A Home Called Hospital - Cardiothoracic and Cardiology Team (PPUM)
To the doctors who cared for me – Prof. Sivakumar, Dr. Raja Burhanudeen, Dr Ariff, Dr. Afiqah, and the nurses.
I know I
should be over the moon, now that I am free again.
But I often
ask myself lately, as to why I am missing that time, when the moment seemed to
feel so safe and secure.
Perhaps I already know the answer...
Because I was safe shortly after I was saved.
Who would’ve
thought that in a place where souls flee from bodies, it would be the place
that I would feel the most alive?
But nothing
lasts forever…
Not sickness,
not disease, not money, not people – even moments that turned to memories, too,
would eventually be forgotten.
It’s
unthinkable for a patient to miss a hospital. But I do.
Because in
this hospital, I know that I am safe, whereas outside, I do not know what
awaits me.
Perhaps,
it is a kind of bond resulting from deprivation that led to me having a guilt-like
feeling, almost like having an affair up in the apartment, and having to leave
before six.
Dreading
to go ‘home’ where I should belong, yet have no definition of the word ‘home’
found around the house.
And clinging
to the corner of the bed, never wanting to leave, for the feeling of sentiments
had already blossomed to a vase of pink and champagne roses.
But I guess,
it is just as I said to that one person…
“I love
you more than I miss you.”
I know
that I need to leave because I have caused too much effort to be poured for
quite a while now.
And if to be missing means that I must be in ruptures, I would much rather be longing in my dreams.
Thank you for the forty-two days of care.
Yours sincerely,
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