Hospital visit

An elderly lady walked alone by herself down the long, lonely corridor. Yet with her softy trembling voice, the vacant hospital corridor, at least momentarily, did feel so lonely after all...

She slowly limped on her cane, yet instead of lamenting her condition,  her voice filled the air with song and joy. Her beautiful voice, moving, heart melting, praised the lord, praised life... We should all praise life, praise the health we have and take for granted.

I walked with the patient I was accompanying today toward the taxi in silence. The hour long ordeal and the effects of the local sedation was a lot to bear. All I could do was be next to her, give her an arm to hold onto in case she gets too dizzy or faints as we slowly walked to her home in silence. Her eyes were still moist from tearing, for the procedure was extremely uncomfortable, unbearable.

Imagine sliding a long, thin tube down your nostril and into the air ways and pockets of your lungs. Imagine having liquids inserted into your lungs as the doctor conducts biopsies of "suspect" tissue. Imagine the gagging sensations, the numbness in your nasal area, and having a hard time swallowing even your own saliva because of the great deal of discomfort... Imagine it happening to you.

She entered her small one bedroom apartment, and sat down on a sofa. The place was cluttered, and on the sofa were all sorts of blankets and pillows. A fragrant scent hung in the air, the smell of an elderly lady. There were pictures of her two sons and their respective families, but they have long since moved away, leaving her behind. Even the husband abruptly left her, over ten years ago, due to illness. There were pictures of her in an impressive and colourful dress, with her face elaborately painted and made up. The lady explained she explained she took part in many Chinese opera singing competitions, and on one side of the living room were the award banners that proved her successes. She said she lived alone, and when she is ill there is really no one to take care of her, as her family are all on the West Coast.

While we sat and she talked a bit about her family and her life, she held onto the piece of gauze around her mouth which  the technician had given her  just before we left the hospital. She was small, and thin, and a few years younger than my mum. Occasionally she'd cough and was unable to speak more than a few words. I noticed the gauze was moist and stained with blood.  Normal, the doctor explained, for they had to slice bits of the lung for samples. If she starts coughing blood, then she must rush to the emergency room immediately. And I told her if she needs any help at all, she can call me.

Softly, she asked me to sit, for she had something to tell me. The lady got out her purse and started getting out folded bills. "I can't take this," I said outright, "I'm doing this as a volunteer..." For free, not expecting anything in return, only wanting to give something for so much society, and this world at large, has already given me. But the lady would not stop shovelling the money into my hands. She explained how it was agreed that the community centre I volunteer at takes $5 whereas the volunteer translator gets $15. It's an incentive system they came up with to get more people to volunteer, which I personally find bizarre, because it's not exactly volunteering at all. But on top of that, she wanted to give me another $20 as a "reward". I was stunned, but she said she felt really grateful for all I've done for her...

She said not to argue with her, as her throat was aching and she was in great discomfort. So I didn't. I took the fifteen dollars, and placed it in my wallet. I smiled at her, but my mind was wondering which charity I could donate the money to. The twenty dollars I also took, not wanting her to strain herself too much from trying to do more persuading. I took the bill in one hand and with the other put it on the arm of the chair I sat on. She thanked me again and again and again.

I didn't wish to offend her, so a few hours later I called her to ask how she was feeling. I was relieved when she said she ate some congee and was resting. I told her about the money. She saw, she said, and protested, but I joked that if she insisted giving me money, I won't accompany her to the hospital anymore. She laughed, and again repeated how grateful she felt for all I've done.

What did I do really? A few hours of my life to help an elderly lady go get checked up... A few words and sentences translated so she knows exactly what is happening and what she needs to do while the doctor conducts the bronchoscopy... Told her not to worry to much, not to think too much, and reassure her that the procedure will soon be over... It's not much, it's what any fellow human being should do for any other human being in need, even if the other person is a complete stranger.

She was tired and physically drained from the entire ordeal. I sat on the side on a little stool as the doctor pushed the bronchoscope deeper and deeper into her lungs. Now and then, the doctor would give instructions, like to breathe harder, to breathe through the mouth, and I would proceed to translate so the lady could understand. She lay there for at least half an hour or so, writhing uncomfortably, breathing laboriously. It took a while before the sedation came into effect, for the nurse (clumsily?) poked her arm many times before a suitable vein could be found to administer the anaesthetic. This caused the lady much pain and cringed expressions on her face. I  could only try to calm her from time to time by saying that the procedure will be over soon, and gently pat her on the leg. In her eyes were tears, from fear perhaps, from the discomfort definitely.

Once finished, the doctor took off his gloves and scribbled something on sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. They encountered some anomalies, he said, and further testing and biopsies are required to confirm what he suspects may be malignant.

I think the lady suspected it already, she expressed to me her fears the first time we spoke on the phone to make an appointment. A follow up appointment was scheduled for the next week, when more conclusive results will be available. She asked if I could accompany her, but I could not, for I would be abroad. And perhaps it is best that I am not there...