Year of the Hospital

2008 is the "Year of the Hospital".

I've been to the hospital so many times this year that I've lost track.

I was just there yesterday again to visit my grandpa. He's been there for the past two weeks... what started off as severe back pain ended up as liver cancer. I was the third person to find out and the one to break the news to my family and the relatives last night.

When I arrived at New York Downtown Hospital... formerly known as "Beekman Hospital" or the "Hospital of Death of Chinatown" among the Chinese community, it felt like second nature. I just walked right in. Hospitals never gave me the creeps or ever gave me the butterflies in my stomach. During my years as a nurse's assistant, I've seen many sick patients, mean nurses, and even witnessed some paranormal activities with a bunch of nurses at the nurses' station.

I've fed blind patients, bedridden patients, changed bed sheets, took temperatures, measured respiration, measured pulses, updated patient charts, and was even trained to contact "Dr. Pacemaker" and to assist with the crash cart. But, it is quite different to be on the other side of the fence with a sick family member.

My grandfather's condition compared to Monday was much better already. He was able to eat, drink, and even talk. On Monday, he was tied down to his bed for over two hours without painkillers. The nurses only gave him two Tylenols when he was suppose to have morphine administered. The restraints they used had left black bloody marks on both his arms. Too graphic to post on a blog, so I decided not to take pictures.

I spent time talking to him and giving him water and trying to get him into a cheery mood. I told him to make sure he drinks water when thirsty and to eat when he's hungry, so that he can get better soon so that he can leave the hospital.

"No. I don't think I'll be leaving the hospital loh..."

When he said that to me, I was surprised and curious why he said it. At this time, I still didn't know the results of his biopsy. After a few moments, I asked the nurse to update me on his condition and this is when the nurse decided that a doctor should update me instead.

Another 15 minutes passed by and a doctor came to see me. He went into the test results and mentioned the word "cancer" twice. At that point, I asked the doctor to leave the room with me so that my grandfather wouldn't hear the word "cancer" again. Even though he doesn't speak a word of english, he was intelligent enough to past his oral citizenship exam in english and he most certainly know what "cancer" is because my grandmother died from cancer.

The doctor said the cancer seemingly originated from his liver and wasn't spread from another part of his body, but further testing was needed to find out if the cancer also spread else where. The cancer is considered inoperable according to the doctor, since it is 7 mm in size and 5 mm was the max size they would operate on... I think I heard this all correctly. But, whatever the case might be... he has cancer and chemotherapy was the answer.

After my conversation with the doctor, I stepped back into the room and sat down on the recliner. I sat there with my head down and said a prayer for my grandpa as he nodded off in a light sleep. When I got up and walked over to his bed side, I gently crested his hand and patted on his lap. He woke up and was quiet and still. I was thinking to myself, "Gosh... I shoulda spoke with the doctor outside to begin with." Moments later, his wife (not my grandma) arrived with some congee for him to eat. She asked if I heard the news and I nodded. She continued on about his condition in front of my grandpa and that lead me to think that he already knew that he had cancer. I stepped to the side a bit further from my grandpa's line of sight and signaled to her if my grandpa knew and she replied verbally, "Yes. He knows."

All this time, my grandpa knew that he had cancer and didn't tell me. I was surprised, but relieved at the same time.

At the end of the visit, I asked his wife to take good care of him for me and I told my grandpa that I would come see him again. As I left his room, he sat up a little and waved goodbye to me with a smile on his face.

Prick Therapy

I've been doing some thinking lately and I am kinda exploring the possibility of a career change. I've always wanted to work within the health care industry since high school. I've volunteered at Coney Island Hospital as a nurse's assistant where I fed patients, took their temperature, pulse, and respiration readings. I also was trained to change their sheets, give them bed baths, and assist the doctors with the crash cart in the event a patient was going into cardiac arrest. I loved it all, but didn't explore further into the field... partially because I didn't quite get the emotional support from my family or the encouragement a young mind needed to make a dream into reality... the furthest I've gotten in my senior year was considering studying dentistry or radiology. Alas, engineering at the time was a hot field... hence, I picked to study electrical engineering and later computer engineering in college. The rest as they say, "is history."

Ten years after my bachelor's and about four years after my master's, I'm finding myself wanting to change my career. I can't exactly see myself programming much longer or even being a project manager in the long run. I think I need something more. I want to make a difference in people's lives on an individual basis. My engineerng teacher in high school at one point convinced us medical science students that being an engineer was better than being a doctor. He said that as a doctor, you can only help one person at a time, but as an engineer, you can help the masses. I suppose he is 100% right to some degree, but I don't find it as satisfying now as I first thought I would. I crave the individual attention that I can give someone.

I guess when you grow up dealing with doctors and hospitals most of your life because one of your parents need regular medical care and you see how most patients are treated by what I call "business doctors", you know how disgusting it can be. If I were a doctor, I can never see a patient as a dollar amount or just a prescription away from getting them to leave your office. I am simply taken aback by how common it is for a doctor to simply write you prescriptions for whatever you want before they even lay hands on you to diagnose your health problems.

Once I was telling a female doctor that I was having anxiety issues and that I was feeling depressed, she just leaned on a counter and smiled/smirked at me. Then she got up and started writing several prescriptions to "treat" my problems. She said, "These medications will make you feel all better", as if she was selling me drugs on the streets. She didn't bother to explain any further even when I asked her questions. She just continued to smile and told me to take the medications.

After I left her office, I was like... "What the fuck?!" I did get the medications, just in case I needed to "feel all better", but I also refused to take them unless I really had an anxiety attack. Since this wasn't my first time having these issues, I simply resorted to taking things easy and as they come.

I think it's a bit late in the game for me to become a "real" doctor or something... but, I thought, perhaps I can study acupuncture and Chinese herbal medicines? I don't know much about any of this, but I was able to dig up some info online. Actually... what sparked all this was a brochure I picked up at San Jose University when I was there to play racquetball during my vacation. Perhaps all this was not a coincidence? I already had thoughts about acupuncture four years ago, but I guess, more recently the thoughts have become stronger.

In the underlying reality, I subconsciously always wanted to heal my mother of all her pains and aches due to a fall she had in her thirties and simply to heal her overworked body from being a farm girl at a young age, to being a seamstress over the years. I've grown sick and tired of all those doctors that tried to help, but couldn't or didn't help, but made things worst for her. I don't think I ever will become an orthopedic surgeon in this life time to heal her, but perhaps I would be able to use acupuncture to lessen or even rid her of her pain and to help her sleep at night? I think I can still achieve this in this life time. What do you think?

I need to do some more soul searching... as I would hate to start something and not finish. It's a big change for me... especially at this point of my life. I hate school, but perhaps, studying something that I truely love would make the difference? What do you think?

Roscoe, NY

The world economy is spiraling into a recession... but, for me, it feels more like a depression. My co-workers and I just watch the DOW plunge and rise and plunge and rise each day... alas... the DOW is way down from a month ago. I have lost about 50% of my total investments with not much wiggle room left. My 5 year ARM mortgage is about to adjust in a short eight months... which means, an even higher monthly payment. Heating oil is a bitch. To heat the house for about 6 hours a day would cost me about $500 a month. I don't even blast the heat... I keep it at a constant 67 degrees at night and in the morning and a constant 60 degrees during the day. My studio's monthly maintenance fee went up about 25% three months ago to help pay for the building's heating cost this winter. In addition to the monthly maintenance cost, I also have to pay an additional $90/mo for the past three months to help pay down the heating bill that the building incurred LAST winter.

With all my three tenants now gone at the Pink House, a roughly 25% increase in electricity, a 7% property tax increase on top of an existing 18% increase, and no additional income... I feel that I'm screwed.

I will be calling my real estate agent today to finalize the terms in selling the Pink House; a move many of my friends and co-workers say is the wrong move at this time since the market is so down and chances of getting a loan is so difficult. I've tried the rental approach and it has gone no where... apparently, I'm "too far" from the city. Well... I may be a 35 minute train ride to the city, but I'm not exactly charging two arms and a leg to live in the Pink House either.

Whatever the case maybe... taking a step back from it all, I am still considered very lucky. I still have a job with a good salary for what I do. I have a close family and friends to lean on when I need to. I have my health. I can work and can find work if I do get laid off.

I recently visited Roscoe, NY... famous for the Roscoe Diner and the flood that wiped out a good part of the city a year ago. This rural area, about 100 miles northwest of NYC, had about 8 inches of rain in a span of 2 hours with sustained winds of 50 mph. The flood carried homes off their foundations and destroyed much of their roads. Aid to those who needed it were hampered due to the downed power lines and spotty cell phone services.

What's left of the town center is... rather depressing. The whole town center spanned about three blocks by three blocks with numerous boarded up store fronts and shattered windows. Among the abandoned lots where numerous store fronts for rent and lots for sale. On the edge of the town was an abandon home that was in the middle of an expansion. The windows where mostly intact, but the doorways where completely boarded up with ply-wood. The only life that was left in town was Buffalo Zach's Cafe, the only Internet cafe, connecting them to the outside world. The cafe even served soy milk for lactose intolerant people like me. The Roscoe O&W Railway Museum and Caboose was... uhmmm... just a semi-rusting caboose sitting on a what seems to be an empty lot. I didn't spot any tourist or an agent selling tickets either.

Other than touring the town, I also took a hike on one of Roscoe's washed out roads. Upon entering the "unmaintained" road, I felt a chill. It was a rush of the past communicating with me with every step I took. The first few steps on the road started off with asphalt which gradually changed into crumbed asphalt mixed with dirt to completely dirt and rocks. A 10 foot stream flowed to my left with a fallen tree bridging the two banks. The water was very shallow, very cold, clear, refreshing, and free of impurities. I even saw one tiny baby fish stuck between two rocks that was trying to continue down stream but couldn't; that's how shallow the water was.

As I hiked along the washed out trail, I saw many more fallen trees and crumbed away pavements. The trail became less and less walkable without having to dodge branches, over grown weeds, trees, and having to walk along a foot wide trail without spraining an ankle on the rocks. The trail was completely peaceful. No signs of living beings other than a family of five that was hiking back out the trail. I didn't hear birds, squirrels, or wild animals. I just had to combat the occasional fly and mosquito. I felt I was walking back in time in search of the ruins.

After hiking for about 40 minutes, I was completely thrown back by what I saw ahead of me. It sent chills throughout my body and I froze in my tracks. I approached it very slowly in awe. It was what's left of a bridge for cars that bridged the banks of the stream. What's left was this massive rusted semi-circular foundation of the bridge. The side railings were gone and had washed down stream and the concrete pavement was completely gone. What was exposed was only the bridge's foundation and a half torn off railing. Everything was rusted. The stream continued to flow under the bridge and the footings of the foundation could be seen exposed in the water.

I slowly crept across the bridge to the other side and felt like I stepped back in time. Silence.... even the sound of the stream was drowned out by the chills running up and down my back. I continued to walk on the washed out path and came across a much wider section of the stream which was to the right of me now. The depth of the stream was at least 10 feet. If I fell off the narrow trail, I would surely be injured with the bedrock of the stream exposed... hiking further up the trail, I came across more trees and what used to be the old stream before it redirected itself after the flood. I walked in its old stream bed and came across a pile of stones that were carefully arranged into a tower formation... it was spooky... as if I was looking at something from the past in the present... like Stone Hedge. Before I left the trail on my return trip, I too made a mark in time by placing a stone on the stone tower myself. I wonder if the tower will still exist if I ever return back to Roscoe.

This trip really made me appreciate the people and things that I have in my life. An already depressed town in the old rust belt still manages to survive after a disaster. With it's population of roughly 1000 people and a school of 300 students from grades pre-k to 12, Roscoe did well. People still stop by this small town on their way to Binghamton on Route 17 to fly fish, hike, camp, and just to eat at the Roscoe Diner. People here appear happy when I spoke with them. Even the teenagers working at the Buffalo Zach's Cafe didn't complain about the nearest mall and movie theater being 45 minutes away by car. That says something, doesn't it?

We as human beings can adapt to our changing environment and CAN live on less when we need to.

Roscoe is a great weekend town, but it's definitely not my life style. I still need to see people and buildings and have more than a tiny handful of restaurants to eat at. For now, I will continue to indulge in my city life, but also learn to scale back in the changing economy. I guess I will rest with the thought knowing that if I ever sold my studio or Pink House, with the money, I can buy a lake house for about $145k in Roscoe and live like a king... well... maybe not... as there are no jobs.

This is the sign right before the road ends and the hiking trail starts. Cars are no longer permited beyond this point.

This is what part of the trail looks like. The road was washed away and was replaced by rocks and soil.

This is one of the smaller fallen trees on the trail. There were trees that were 3-5 times its size.

This is the washed away bridge. The picture doesn't show the grandness of the bridge. The concrete pavement on top is completely gone and the iron is rusted away. You can still see what's left of the railing on the side. I actually found the other pieces of the bridge about 100 feet down stream from it. Cars used to travel over it.

This is the stone tower that I came across in my path. It sat in the middle of what used to be the stream bed. I decided to add a stone to the tower myself before I left the hiking trail.