Hope

Hope is the only thing stronger than fear.

Watch That Change

Dark turns to light.

Hope

Hey you.
Don't tell me there's no hope at all.

Follow Them

Hopes and dreams.

Wish Upon A Star

Make a wish.

The Man Beyond the Disease

He is a wizened, skeletal husk of a man. The cancer has eaten away at his flesh, leaving skin which stretches across his bony prominences, stretched so tightly across his skull that it seems I can see underneath the face of the man.

He smiles at me as we do our rounds, surrounded by his family, and I am buoyed by his optimism.

He has had cancer for four years, been operated on twice and has undergone four courses of chemotherapy and radiotherapy. He is currently admitted for complications of the cancer and for nutritional support, to prepare and strengthen him for another upcoming operation.

He is always with family, and his wife and daughter are always there, holding his hand.

Despite his ordeal, his spirit seems unbroken. He always smiles. He is always polite and positive. He never seems to berate the medical staff or blame the universe for the fate that has befallen on him. His family always smiles. 

He helps us keep our spirits up, the spirits of his treating doctors and medical staff. He helps us believe that good things will happen.

I admire his spirit. 

He looks like a husk of a man. But his spirit makes him more than all that.

Pray for MH370

When I woke this morning to have my best friend, a PR officer at Malaysian Airlines, cancel on our breakfast date due to last minute work - I didn't think much of it, not until I read the news about MAS's missing airline, MH370.

I remember feeling my heart sink - in this day and age, where flying is so common, it's something that hits very close to home - and the thought of the missing passengers and crew were heartbreaking. I remember being glued to Twitter, following the instant updates as they came - plane signal spotted, minutes later to have that debunked, speculations about a crash off one of the Vietnanese islands, debunked again... And then with the stupid statements.

People questioned the competency of the pilots, the safety and regulation of the aeroplane. The pilot, Captain Zaharie Ahmad Shah was an experienced pilot with over 18000 hours logged flying. The plane had 7.5 hours of fuel for a 6 hour flight. And MAS is well known for their strict regulations and maintainence of their aircrafts (safety record can be viewed here) - the Boeing was still way beyond it's expiry date of 20 years.

As of 9pm tonight, there is still no confirmed news, the flight is still classified as missing, speculations are running rife and the rescue teams are still out there and searching. 

Please stop the speculation and please do not share any information that does not have a verified source. So many of us out there are following news reports closely, friends and family of those affected onboard. Imagine knowing someone on the plane and have your heart leap in hope, only to have that feeling dashed moments later. 

For those who are criticizing the lack of announcement and confirmation, please realize that the airlines will not make a statement until there is evidence. The Air France crash of 2009 was not classified as a crash until three days after it went missing, and it was 5 days before the first bodies were found, and almost two years to get the wreckage and full recordings of the incident out. The plane was reportedly cruising when it disappeared from the signals, and there was no evidence of unusual weather activity. 

For the moment, please just pray for the safety and the best outcome of this case. In this day and age, it could have been any one of us, anyone we knew. Please keep them in your prayers.

Hope

Only Hope

There are times in my career that you realize what some things are all about. 

A patient in my ward deteriorated today. It wasn't something new - patients in the medical ward deteriorate all the time. Sometimes it's a progression of the disease. Sometimes, despite everything we do, it's their time to leave the world. 

He remained a medical conundurum of sorts, an elderly man who had been perfectly well on his anti-TB medications, save for some kidney complications. He suddenly started coughing up blood and ended up being electively intubated, ventilated on a machine to help him breath. I still remember him struggling as we intubated him, insisting that he could not breathe. I still remember taking his wife aside and telling her to be strong, and that hopefully he would survive this ordeal. 

Sometimes we sit there doing our best for patients, pulling out all stops in hopes that we will find that answer to the disease, to support the patient as their immune systems battle whatever underlying problems they have, and we forget that sometimes you need to put everything aside and start again. 

New diagnoses, new avenues of investigations. 

As we spoke to the family, I am reminded that a large part of our jobs include those beyond the patient - their families and loved ones, and despite us doing all we can, we must always prepare the family when a patient deteriorates. Telling family members is sometimes the most difficult part, and the most profound. Trying to express to them that perhaps it would be kinder to let the disease take it's course, and be prepared for the worst to happen. I don't hold back from participating in that grief, I know that their sadness is precipitated from the news that I tell them, that it is because of the possibility of their loved one dying that I've had to break these news. 

I know this is where I should be. 

I hope he survives this weekend and that when I come to work on Monday he will still be there. I hope that we have done something to help make him better.

I can only hope. But if it comes to that, I hope we have prepared his family to deal with the aftermath of that loss.