My 26th Wedding Anniversary began at about 6:30 this morning. After washing up, we were off for my CT Scan. Traffic was bearable so we arrived early at the hospital (Imaging) where a modest crowd had already gathered.
A distinguished looking Sikh arrived with his elderly Datin of a mother. They were given immediate attention by the Head of Imaging himself. It is great to be important, I thought. You get to cut queues and your caregivers smiled at you.
It was a long wait. They finally called my number. (and I came in far earlier than the good Datin) I was ushered into a room where a young doctor in her early thirties explained the procedure before inserting one of those needles into my veins. She could not find a suitable vein after two attempts and I was left both punctured and bruised. The Datin sat daintily on a nearby chair. She was already prepared for the scan. Did I mention that I arrived at Imaging way, way earlier than her?
That was when the siren went off. Would you believe it? A fire drill! 365 days in a year and they chose to conduct a fire drill when I'm there for my scan. (The Datin must be cursing too.) We were instructed to disperse in an orderly manner down the stairway towards the outside of the hospital. While we stood in the early morning sun, a police van arrived, followed by several Bomba fire trucks. Then the press arrived. Let's not forget the three or four (maybe more) ambulances which were already at the scene. The crowd hung around to witness the charade which ensued. None of us looked amused or entertained.
Four firemen strolled into the building and strolled out again, each carrying the four corners of a tarpaulin which they deposited near the parked police van.. As the tarpaulin leveled itself on the ground, we saw a wounded dummy playing dead. An attending nurse covered the dummy with sheets of newspapers but you could still see the face of the deceased as blasts of air lifted the paper when people walked by.
Next, the firemen set up what looked like a tarpaulin medical tent outside the building. The "paramedics" arrived with the first ambulance and sauntered towards this tent. There was a burst of activity as firemen, policemen and paramedics convene. Three youngs girls emerged from the tent dressed in bandages and heavy make-up. (There should be a make-up artist inside the tent.) One of the young girls walked towards an open stretcher to play dead. The attending nurse covered her with sheets of white paper. (Maybe she ran out of newspaper) The girl who played dead fidgeted under the paper until someone had the presence of mind to remove the paper which was covering her face.
More ambulances arrived. Pee-poo-pee-poo-pee-poo! More firemen strolled into the building with more ropes. The paparazzi was all over the place. Some were wearing police and bomba uniforms while others were wearing hospital nametags. I thought I saw RTM and Times nametags but I couldn't be sure. And I couldn't be sure because I was bitching about the doctor who couldn't find a suitable vein.
In the midst of my whining, I suddenly felt a gust of wind which came at me from behind. The first thought which came to me was "Is that you, God?" That was followed by remorse, constructive prayer and a sense of calm. As if in answer to my question, a few more windy blasts hit me from behind and died down after my prayers were said. I'll tell you what is strange. My husband was standing beside me at the time and he did not notice the gusts of wind. There are some things in life you cannot explain, I thought.
The nurses continued to smile at each other while the firemen continued their leisurely stroll in and out of the building. Ambulances arrived and left without their cargo but with much to yell about it. Soon the paramedics started to disperse, the firemen dismantled their tent while the policemen gathered for group pictures. As the paparazzi went clicking about and receiving more request for group photos, we were finally asked to reenter the building in an orderly manner.
No comments:
Post a Comment