were much less traumatic for me than
my yearlong stint in the insane asylum, probably because mother was allowed to
stay with me! Unlike the insane asylum, where guests were kicked out at 8pm sharp, when I was first admitted
into the Mater Private, mother was asked did she want to stay overnight too and
keep me company? Of course she did! Poor mother was actually distraught with
herself that she hadn’t realised she could’ve stayed with me had I been
hospitalised at the Mater Private and could have prevented me from suffering
the hellish trauma of the nights, weeks and months I’d endured all alone in the
insane asylum; she actually teared up and begged my forgiveness! Me, I was
like, “What’s there that needs forgiving? We simply didn’t know. Anyhow, you’re
here now; I’m sure I’ll be fine.” (Well, as fine as a disabled bum could be
fine. ><)
Things
worth mentioning about my two short stints at the Mater Private:
(1)
Every morning, TO YOUR BEDSIDE, was delivered a copy of the Courier
Mail! I was super-impressed, because back in the insane asylum, there was only
ONE paper for the ENTIRE WARD! I still remember that single paper was shared
daily by Habib and I. Habib was the lovely Algerian man who fed us breakfast,
morning tea and lunch. For some reason, when I first entered the insane asylum,
I thought his name was Abu! Every morning, when he placed my bowl of Cornflakes
in front of me, I’d go, “Thank-you, Abu!” until one day, he stopped, and in his
gruff voice, corrected me. “Habib!” XD If I had therapies scheduled earlier in
the morning, I’d find him sitting in the dining area once he’d finished serving
morning tea and he’d wordlessly pass me two pages of the paper. Or, if I didn’t
have any therapies scheduled until the afternoon, once breakfast was over I’d
start reading the paper; after Habib had finished clearing up after breakfast
he’d approach the table where I’d have spread the paper out; I’d wordlessly
pass him pages of the paper I’d already read and then we’d both sit and read in
companionable silence until he had to get up and start preparing to serve
lunch, which was served at midday. Even better, on the weekend at the Mater
Private, you received a thick copy of the Sunday Mail! Believe me, I was
super-impressed. XD
(2)
I’ve been released from the insane asylum for just over 10.5 years now,
but I think forever imprinted on my mind will be the fortnightly lunch menu.
Monday lunch, chicken salad and chilli con carne (is the ‘e’ silent?) Tuesday
lunch, pork salad and sweet and sour chicken with rice. (N.B. The rice was
feral: CRUNCHY >< XD) Wednesday lunch: egg and cheese salad. Dinner was
meat pies. Thursday’s menu I disliked the most: beef salad for lunch and
lasagna for dinner. Sometimes when I really didn’t feel like it, I’d ask the
serving lady for the sandwiches. Each day’s meal came with sandwiches;
Thursday’s were chicken sandwiches, yum! Thursday’s dinner was Hokkien noodles
with chicken, only I called them fake because proper Hokkien noodles are meant
to be thick and chewy; the Hokkien noodles served in the insane asylum were
thin and limp! XD
Thankfully, I’ve finally forgotten Friday’s menu and the food served
during the weekend, though I vaguely remember that for one day, you were served
fish and chips?
The really cool thing about the Mater Private was that instead of being
served a rotational menu, the day/night before, you were given a menu list of
the food served tomorrow and you just ticked the items you wanted. I remember
asking mother, “Hey, if I ticked every single item on the menu for the
meals tomorrow, would they really deliver me EVERYTHING? Coz that way, dad
doesn’t haveta bring you extra food when he comes; you can just share mine!”
Pity mother rubbished that idea immediately. XD I still remember one item of
that creative menu: UPSIDEDOWN pineapple cake! I’ve zero idea when during the
cooking process was the pineapple inverted, but hey. XD
(3) I
actually went under the knife twice during the January stay: first to remove
the existing shunt that drained all the excess brain fluids (don’t ask me why I
had excess brain fluids; I didn’t even know the brain had fluids! XD) and then
the second operation to insert the new VP shunt. VP stands forventriculoperitoneal (VP) shunt; BTW, don’t ask me how
it’s pronounced although I reckon I could make a pretty good attempt. XD
After the first
shunt was removed, the excess brain fluids were drawn out to some … bag hooked
onto some pole? Yes, obviously I have zero medical knowledge whatsoever and
don’t know any medical terms. XD That made going for showers rather awkward;
aside from mother there was also another nurse who pushed that pole containing
the bag with my excess brain fluids along for my shower. Obviously during that
time the physio didn’t come drag me for a walk around the ward/level I was on
(from memory, the 9th floor?); can you imagine how inconvenient it
would have been for me to walk, the physio to walk behind me then the nurse to walk behind the physio and
drag the pole? XD
Can’t
remember how long the wait was before the neurosurgeon put me under again and
installed a new shunt into my brain; what I do remember was that I was nil by
mouth after dinner the night before. Apparently, Christians aren’t meant to
believe in luck? In that case, I only have the cruel and unfaithful God to
blame that He stacked emergency after emergency after emergency at the hospital
the next day, meaning I didn’t get my turn for surgery until well after sunset!
My poor tummy was most displeased with me; think too of poor mother, who kept
me company that long day and night, meaning she didn’t get any food either. Awesome
Aunty A dropped by after work to visit me; I asked her, “Aunty A, could you
please do me a huge favor?” When she cocked an eyebrow at me, signaling, “Go
on,” I asked her, “Once I’m under general anaesthesia and gone for the
operation, could you please take my mum out for dinner? See, I’ve been nil by
mouth since dinner the night before; since she’s been keeping me company all
day, I presume that means she’s had nothing to eat either. Right now I’m
starving so I’m guessing she is too, so once I’m out could you please take
mother out and have dinner with her? Aunty A simply nods, to which I show my
profound gratitude.
It’s like 9pm by the time I finally go under the
knife! Remembering that I’ve been nil by mouth since dinner the night before,
once I’m awake, I’m STARVING. Since I’ve only just regained consciousness, some
nurse comes and does obs on me like every five/ten/fifteen minutes. Just the
usual questions, like, what’s your name, your date of birth, the current PM,
etc. Turns out the nurse doing the graveyard shift that night was a male one,
although I’ve obviously forgotten who he is, considering this all happened
about one DECADE ago and I only saw him for one night! What I do remember: when
he comes and asks his questions, when he finishes, I’m like “Mate: hungry,
hungry, hungry, hungry!” After that’s happened two/three times, the nurse was
like, “Right. I’m banning that word. Don’t wanna hear you say it again.”
The next
time he comes along for obs, I smirk at him, “Mate: starving, starving,
starving, starving, starving!”
He smirks
right what. “Guess what? That word’s now banned, too.”
I only have
one more trick up my sleeve. After the next round of obs: “Mate: famished,
famished, famished, famished, famished!” When he laughingly bans that word too,
I whine, “But that’s all the synonyms I know for the word ‘hungry’! If you ban
them all, how are you gonna understand that I NEED FOOD??!!” The nurse laughs.
“Don’t worry. After next time, I promise I’ll feed you half a sandwich.” And
lemme tell you, that was the stinking best half an egg and mayo sandwich I’ve
ever had!! XD
(4) Daddy
Bear: while I was hospitalised, mother kept me company but dearest dad still
had to work. He’d pop in after he’d finished for the day, bringing some extra
food in for mother, because usually she just snapped away at least half of
whatever I was served. One day, he brought me a present: a medium-sized,
bronze-coloured teddy bear! Being in the habit of naming teddies after the
people who give them to me, I asked mother, “Should I call him Michael (his
English name) Bear, Kwok Wah (his Chinese name) Bear or Daddy Bear? She decided
the third option sounded the best, so Daddy Bear he became!
Shortly
after receiving him, I was wheeled into the operating theatre for surgery.
Daddy Bear was keeping me company. One of the nurses who was prepping me for
surgery asked, “Would you like me to look after the teddy for you?” I handed
him (not sure why most of my teddies are male?) reluctantly over to her,
saying, “Make sure you give him back to me when I come outta the operating
theatre!” She reassures me he’ll be in her safe hands and will be waiting for
me once I come out.
Hours later
after the operation, when I come to, I vaguely remember the nurse that had
whisked my teddy away, and fretfully ask her, “Nurse, where’s Daddy Bear! You
said he’d be waiting for me after I got out!” The nurse laughs. “Don’t worry; I
told you I’d look after him for you, right? Here he is!” And when she reaches
over, picks up Daddy Bear from wherever he was seated and hands him back to me,
I can see he’s wearing a surgical cap! “That’s so cool, nurse!” I giggle. “How
come you gave him a surgical cap?” The nurse joins in with my laughter. “Why,
don’t you know? When we got YOU ready for surgery, we had to get HIM ready for
surgery too!”
When the
parents are allowed back in to see me, I excitedly tell this story to mother,
who laughs. “No, I know the truth.” She asserts. “I bet what really happened
was that after your operation, the nurses were cleaning up the theatre. One of
them spots a spare surgical cap, goes ‘oh what can I do with this spare
surgical cap?’ then sees Daddy Bear and decides to let him wear it.”
“But the
nurse told me it was because she had to get Daddy Bear prepped for surgery
too!” I protest, to which mother laughs, “She’s just humouring you.”XD
Thankfully,
I’ve not needed hospitalisation ever since. It’s been ten years since I had
that shunt installed into my head, and so far, I’ve exercised admirable
restraint and not started on my world domination plan yet. XD Nah, relax,
everyone’s safe; I’ve zero plans for that at all. XD But don’t piss me off,
else I suddenly might! XD Actually, I’ve just asked Mr. Google (who knows
EVERYTHING, apparently XD) how long do VP shunts last and learnt from him that
they typically last 2 years
for infants and 8 years or longer for adults and children older than 2
years, after which they require replacing. Well, I guess I fall into
the ‘or longer’ category, because it’s been longer than ten years for me! Great,
next time I get a headache I’ll start getting freaked out that the more than
ten years old shunt has finally karked it and I’ll haveta be readmitted into
hospital for several days until some neurosurgeon can put a new one into my
head … >< *sigh*
Next post here … should be a movie review! Only recently did I see Mary, Queen Of Scots and 'twas a great movie; I’d better get started on that!! Righteo, until then~
Cheers,
Em. ^^
