Monday, January 24, 2005

Pre-Op Blues

After lunch last Saturday, I accompanied my aunt and my mom to St. Vincent’s Hospital in Marikina where my aunt was to have her cataracts removed. The operation was scheduled at 2pm; we were told to look for the doctor’s secretary an hour before surgery.

When we got to the doctor’s clinic in the said hospital, his secretary was out; instead, another woman was inside, with a yaya and a child in the inner room.

“Ay, kayo ba ang pasyente para ngayong two o’clock?” she asked. Yes, my aunt replied. “Kumain ba kayo ng lunch?” she asked again. My aunt said yes.

“Aba naku! Hindi puwede yan! Hindi dapat kayo kumain! Patay kang bata ka—hindi ba kayo nasabihan? Hindi ba kayo nakinig sa doktor?” She went on and on in a rant.

My mom and aunt were just quiet. I could see my mom’s face hardened.

She continued to rant. “Dapat hindi kayo kumain pagkatapos ng breakfast! Kahit inom, bawal! Lunok-laway lang puwede. Kasi pag inooperahan ka na, puwedeng mag-vomit ka’t mamatay sa iyong kinain. Naku, may kakilala ako, ganoon siya namatay! Blah… blah… blah…!”

Then the secretary came in. “Ayan na siya!” She addressed the secretary. “Huy, kumain siya, hindi yan puwedeng operahan, kailangan i-reschedule…blah…blah…blah…!”

The secretary addressed my aunt: “Hini hma khayo nhashamihan hni ndoc?”

Oh my god, she’s ngo-ngo.

My aunt looked at my mom, who looked back at her then at the secretary. I had to translate: “Auntie, nasabihan ka ba raw ni Doc?”

“Hindi,” my aunt answered.

The other woman repeated her rant: “Naku, bawal nga yan! Puwede kayong mamatay!” The secretary interrupted: “Shhh, ‘wag mo naman takutin siya.”

Fast-forward: the secretary was able to get in touch with the doctor, who requested that the operation be moved back to 5pm. By that time too Miss Blabbermouth herself had to leave along with the yaya and the baby.

When the door closed, my mom who was quiet the whole time asked the secretary: “Sino ba yun?”

I spoke up, not hiding the anger in my voice: “Hindi siya marunong mag-handle ng mga customers. Hindi ko gusto ang tabas ng kanyang dila. Bastos siya. Konti na lang, nasigawan ko na siya.” I said this in a steady tone, with venom in my voice.

The secretary answered, “Ndenthishtha mpo sha ndithoh.”

“Pakialam ko kung dentista siya. Hindi tama yung ginawa niya,” I snapped.

The secretary was speechless; clearly, she couldn’t defend the other woman. She just said to my aunt, “Halina po kayo, i-a-admit ko na kayo.”

Later on, after my aunt was already admitted and we had all calmed down, the secretary tried to apologize for the other woman’s behavior. She didn’t mean to scare my aunt, she said. She just got carried away.

My mom spoke. “Okey na yun. Hindi ko lang gusto kasi yung pananalita niya, eh sino ba siya.”

“Akshuhwaly, shishther koh hyun.”

Eep! Her sister?!

She continued to apologize for her sister; she grabbed my arm, making lambing to win me over since I was the angriest among us.

I wanted to get her off me; her speech defect was already grating to my ear. “Okey na yun. Wala na yun,” I told her.

The day after, I told my mom, “Next time ha, sa St. Luke’s clinic ni Doc na lang tayo, ha?” She just nodded her head.