DAY 1: SPUTUM ISSUES (PART 2)

I remembered cracking open my eyes to the sound of birds singing. The watery blue light of dawn was shining in through the windows. Some of the other patients in the room were already stirring. I was drenched in sweat once again.

I sat up slowly, careful not to tangle up the long loop from my drip bag. The other 3 patients were chatting amongst themselves, and I suddenly felt quite alone. I missed my home. A senior nurse came over to me after chatting to one of the 3 patients, She was friendly and told me to sit up as I would feel too warm if I continued to lie down. I sat up and she helped me bring the bed up so that I could sit upright. I thanked her and she smiled kindly before leaving.

Feeling bored, and not knowing when breakfast was coming, I took my drip bag off the stand and carried it with me to the toilet outside. When I came back, I was washing my hands in the common basin when one of the 3 patients, a middle-aged lady, pointed out that I was bleeding into the tube.

I looked down and saw that I was. It was nothing surprising as it had happened to me before after my breast operation. The blood would flow out for a short distance up the tube, staining it red. It looked kinda freaky, but I didn't feel anything. I thanked her and sat down. Another friendly nurse came in and the nice lady highlighted my plight to her. The nurse adjusted my drip to flush the blood back in. She advised me to keep the drip bag high above my head when carrying it around. At the same time, I was to avoid bending my right arm as the resulting pressure would cause more blood to leak into my drip tube.

I sat there for a while and just stared into space. A man came by with a tray of food for each of the 3 patients. I sat there waiting for my portion. The man confirmed that I was chinese before running off again. To kill time, I lifted a menu booklet out of a holder on the wall. They had 3 different meal sets for Chinese, Malay/Indian and Vegetarians. Not long after that, my food arrived.

I could not wait any longer. I was just famished. I lifted the pink lid off the pink bowl to find that breakfast was some delicious-looking chicken congee. There was a plastic wrap covering the top of the bowl, but I took it off easily. The hot, thick congee felt heavenly as it slid down the back of my throat.

While I was eating, the doctor who had examined me the night before, the young lady doctor, was doing the rounds with another young male doctor. They were talking with one of the other patients, an older woman. The lady doctor was working at this pedestal on wheels. There was a computer attached to it so it was essentially wheeled around as the doctors made their rounds. The male doctor came to me and examined me, checked my throat, breathing, heartbeat etc. He went out for a while to summon a more senior-looking doctor. After some discussion, the senior doctor said that I might have contracted tuberculosis.

Well, I stopped eating there and then. TB? That was quite unheard of. Last I knew of the virus it was uncommon in Singapore. People died of it in the past but the disease was largely eradicated with modern medicine.

I was told that I was to be placed in an isolation ward by myself until a sputum test could confirm my disease. After I finished breakfast, a nurse accompanied me and brought me to my new ward. There was a single bed and an attached toilet. With that, the door was closed and I was left alone.

I sat down for a while on the bed, trying to take in the sudden shocking news. TB? "HIghly contagious and air-borne" were the words that popped up in my head. I tried to think of how to tell my mum the news so that she wouldn't be too worried. When I called her up, I found out that she already knew having called up the staff nurse herself. I told her and dad not to worry too much. After all, it was "suspected TB" and not confirmed. After I hung up, I sat for a while and pondered my options.

A male nurse came in later with some vials, 4 in all, and a tub. I was to spit phlegm into the 4 vials for testing. The tub was for the excess phlegm. The sputum would be tested for the TB virus and would confirm it. I looked at the empty vials worriedly, I had hardly any phlegm, and previously never ever had the habit of spitting it out whenever I was sick. If I were unable to spit out phlegm, how was I to have my sputum tested?

I lay down and tried to rest. I found the sunlight glaring and turned the blinds to dim the light coming into the room. I tried to sleep but couldn't. After a while, my parents came by. They had to put on N95 masks to see me. Once they left, lunch arrived. I ate slowly, having little appetite. Then, I lay down and tried to rest again.

The fever came back, like a demon reborn. I was heating up like crazy. I tossed and turned in what I can only describe as a daze. I couldn't take it anymore. Water didn't help much so I decided to ask for medicine.

Thankfully, the medicine was already on its way. The same male nurse came in, and it was comforting to see that he did not wear a N95 mask. I didn't feel like I had some horrible disease and had to be avoided like the plague. He explained what the different pills were for and I was especially excited about a pair that was to be dissolved in water before being taken. That medicine, he told me, would help me produce some phlegm. My eyes lit up.

With the medication in my system, I started to break out in a cold sweat again. However, this was good as it brought my fever down. I didn't feel too lethargic and used the opportunity to take a bath. I felt much better. Soon, evening came and night fell. I went to bed, feeling pleasantly drowsy.

I woke up not long afterwards, feeling dizzy and hot. The fever was back again. A nurse came by every now and then to check my temperature and blood pressure, which didn't help things. I prayed hard that I would be able to spit out some phlegm for testing. The faster I was tested, the faster I would know what I had so that I could put my mind and my parents' minds at ease. At around 2am in the morning in my feverish state, I said one fervent prayer. And then the most astonishing thing happened.

The minute I finished reciting the closing words and Amen, I felt an itch in my throat. Then, I coughed out into the tub what would be the largest lump of phlegm I had ever seen in my life. I know it sounds gross, but to me it was like an early birthday treat. I closed my eyes and said a silent thank you. This was a sign that the medicine was working and I would easily be able to cough out 4 vials of phlegm for testing.

I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, drenched in sweat and having a fever. However, I was content.