I hate hospitals. They bring back bad memories. I do have good memories of the births of my nephew and niece but the bad memories seem to outweigh good ones. Strangely enough, I just can’t stop watching Grey’s Anatomy. It’s not really my most favourite TV show, but it’s up there. I know that in reality doctors don’t really have time to dedicate to a patient’s personal affairs, but in the show they do. I think that’s the reason I keep watching. Because unlike the doctors who treated my mum at the hospital prior to her death, the doctors in the show care about the patients and their families. And when a patient dies, they don’t tell the family “You did know it was coming, right?” like the doctor who declared my mum’s death did. They’d say they’re sorry and mean every words. For an hour every week, I see doctors they way I wanted the doctors who treated my mum to be. Warm and caring.
Obviously I still have issues with the circumstances surrounding my mum’s death. How we couldn’t afford to keep her in the intensive care unit. How incompetent the nurses outside the intensive care were. How I had to watch my mum stop breathing and die. How when the doctor finally showed up, it was already too late. How I had to wash my mum’s dead body before her funeral. How no one gave me a hug. The list of issues could go on and on forever, I could write a book on it. No wonder I still have nightmares and flashbacks five years later. I should’ve seen a grief counsellor but there was no such thing in Indonesia. Not that I knew of anyway. I wonder if it’s too late to see one now. Probably is.
Not a happy post, but it’s a post. Let’s see if anyone would leave any comments. :)