A compilation of some of the more poignant moments from when I worked in a hospital - Part 1
I’ve had this website for over two years now and I don’t know why it took me so long to write this post. It was obvious content RIGHT THERE!
So, anyway, in a previous life, I worked in a hospital for nearly four years as a research coordinator. I consider the experience a privilege and it really opened my eyes; I’m not sure anything else I’ve done could have made it clearer that life is not just about work better than my time in a hospital. Even though I didn’t spend a lot of time in the wards, I spent plenty of time with nurses (some of the most passionate people you would meet in your life) and older patients (who say the most random things casually but it makes you sit and wonder what you’re doing with your life) during my time there. There were a lot of cute moments, lessons, and plenty of “huh” moments that I thought would be nice to share and so have compiled them here.
Now, as a research coordinator, I expected to be interacting with people, scouring for similar papers to cite, and writing so many manuscripts to the point I could type out references in the APA format in my sleep. But what I did not foresee was the level of emotions that would be involved in the job. And that ironically, that some things in life just can’t be explained by research or science. So, here are a bunch of moments from my time there in random order because I don’t know how to group or rank them. And also, I like to think this randomness captures the randomness of the way these moments happened to me.
There was one time when I was walking over to another block when I passed by this elderly Indian Muslim couple. The husband was in a wheelchair and the wife was pushing him along. I smiled at them like I do at most people when the husband asked the wife in Tamil, “Doesn’t it feel like a burden to be pushing me around like this?” And the wife replied with a smile, “No, I enjoy it.” And the two of them then beamed at each other like couples in the honeymoon phase of their relationship.
An older couple holding each other’s hands so tight, to the point you can’t tell who is offering support to who while they walk, never stopped being adorable, never stopped putting a smile on my face or never stopped my thought of “How come I don’t have something like that?” And I saw older couples like that on a near daily basis. Where the husband would bring hot milo for the wife, where a couple shares a mee siam while waiting in between appointments, where the wife helps to comb the husband’s hair. Some of the couples I had to talk to for my research talked about this time in their life as an opportunity to finally spend time together, that it’s not about children or jobs or money anymore, or that they are so grateful their partner is still here. Let me tell you. If anything has made me have unrealistic expectations for love, it’s not my Tamil movies, it’s not my chick flicks, it’s not romcoms, but it’s my time in a hospital.
There was definitely something in my old office. I wasn’t particularly scared by it, or uncomfortable. But there was definitely something there. It was a neutral, almost pleasant energy. It felt soooo... present to the point that I mentally greeted it every day I walked in. It started to feel ridiculously rude to ignore it. I know how your mind can play tricks on you like when it's dark or you're alone but I've never experienced anything like this. The energy felt as ... I want to say solid? ... as the shared office kettle and me. Actually no, scratch that. The energy was loud. That's what it was.
Nothing has made me question what my passion in life was more than interacting with nurses. As one of the more challenging jobs, they obviously have to love going to work every day. But hearing terms like “It’s my calling”, “It’s my passion”, “It’s what I was put on earth for” on a casual basis really made me think about what my passion was. I mean, I could understand that following your passion is perhaps not for everyone, because life. But it did make me wonder what made me enthusiastic about life because that was a point where I felt like I had a dead end in life. To me, it was, I have a job, okay so what now? Is this it? My time in the hospital was how I learnt the importance of hobbies and though I never practiced it then, the importance of boundaries and that it’s entirely up to you to make your job a part of your identity. That your job doesn’t have to define you if you don’t want it to. And that if you don’t want your job to define you, better be sure to find and do the things that define you on the side. The best nurses had something they really committed to beyond their jobs; attending cooking classes, going on a hike (or walk) with friends, going to church on Sundays. I know we have this quote floating around recently about "Find three hobbies you love: one to make you money, one to keep you in shape, and one to be creative", but these nurses in their forties, fifties and sixties were already the living embodiment of the quote then.
I once had to gather data for a study in a six-bed room. I was so engrossed in my data collection process that I didn’t realise the steady beeping in the background was someone passing away in the very room. No other healthcare professional in the room seemed bothered by it and were going about what they had to do, except the ones who were actively tending to that specific patient that is. I, was quite affected and felt like I had intruded and disrespected the person and the family who were there saying their goodbyes. I only found out about it later when one of my study participants mentioned the beeping and hoped it didn't affect my study. I went “Oh my god!! I didn’t know! Should I have come by later?” The participant, a healthcare professional, gave a short smile, a shrug and a simple answer, “No, it’s okay. I mean. Life goes on.”
You meet at least one person a day who thinks nurses are people who aren't smart enough to become a doctor.
One Friday, I did my usual before-I-leave-office routine where I pack my things, set my lipstick out on my desk, go use the toilet, come back and touch up my lipstick before I leave for the day (I touch up my lipstick at my desk because I’m shy to do it in the toilet in front of people). So, I come back from the toilets and the lipstick I had set out on my desk is not there. I’m confused and ask my colleagues if anyone has seen it. No one has. I start searching my desk because I WANT that lipstick. It was a really nice red. I was going to wear it the next day at a company event. I was testing it out for its longevity and smudge proof-ness that Friday. I still can’t find it, and I start rooting around my entire cubicle. I’m causing a commotion because I just can’t let things go. So, my colleagues, being the nice people they are, help me look for it. Apparently no one had passed by this area either so no one could have taken it. There’s four of us scouring this tiny cubicle area. We are looking through all the drawers, the overhead cabinets, every file and folder, basically every inch. No dice. I’m disappointed, I say my goodbyes, we all leave. And I still can’t understand for the life of me where it went. The next day, I come back to work. I’ve pretty much forgotten about the lipstick and picked out another one for the event later on. I had to leave a document on my supervisor’s desk for her signature. I pick up the folder that had the document, retrieve the document, walk over to my supervisor’s desk and leave it there. I walk back to my desk when I notice that something is off. I’m still walking towards my desk, so I don’t know what’s off, but I know something is. Then I realise. My folder is jutting up instead of lying flat. I pick it up, flip it over and there’s my lipstick staring back at me. In a folder four of us had looked through approximately fifteen hours ago. I stared at it for what felt like an eternity and when one of the three colleagues came in, I demanded, “DID YOU PUT THIS IN HERE?” (It was a Saturday, so not many of us were in the office) aggressively waving my folder (with the lipstick still in it) at the same time as their bewildered “IS THAT THE LIPSTICK YOU WERE LOOKING FOR YESTERDAY?” When the other colleagues came in, it turned out this had happened to them before too – something they specifically put somewhere disappears, and then magically reappears. This was when I was working at a block built in 1926 that had fulfilled multiple roles from staff quarters to administrative block to patient wards so my colleagues and I came to one conclusion. “Someone” had borrowed it. And if you ask me, someone had borrowed it for a date night because it just so happens that my lipstick was that perfect shade of vintage red, like that Peggy Carter red. I honestly find it ridiculous to be even sharing this story now, but it just defies all explanations. And I just can't believe how much this was a consistent theme during my time there. Don’t understand something that has just happened? You literally can't put two and two together? Don’t question it. I tossed the lipstick in the bin, by the way, since I had no idea where it had gone. It was such a pretty colour. Such a shame.
And at this point, I had to stop because my document was far too long and after some trimming and editing, it was still 3200 words long. Which feels criminally short to act as a summary of four years. Anyway, part 2 will be coming out on Monday so be sure to keep an eye out for that!
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