hostile hospital

The muffled female voice kept going on and on after the bell “nombor tiga tujuh lima lapan… bilik empat”. It’s amazing how the machine is not annoyed at her own repeated voice.

I was at the HUKM’s eye clinic with my granddad one morning, waiting for his pre-op tests to be done. My poor datuk had to wait from 7am till 2pm, shuffling up and down the wards, doing checkups after checkups. He even had to fast from 12 midnight the night before so his blood can be tested clean.

In the waiting room filled with emotionless people, I can’t help but feel frustrated at how the everything was functioning on an extremely shabby system. Looking at the faces of everyone around the room, I also felt numb, and didn’t want to even think about complaining or expressing my frustration. Just let me get this over and done with and let me go home.

So I stood next to my granddad who was holding tight to his crumpled docket with his number printed on it. His eyes never left the number board with the blinking red numbers with arrows on them. The whole time he kept saying I should go do what I have to do, meet my friends, go out and see stuff… I guess he, too, felt bad I was there. I didn’t regret accompanying him all morning. I just feel bad I can’t do anything to make things better.

The younger ones were slouching on the metal waiting-chairs, keeping their eyes shut, pretending to sleep. I’d dare say that it’s to avoid witnessing the older folks struggling to stand with their canes, which they then had to avail their seats for them. The man behind the counter snapped back at me when I asked him where I can get a stamp for a proof of payment. “pergi klinik sebelah! Tak de orang di sini untuk chop bagi u!” (go to the other clinic, the person who stamps it is not here)
Ok fine! Don’t have to give me that attitude. I was tempted to roll my eyes right back at him and walk away showing him the “whatever” sign. But I didn’t. There’re enough grumpy people in the world already, I shouldn’t contribute to the stats. So I smiled at him and went to klinik sebelah—only to find the ‘stamper’ is out for morning tea. Great.

Maybe if I would have to see so many different kinds of patients everyday with different eye conditions, I might get grumpy too. Maybe it’s the uncontrollable crowd that spoils the whole system. Maybe the air conditioning wasn’t at optimum temperature. Maybe they’re hinting we should go to private hospitals and pay way more than this lousy service to hoi polloi of the normal class. Maybe I should just stop being so judgmental and be grateful that my granddad’s vision is ok now.