Our Thursday started like any other day. Little did we know that it would take a tumultuous turn at 9.30 p.m., casting a shadow over what was supposed to be a normal evening at home. It all began innocently enough, with Alycia back from university and ate some fruits. Then she headed to the kitchen to wash a glass bowl after a meal.
The tranquility was shattered by a sudden, ear-splitting crack of glass, followed by Alycia’s piercing screams for help. Rushing to her side, we (Sherilyn, Cass and I) were met with a horrifying scene – her hands were cut, blood flowing freely, and the pain etched on her face told a story of its own. As someone with a high pain threshold, I knew this was serious.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I sprang into action, grabbing a cloth to staunch the bleeding and instructing Alycia to apply pressure to the wound. With a sense of urgency, we raced to the nearest hospital in our neighborhood, only to be met with the harsh reality that it wasn’t our insurance company’s designated facility.
The medical officer’s grave assessment sent shivers down our spines – Alycia’s wound was deep, possibly involving a cut tendon and nerves, necessitating immediate surgery. This would mean going into the OT, which costs anywhere from RM10k to 20k upwards. Despite the initial bandaging and anti-tetanus shot, we had to seek treatment at a hospital within our insurance coverage. I quickly called my insurance agent for her advice. Hubby who was having dinner at Hartamas sped to the hospital to settle the bill and to comfort us. We then went home first to pack Alycia’s bag.
Next, the race against time led us to Pantai Medical Centre, Bangsar, only to encounter a shocking predicament – no available rooms due to full occupancy across the Klang Valley. I was shocked and could not believe what the MO told us – that almost all the private hospitals in the Klang Valley had no rooms, even for emergencies.
Hubby then rushed us to Subang Jaya Medical Centre (SJMC), another hospital on our insurance panel. Initially, we were also told that there were no rooms but thankfully, we got a bed in a 2-bedded room later.
As the night wore on, the saga unfolded with a series of challenges – from the hunt for a room to the unexpected allergic reaction Alycia experienced to the prescribed antibiotics and painkiller administered via IV. Thankfully I discovered the allergy, which was mozzie-like bites on Alycia’s face and I informed the MO immediately. The medicine was stopped immediately and replaced by steroids, via IV, to prevent the allergy. Later, Alycia was taken for an X-ray of her injured left hand. The rollercoaster of emotions and the suspense of waiting for surgical intervention gripped us in a web of anxiety and exhaustion.
As Alycia lay on the bed in the procedure room at the A&E, hubby threw up in the car park and had bad stomach pain. He suspected that it could be something he had eaten for dinner at the Korean restaurant a few hours earlier.
Something similar happened on the first day of Cass’ major surgery at Gleneagles Penang 15 years ago. While Cass was in the OT, hubby was very sick and in the isolation ward in the same hospital, on suspicion of H1N1. Can you see the creepy and perplexing coincidence?
Alycia finally checked into her room at around 2 am. After I helped her to settle down, we went home. It was way past 3 am when I went to bed but I didn’t sleep soundly. I got up at 6 am as Cass has school and to feed Haru.
As the dawn broke on a new day, Alycia’s fate hung in the balance, awaiting her turn in the operating theater. She is the 15th in line on the waiting list for the OT and the nurses cannot confirm what time her surgery will be. Alycia has just been informed that the surgery would be performed at night.
The uncertainty and anticipation weighed heavily on our hearts, yet amidst the chaos and turmoil, there was a flicker of hope – the unwavering support and unity that carried us through the storm.
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