A few weeks ago (Oct.19th) I went to my family doctor’s office to get my foot checked out. I haven’t been able to feel the big toe on my right foot since the Friday before. Originally I thought it is going to heal on its own, but the facebook population urged me to get it checked out. So I made an appointment with the doctor late Tuesday evening.
When I arrived at his office, it was overflowing with people. The seats inside were taken (there weren’t many though), and several others were standing outside. The receptionist seemed to be overwhelmed with paperwork and phone calls. I waited for a while before checking in, only to have the receptionist looking at the clock and telling me to come back in another forty minutes.
So over to the food court I went and ordered myself my favourite (but pricey) meal: Korean rice cake with your choice of chicken, beef or pork. It was a more-than-enough meal, but I managed to finish it just in time to stroll leisurely back to the doctor’s before the 40mins was up.
When I turned the corner, I was surprised to find his office still busy. But it seemed like they were all waiting for something besides to see the doctor. I peered into his clinic and saw some free chairs, so I sat down inside to wait.
Out of the corner of my eye the other people’s subtle movements and the unspoken tension inside the office caught my attention as I pulled out my iPod. I immediately noticed a man sitting at the seat nearest to the door who was holding a thick pile of folded paper close to his heart.
The next minute I heard my doctor talking on receptionist’s phone to the security at the mall about ambulance and paramedics. I put on the ear phones and pretend to listen to my iPod. The doctor sounded mad and anxious. He hung up the phone quickly and went over to the man sitting by the door. He assured him the ambulance is coming. The man’s son, who looks to be in his teens, looked at his watch and said they’ve been waiting for almost an hour. The doctor told him that if anything happened before the paramedics came, he’d be capable of taking care of everything. He then hurried back into his office and saw another patient.
About 5 minutes later several paramedics showed up and crowded the small clinic. The lead paramedic, a woman, immediately started to take charge of the situation. She told the man to take off his shirt and that they’re going to “take a picture of [his] heart”. The other paramedics then proceeded to attach receptors that are connected to a machine onto his chest. She asked a lot of questions about his chest pain. And he answers them diligently.
All this is went on for about 10 minutes while his family watched worriedly. There must have been about 6 people who were anxiously waiting for a medical deliberation. The stretcher arrived and it was decided that the man be taken to the hospital despite not displaying anything too abnormal.
The doctor talked to the paramedic and complained about the lateness of their arrival. The lead paramedic argued that they arrived within 3 minutes of the call but was held up at the security for more than 30 minutes. The doctor told them that he is going to approach mall management the next day. The paramedics leave with the man on the stretcher, and the families part in their own cars, only to meet up later at the hospital. The doctor is relieved and went back to his wait-list of patients. The entire ordeal was over in 15 minutes.
The whole time I was watching from the corner of my eyes I couldn’t help but relate to what happened to dad. I was happy for the man in the chair even though he is sick because he was lucky to have so many family members share his burden and pain. SIX people accompanied him to the clinic just for a check-up! Dad, on the other hand, kept it all to himself and had to suffer alone. No one. (Well, none except his sister and niece I think.) Suddenly I am sad and angry at the same time – like all those times when I think of dad. Sad that he had to endure his sickness alone, and angry that he didn’t tell us so we could at least take some of his pain with us. The details surrounding his death is so muddy that it makes moving on difficult. I haven’t forgotten, and will never forget his incredible courage and honourable stupidity. If only it really “worked” according to his plan…
I can’t remember the last time I was truly happy after he died. I feel like a robot carrying out my “duties and tasks”. I am only doing thing because I am obligated to or if it’s “good for me”, or . I’ve lost passion for life, and I’ve locked my cold cold heart away…
Anyway, turns out my toe has been suffering from a nerve damage and should recover on its own. But I still can’t feel all parts of my toe now (Nov.11). My toe is numb just as the world is numb to me.
