No System, No Hope
The StoryI finally went to see the doctor about the lump in my armpit today. Actually my mother insisted.
It had suddenly grown bigger on Monday evening, again, discovered while I was in the shower. Talk about history repeating itself. Sheesh. Anyway, the newest thing was, it hurt. At the slightest touch, at the slightest brush of the shirt sleeve.
Truth be told, I was afraid. Very afraid. But again, I left it alone, hoping it would subside and go away.
On Wednesday, it was still there. And it still hurt. So my mom insisted I went to the doc the next day and she even took emergency leave at work.
Went to the government hospital – Universiti Hospital, or UH, as we all call it. which brought back ALL the reasons why I WANT TO GET THE HELL OUT OF MALAYSIA!!!
The Reason Why I Am Getting Out of Malaysia
Everyone knows that when you go to UH, you have to go early. As in be there by 7. A. M.
Silly me woke up late cos I couldn’t sleep well last night and so wasn’t inclined to wake up early. So by the time I dropped my brother off to work and had breakfast and drove to UH, it was about 8.20.
By the time we found parking and walked to the registry it was 8.30.
We had to press one of those electronic boxes that spat out numbers for the queue.
My number: 0080.
The current number: 0047.
Okay… We had to play the waiting game.
There were only 3 counters opened. Okay.
And so we sat there waiting. Mom decided to call into the office to check on some things.
And along came a little brown mouse from under my chair, whose body was about 4 inches, with a tail about the same length. It scuttled up to the slippered feet belonging to the person seated in front of me and nuzzled the slippers. Blissfully unaware, the person merely shook her feet, and when the little mouse gave a much harder push, the person looked down with alarm and gave a start, which frightened the little brown thing and it ran past my feet, towards the back of the room quickly. By this time, some people had already noticed the mouse and were talking. As the mouse disappeared some men behind me laughed.
I’m thinking in my mind, what is there to laugh? There is a mouse, or rather, a rat, in a bloody hospital. Talk about sanitation.
But it really was a cute little thing. I only managed to catch a flash of black beady eyes on a furry little body with a handsome tail.
Can’t help loving all sorts of animals. Even rodents.
After my mom hung up, I told her about the little mouse and she was quite ready to jump onto her seat, just before I told her that it was gone.
"Goodness, gracious me," she said. "A rat in a hospital. Only in Malaysia."
So true.
My number was finally called. Granted the woman was friendly. After asking me why I was there, she said she would direct me to the Surgery Clinic.
Erm… Surgery Clinic? Shit. And then she gave me another number and told me to wait at the side, where another counter would call my number.
So I waited. With the word ‘Surgery’ playing over and over again in my head like a broken record. I kept looking around at the people, the clothes, the building, just to not think of the word ‘Surgery’.
Words are very, VERY powerful.
Finally my second number was called. And the lady asked me more questions of my details; age, name, occupation, etc. Then she told me to wait again, for someone to take me to the Surgery Clinic.
And again, the waiting game. With the word ‘Surgery’ playing on and on in my head.
Finally I heard my name called, and another woman was there, beckoning me. I jumped up and pulled my mom. We went to another section of the building. Went into the lift, came out and followed the woman a series of rather winding and complicated corridors, before she stopped at one busy station, passed my folder to me, and gave me a number, and told me to sit down and wait for it to be called.
My number: 0030.
The current number: 0008.
Okay. So we sat down. And waited again. It was about 9.10.
At 9.30, we were still waiting.
At 10, we were still waiting.
At 10.30, we were STILL waiting.
At 10.45, my mom was getting worried.
A man had asked to borrow our newspaper earlier. Mom decided to chummy with him and find out what was the usual procedure. He saw me clutching my folder.
"Is that your folder?"
"Yes."
"You shouldn’t be holding it. otherwise how do they know you are here and call your number?"
"But a woman told me to hold it and sit down and wait."
"Something’s wrong." He took my folder and went to the station with my mom. There was a nurse/administrator there, and when she heard what the man and my mom had to say, she had this resigned look on her face. She started to speak, in Malay, about how I was supposed to PAY first, then GET ANOTHER NUMBER, to be CALLED into the doctor’s clinic.
Naturally we complained. It was one of THEM who told us to SIT and WAIT. Noone, NOONE told us that we had to PAY first, before GETTING to see the doctor.
She didn’t even apologised, just asked us again, "She didn’t tell you to pay first?" She only gestured us to the cashier, where we got yet another number, and was directed to the section where the doctor’s clinic was, and told us that this was the doctor’s room, sit and wait.
And so we sat down again. And waited. My mom and I didn’t really have much to say. What to say? We knew the system here was like this. But like everyone else, we went there because it was cheaper than the private clinics. She only said one thing as we waited again.
"Get out of here, as soon as you can." I could only nod fervently.
Luckily we didn’t wait long this time. Went in and explained to the doc why I was there. He examined me and then explained to me what I had.
Sebaceous Cyst.
What I had was a sebaceous cyst that got infected somehow and reacted by swelling and so the only option I had was to operate it, get rid of it.
"It’s not cancerous?"
"No. Don’t worry. This is fairly normal. And it’s a quick operation. 15 minutes only."
Thank God, I thought.
There and then, we made an appointment for the surgery. 29th November. A Monday. I wanted to do it on Friday, then I would get to rest over the weekend. But then my mom said better not.
See. Friday’s the day all the Muslims go for prayers. Things don’t get done efficiently on Fridays. Everyone knows that. So I changed it to a Monday.
The nurse inside assisting the doc took me out to the appointment counter. She said I had to let the person key in my surgery date. She left. I stood there and passed the document the doc had given me for the person to key in the date. This guy slouching at the desk took my document indifferently, shook the mouse lazily, and stared at the screen. I waited.
Suddenly he says, "So, you come in 2 weeks after 29th."
"Oh. Alright… Why?"
"To see doctor lah."
"Ok… Why? My surgery is on the 29th. But why do I need to come in 2 weeks later?"
"To see the doctor lah. Cos your surgery is 29th, so you come in 2 weeks later."
God… he still didn’t answer the crucial ‘Why’.
"Is that a follow-up?"
"What?"
"Follow-up. Is that a follow-up after my surgery?"
"Er.. yeah, yeah. 2 weeks."
"What is wrong?" The assisting nurse came to the counter with a frown.
"Do I need to come in 2 weeks later?"
"You’ll find out later after the surgery."
"Then why must I make an appointment for this 2 weeks later."
"No, you don’t need to."
"But this guy is telling me to do it!"
"Huh?" she looked at the guy, who looked at her blankly. "You only key in the surgery date. Have you done that already?"
Without waiting for his reply, she turned to me. "The doctor will decide whether or not you need to follow up. So you just come on the 29th."
"So I don’t need to make any appointment for 2 weeks later, right?"
"That’s right. So you just come on 29th. Ok. That’s all." And she looks at me, expectantly, as if telling me to toddle off now.
My mom and I could only look at each other and walk off. We still had to go to the pharmacy to get my antibiotics for the infection. Another wait.
By the time everything was done, clinic, appointment, medicine and all, it was past 12 noon. As I drove out of the parking, I could only remember what I learnt about the Malaysian system, which was when I was quite young.
Abbreviations could be very tricky and ironically true. The Malaysian Airlines System is known as MAS.
It also means MANA ADA SYSTEM. "Where Got System?"
Truly, there isn't really a very logical and effective system for many government and official offices here in Malaysia.
It was only after I had driven off the hospital grounds and well on the way that I wondered, if that stupid guy had keyed in the SURGERY date, and NOT the 2-weeks-after date…
I can only hope…
As I’m typing this, I am also wondering, if the infamous Canadian Health System should take a back seat. It is my belief that nothing compares to our system here. Cos there is none.
posted by Jennirhiow @ 12:04 am
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