My First Hospitalization

Did I mention that there was a sizeable anomaly growing in my right lung?

It's quite a long story as to its discovery but the short version is that multiple xrays in January taken to ascertain whether I had tuberculosis instead led to the finding of a mass in my lower front of the right airbag. No I don't have TB. I sense a sigh of relief among the people I may breathe on and around. (There is a sign at the TB Clinic that read in no uncertain terms "Tuberculosis is a serious infectious airborne disease".)

I also went for a CT Scan where they lay one down on a bed at moves vertically and one direction horizontally through a giant ring. Inside the ring, something spins. It takes images in slices across the vertical plane of whatever's in the ring. That was me was weeks ago when embarassingly my dry left contact lens managed to elicit a tear of relief that promptly exited my then horizontally reclined eye, down my face. The nurse thought I was afraid. Goodness. The only other things I remember from this scanning was that the machine was made by Siemens, the spin frequency was 666Mhz (because there was a display right above where I lay, the sides of the aircon vents on the ceiling looked filthy and the attendants took an ominous pause when they came out of their room to tell me the procedure was over.

When I told some friends about this mass, it got christened "a piece of mutton" and "sponge". At home, the folks expressed their worry and lamented at what a 'suay' the start of the year had been. I was not quite as worried.

The docs were curious though. So they set me up a biopsy to extract some fleshy morsels and run various tests. That happened today, a day surgery at Tan Tock Seng.

I was decked out in hospital patient gear, a fashionable blue set of pajamas and a giant apron that went around my neck and was open at the back. Wheeled down some floors on the hospital bed, I met my good friend CT scan machine again. This time it would the doctor's guide in his quest to fish out some flesh.

And what you saw on House is true. Biopsies hurt! They administered a local anaesthetic and those injections hurt like hell already even before the big needle made its presence felt. Come on, right lung with a rib cage in the way, something's sure gotta hurt. I was of course looking up all the time, at same not-so-pleasant ceiling, with the 7 vertical slits of the CT machine's built-in speaker some 5 inches up and ahead from my face plus a yellow light that kept coming on when the guiding laser was positioned. Yes there was a laser, probably like those laser sights that produce red dots on targets for assasination in the movies. As I was slide into the ring, I read a sticker on the inner side of the ring that read "Class 2 Laser Device. Do not look into the laser directly" - a cause for concern since I was in the spinning ring of image gathering. So the doc came round, introduced himself and got on with the procedure.

He disinfected the area with at least 3 cold fluids and a spray which made my body quivver. Then came the pain relief injections that hurt so bad dispensing their wares. There were other sets of insertions and compressions to my chest and the whammy, I could feel the needle entering the deeper recesses of my chest, into the lung. It hurt. I tensed like any human would, my spine tightening and back sweating. All the while I kept tellingyself to breathe with long, controlled inhales and exhales to relax and not freak out but makes you do dumb things. And guess what? The needle didn't quite hit the spot. So there another poke. This time I knew the doc was fiddling on target because after a bout of insane pain, I could not breathe normally. Yup, he got the lung! Funny that people say you can survive with one lung that it isn't quite the slight difference you expect. With difficulty breathing and a right arm very numb from being propped over the head for eternity, it was a new level of physical agony I was brought to. Wow, I never knew it could hurt so bad. I wanted the doc to stop. I also knew it didn't matter if I did ask him to cease. This pain wasn't gonna go away in an instant.

Having got the stab right, the doc asked me to "breathe in, breathe out slowly". That screwed up my conscious attempt at relaxation and threw my mind and lungs into uncoordinated disarray. I was a little pissed. Was I not calm enough for you suck out spongy samples? At the same my brain rationalized that breathing out slowly gave the doc some control over how to manipulate the extraction. Imagine all this thinking happening as searing pain radiated in my chest.

Slightly traumatized I guess I was, even the operation was over because the pain and laboured breathing didn't end. The blood was returning to my arm as I lay outside along the corridor in the Diagnostic Radiology department staring blankly at the flourescent lighting above. Ow ow ow ow ow! My mouth was too dry to utter anything, my brain was processing my anguish. The doctor came over to ask if all was ok. I can't remember when he explained that the mass kept moving with my breathing and that made the extraction tougher. Oklah.

I was wheeled up to my shared room and progressively the pain subsided. TV provided some relief too although all channels were free-to-air. Then the relief of Milo and biscuits (I had to fast since midnight the night before and it was about 11am when chocolatey goodness was dispensed. Thank you kind nurse) and then lunch. It wasn't bad - I had chappatis (!) and mildly curried chicken and green veg.

By 2pm I was addicted to a TV3 melodrama about a bad son and his undoing/retribution. It wasn't half bad but had to whisked away for another xray to check the lung was fine. My mum filled me in on what transpired on the show when I got back.

All clear was at 430pm. We proceeded to then have a Killiney teh si and then thosais in Little India.

At home, I confirmed the dual vampire punctures from the repeated entry of the big bad biopsy needle with two distinct spots of dried blood remnants on the bandage that I need to keep on till ten the next day.

Now to rest and heal.

Side note, I ran into a friend from JC who's now a doctor (ahem!) in TTSH, and I learned that my body redirects stress to my lower back. That's probably why I suck at some yoga poses.