as a medical officer
It was one of those moments when I felt blessed to be able to witness a rare miracle in life. I had a choice to initially go for another teaching session but I opted to stay because casualty looked busy.
Then she came for a runny nose. She survived her neonatal period. It was an interesting life encounter. And to see her mother being this unwavering pillar of strength kept me in awe. I hope this little ‘Harle Quin’ would get to live a long life. Amin.
There was time for a story in between patients. A man brought his 7 year old daughter for treatment in Casualty. It was quite obvious that this child was not his biological offspring. But they shared the same speaking language. I did not probe much – the conversation just flowed from him.
Perhaps he needed to just talk about his daughter. His hopes, his reasonable fear. That this temporary daughter will leave him one day. His dedication and undivided love. It was a session to just let his guard down and share his feelings. I think he felt good and reassured after that. That he is doing a wonderful job.
He may not be a muslim but I pray that Allah will help him and protect him and his family. And that this father will be granted the best of health so he could be there for this child. Always.
I was late to leave for home that day. My patient collapsed in the early hours of the morning. Usually I’d try to tie up loose ends by 7AM and clear as many trivial green cases before the next shift comes in – just so they’d start fresh and less stressful. The cases will never stop coming in. It’s a fact we’ve gotten used to because people fall sick the whole time. So I thought it’ll be a normal routine. Alas, Allah has better plans.
The patient was a ‘regular customer’ to our centre. We could almost memorize his medical history. He was one of those patients we fear the Grim Reaper would visit when he steps onto hospital grounds. Indeed – the patient briefly walked towards the light during resuscitation.
His airway was difficult to manipulate and intubate. I had to escort him to the tertiary centre with a laryngeal mask airway. It was already past my hours of working but seeing the cases already piling up and the ward rounds my colleagues has to do – I decided to hop on the ambulance. They need all the help they can get. Plus, Mr Husband is around this weekend – I texted him saying that I’m still at work and that I’ll be late. Just so he won’t be worried. Driving 45 mins back home post call was never a good idea – but a job is a job.
We arrived at the tertiary centre uneventfully. Allah was kind to give me the learning opportunity to witness how a glidescope was used. My extra hours of working was not in vain. It was beneficial. Alhamdulilah.
On the way back to the hospital, I had a quick nap in the ambulance. Afterwards, I grabbed a coffee from the vending machine before I started my commute back home. My son was already beaming with joy as my car parked into the driveway. It was already near lunchtime. Mr Husband was doing his work on his laptop as I narrated the events that happened early morning. I took a long hot shower and suddenly The Important Knock came to the door,
“Cepat mandi Mummy, makanan dah siap”
(hurry up mummy, food is ready)
Mr Husband was already preparing steamboat for our early lunch. Air tangan suami – obviously nyaman. I then took my postcall nap as I couldn’t talk and think straight anymore.
Thank you for everything Allah – for reviving my patient, for giving me this wonderful family.
The dreaded last call of the month is over and I couldn’t be happier although the cycle will probably start again in 1 week time. Recently there have been proposals to add on another form of oncall on the roster. Initially I was one of those who strongly agreed to it but now have changed my mind. Because that would mean another extra 4 – 5 calls.
Which translates into my son whining of how his mom comes back home late at night or the next day as opposed to his aunt who is home at night everyday. Which also means solo drive to work in mid morning upon being summoned to come to work. Only to of course continue the normal work shift the next day. While Mr Husband could still cope with his studies and my reckless inevitable routine – I feel bad because I’m supposed to be that stability, that fixed variable in his life so he would not have to worry about minding Ee nor of this wife commuting 27km to and fro to work everyday.
In response to the said proposal, a poll was created. The results came out as a tie. Which was not helpful. The demand of the service however is not something one could easily sweep under the rug. Because in the end the ones who benefit are ourselves and of course, the patients. Either way I have to be prepared to make unpopular decisions. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do.. but coming from a workaholic who has to consciously make an effort to make my family my first priority – any decision is a huge step to making them matter. And a sacrifice on my part.
You are not a tree, MOVE!
Minci Moss 