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| Fiona Stanley Hospital |
I could still remember when I had my surgery at Royal Perth Hospital, Grace came over to take a look at me after work when I was half awake. A year or two later, she requested for a transfer to the newly opened Fiona Stanley Hospital to shorten her travel to work. Coincidentally, I was transferred to this hospital today for my cystoscopy. The hospital was brand new and the build finishes reminded me of the architecture of Singapore buildings these days. The only difference was the use of space.
Large foyer. Large aisles. Large lobbies. Large wards. You get the idea.
It was quite a busy afternoon for the hospital when I walked in. Everyone seemed to know where they were going except me. I stood there with that feeling of "This could be heaven or this could be hell." Then a lady interrupted my thoughts and asked me what help I needed.
First surprise
The lady in bluish greenish attire (centre of pic at far end) was the one who offered assistance. I was surprised. Why wouldn't you be, if you were a Singaporean who never experience such a thing in his world class hospitals back in Singapore? For a shy guy who'll turn help only at his last resort, someone who offering help without me was great. She was armed with a small note but effective enough to tell anyone where to go if they were able to tell her accurately.
"Walk straight, skip the blue lifts, next up will be the orange lifts where you need to use to go to L1," she said.
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| reception |
Three questions
I found the clinic I needed. The receptionist asked me three questions. 1) My name 2) My NOK's name and contact 3) My address. That was all. I held my Medicare card in my hands but I wasn't ask to present it. There was no need to show my ID or Medicare card. All were electronically arranged. In less than a minute, I was asked to take a seat.
Tucky told me these via whatsapp, "Nobody abuse the system thats y they bochap."
"I think angmoh society and asian v diff."
"Angmoh trust everyone until they get screw. Whereas asian screw others first to prevent getting screw."
I knew what he meant but I didn't agree with the last sentence. Singapore may be an Asian country but not all Asian countries works like Singapore, at least in terms of providing healthcare to the people. Singapore's healthcare is too world class for my liking. I'm contented with some 3rd world healthcare here.
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| waiting area |
Not a digit
This was where it needed a bit getting used to. Back in Singapore I was merely NRICxxxxxxxx to service providers. In this hospital, I was addressed by my name at every juncture by any staff who served me after referring to my data only once.
Ushered
I was ushered by a staff wherever I go. It seemed like I was on a North Korean tour whereby staff were worried I wondered into out of bounds regions or something. Not that I minded it, in all honesty. In fact, it felt really good someone understands that some patients can really wonder where to go or what to do next. There were clear instructions, including where to change (even ushered into the room), what to do and what was going to happen next.
Do you need a blanket?
The most interesting thing was I was being asked whether I needed a blanket by different staff easily more than 10 times. Some staff asked a few times during my (long) wait. Otherwise, random staff would be asking me if I was "alright" whenever they walked past and spotted me sitting there alone. When I was asked to move to the next spot, nurses would joke with me about getting "one step closer." For the first time in a hospital, I felt like a human and not a piece of meat.
Three hours
I waited three hours before I got wheeled in to the surgical threatre. It would be easier if I was allowed to have my mobile phone with me. However it was left in the blue bag with all my belongings and clothes. So I sat there in my hospital gown dozing off. Occasionally when I woke, someone would be asking me if I needed a blanket. Hmm, I've gotta try their blankets the next time. There must be something about it. When I wasn't asleep I would be observing nurses, doctors and assistants. It was a multi-cultural environment and there was a vibrant vibe around the whole place. I felt it the moment I stepped into that clinic. Everyone was always cheery, smiling and laughing. Even patients joked with medical staff. One old guy walked in and saw another old chap sitting down there waiting and greeted, "How n' going, mate? What are you doing with that (walking) stick, beat up the doc?" It seemed that I was the only solemn guy around.
I was apologised to a few times by staff at different stages. The message I got was that it was usually not that long. I also overheard someone asking if being a private patient makes a difference. The answer was, 'No.' The only difference being a private patient was the privilege of choosing a consultant. It wouldn't help in reducing waiting time. If I remember correctly, I only waited one hour at the previous hospital. I was fine. At least i didn't need to lie in a bed in a makeshift tentage.
Wheelchaired
A pretty Asian nurse turned up and made me sit on a wheelchair. I obliged but later on I told her, "Actually, I can walk." She laughed and said it was the standard procedure. Along the way to the theatre, I saw staff greeting one another. Usually a hospital is a place of yin but the place had strong positive energy.
Professional procedure
I was greeted with another pretty nurse with dimples. Looks like a Burmese but her name suggested she might be a Pinoy. The other nurse who wheeled me in was undoubtedly a PRC. Damn. There was another older Chinese lady and a Caucasian man messing around with the computer. They were the doctors for sure. Damn, in the previous hospital I only needed to expose my dick to 2 person. There were 4 this time. Didn't help if the dimpled girl keep smiling. There was no room for shyness. I had to reserve my attention to handle a lot of pain soon.
The Caucasian man came over and introduced himself and briefed me clearly on what he was going to do. He looked like my brother-in-law (Jen's sister's husband) behind that mask. Weird. Then I was asked to sign a consent form. The nurses fussed over me and got me into position before the specialist took over. From here, the differences to the previous hospital were stark. After cleaning my wee wee, he injected a syringeful of clear liquid into it. I was told it was lubricant with anesthesia.
"I never had this in the last place...." I remarked.
"That was cruel," the doctor said. I wondered if it was of any use at all. I soon found out.
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| For recap |
Branden lookalike began to assemble an evil looking instrument with the smiley nurse, whose smile was beginning to look more sinister as the minute went by. I recognised that probe thing. They would be doing unspeakable things to me with it. Branden lookalike pierced something deep into the wee hole. I felt a heavy numb but little pain, much to my surprise. The gel worked after all. Still it was painful, just not fucking painful like the previous two. I took a few seconds for a silent curse. After an awkward delay, the doctor called out calmly, "I need a little hand here."
The Chinese lady doctor came over and handled me a little rougher and I felt a familiar pain. The scope finally made its way through and reach my bladder, where the introduced anesthesia wouldn't cover. Then they pumped water into the bladder to inflate it so that they could have a clear view. There was the same pain but the intensity was probably halved. Unlike previously, I did not have to clench my fist and could manage to open my eyes to watch the inside of my bladder on the screen like a documentary on TV. The Chinese lady was telling the (learning?) doctor what he was looking at and what was okay. She was meticulous and seemed to check every crevice until she was satisfied. Then she ended my ordeal and pulled the scope out. Though my wee wee was numbed by then, I could feel some water gushing out.
Wheeled out
Smiley nurse started to get busy. The tall PRC nurse got me to sit on the wheelchair after giving me sufficient time to recover from my shock. When we reached the resting room, she asked if my name was correctly pronounced. I said, "No as usual but never mind." She laughed and understood why and asked me where I was from before handing me over to a motherly staff who fussed over me.
Food?!
The first thing she asked me was, "What would you like to eat? I have plenty of crackers and cheese or would you be happy with a sandwich?" I raised my eye, stunned for moment and stammered, "Sandwich will do, thank you!"
"How about drinks? Coffee or tea?"
"Tea please."
"White or black?"
(Taken aback) "Erm....white."
"How many sugar?"
"Wa...er...1 will do. Thank you!"
Though I was told umpteen times by other Singaporeans to get used to being specific when it comes to order a drink, I have not quite gotten accustomed to it yet. (I rarely go out or socialise too) More so, I didn't expect to be served refreshments so I was caught by surprise. Even during one of my blood donations in Singapore, the refreshment guy would never ask me how much milk or sugar I wanted in my milo. If I asked, there was a chance he might have shown a finger to me. If I was in hospital, fat hope. Uncle, the water cooler is over there.
The Food
I opted for a sandwich and I expected one wrapped in cling wrap or something and a cup of tea in a Styrofoam cup. Instead, I got a large plastic set meal (like Mc Donald's big breakfast in Singapore) There was sandwich, with salad, chinese, diced tomatoes with lots of grated cheese between 2 pieces of multi grain bread. A mini sealed plastic cup of orange juice labelled "Full strength, no sugar added" and a piece of fruitcake with more fruits than cake. Beside it was my hot tea, white with 1 sugar. Wow. 3 cheers for the 3rd world.
I wished I had my mobile phone with me to prove that I wasn't hallucinating.
Thanks
I actually love the bitter cold of Winter. I love snuggling in bed like that. However, every Winter I would be unsettled throughout the nights. Back in my mind, I knew my cystoscopy appointment would be approaching. I neither look forward to the procedure nor the prospect of facing an unfavourable result. Perhaps this experience will change that next Winter. I would be happy to return to this hospital next year for the check. No doubt this isn't a procedure that most men will look forward to but Fiona Stanley Hospital really took the effort to alleviate the pain. I suck in writing a proper letter to compliment them, else I'll do so. Will someone send this post to them?
Cost
Nothing out of pocket. Yeah I pay tax and it probably came from my tax but so what?
Cost
Nothing out of pocket. Yeah I pay tax and it probably came from my tax but so what?
3 cheers also for this '2nd or 3rd class aussie citizen / resident' .....
ReplyDeleteLol. I didn't think much of what I do at work. But it is exactly as you described it to be. If I'm doing anaesthetics, "Are you comfortable enough? Can I get you another blanket?". If I'm in recovery, "I'm gonna check your blood pressure. Sandwiches alright with you? What can I get you to drink? Tea? Milk & sugar?"
ReplyDeleteI remembered your post about your cystoscopy the previous year. I thought you had pain in spite of the lignocaine gel. I didn't know that they didn't give it to you. When I did this in Sg for benign prostatic hyperplasia, they use it even though the patient is under GA. I can't imagine the pain you went through man.
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