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.