A Harrowing Night

It may have been Halloween last night, but the past one month or so had been quite a harrowing experience for our entire family. It all started when Dad underwent a rather common surgery known as total knee replacement (TKR).

One of the things we have learnt from this experience is that no two operations are ever alike. Be it major or minor, the same surgery can have very different results on each individual. Just because a particular surgery had gone smoothly for one, there is no guarantee it will be the same for others.

Dad's knee replacement was rendered a success by the doctors and he was discharged within 5 days. There were some dark bruises on his leg, but he was assured that there was no blood clot or anything wrong with the operated leg, so he was allowed to go home. He was even able to walk around using his walking frame.

Nonetheless, he appeared to be extremely fatigued, which we attributed to lack of sleep during his stay at the hospital. At the same time, he had not regained his usual appetite, but again, we thought that was probably quite normal considering he had just undergone a surgery. Although he began spending quite some time in the toilet, we were not extremely worried because he has always had issues with his bowels.

On the fourth day of his discharge from the hospital, though, he started to behave rather differently. He demanded to double his mattress, raising it to almost the height of his waist. That irrational suggestion irritated the short-fused daughter (yours truly) who was rushing to get ready for work and I started berating him for that ridiculous idea.

As we exchanged heated words, however, I looked at my dad in the face and was suddenly shocked by his pale complexion. He was trying to argue back but could only manage to stutter and stammer in a very breathless manner. Although his scheduled checkup was in 2-3 days' time, we thought that perhaps it was better for him to make a visit to the Emergency Room (ER) just to see if he was alright.

I was not there during the first few hours at the ER. Thinking that perhaps Dad's condition was not too serious, I had left for class in college. When I was driving to join my brother at the ER in the evening, however, he called to inform that Dad had lost a lot of blood (something about his reading dropping drastically from 12 to 7) but the doctors were not sure where the bleeding was coming from. Internal bleeding?!!! My heart dropped, too. What did that mean? How did he suddenly take a turn for the worse from the moment I left him?

It took a gargantuan effort to hold back my tears when I saw Dad struggling uncomfortably on that short stretcher in the ER. I immediately regretted the harsh manner I had spoken to him just before leaving home. My mind started to wonder, "What if his bleeding does not stop? What if …? What if …? What if … ?"

In the midst of my fears and panic, a still small voice reminded me that God is still in control and that He is present even in the Emergency Room. I said a quick prayer for Dad. Strange, though, how much easier it was to look for the right words to pray for someone else's dad than one's own, especially when one was so desperate for a miracle then!

We were in the ER for quite some time since the doctors could not immediately identify the source of Dad's bleeding. Once in there, there was very little to do except to look around. It was then that I also gained a profound admiration for the doctors and nurses. Patient after patient were pushed in, yet these doctors patiently conducted test after test just to ensure that they had the right diagnosis for each case. Words could not describe the relief and triumph on their faces whenever one patient gets sent to the ward (which means they have managed to identify the problem and can safely hand over the patient to the right unit).

Occasionally, there were groups of doctors/housemen/trainees (not too sure what you call them) moving in rounds, analysing one case after another. They took turns to cross-check and query each other and this somehow assured us that the protocol was very thorough.

By midnight, they had pushed Dad to the Orthopedic ward. They suspected the bleeding to be from the operated leg. In any case, they had to transfuse 4 pints of blood to replace the blood which was lost.

Thus I spent the night accompanying Dad in the Male Orthopedic ward. Although it was way past midnight, doctors and nurses on duty kept coming to ask more questions about his symptoms and the medication he has taken. I guess, the time of the day has never been a factor at all to them since they were on duty at very odd hours anyway.

I looked around the ward, and was surprisingly comforted by a symphony of snores. No kidding, the other patients were deep in their sleep and collectively orchestrating a concert. It was definitely a change of scene from the Emergency Room hours ago. I muttered to myself rather smugly, "Wait till Papa recovers. He'll out-snore ALL of you!"  

The next few weeks saw Dad gradually recuperating in hospital while I tried a new career at being his Personal Food Panda, delivering meals from home as often as twice a day. While it was exhausting, I really thank the Lord that I still have the chance to serve Dad. The doctors later told Dad that had he arrived later, he could have suffered a heart attack due to insufficient blood supply! I shuddered at that thought, and thank the Lord for bringing Dad through the harrowing ordeal.

One other important lesson I have learnt through this experience is to appreciate our loved ones and to give our best while they are still around, for we do not know when the opportunity may be snatched from us.