• By ebotpandayan
• Posted in Uncategorized
• On February 3, 2021
• 15 Comments.

It came like sudden death. There was no warning. I was walking to the subway station near where I live in Vienna when it hit me. I remember taking off my face mask because I thought I was not getting enough oxygen. I inhaled the cold air, which went straight to my lungs. Suddenly, my body shook, and my vision blurred. I must have passed out because I was lying on the concrete pavement when I opened my eyes. People were staring at me, including two young women in a white dress. They were nurses from a nearby Children’s clinic. A man with a baby stroller was on his knees talking to me. What happened? I asked in a weak voice.

“You fainted,” he said. He was on his way to a Children’s clinic nearby when he saw me fall down on the ground, my left knee first because of the bruise, then on my face. It was a bad fall, he recalled. He ran to the Children’s clinic to get the doctor, who wasn’t there yet. The two nurses came with him to see me. One lifted my head and woke me up. I must have been lying on the ground for quite a while until they came to check on me. When is the ambulance coming? That was the young father with the baby carriage. It’s been a while since I called them, he said.

I struggled to stand up. It was then that I realized that my front teeth –two crowns and two real ones were shattered into pieces; I felt them in my mouth when I moved my tongue to speak. The nurses quickly assisted me and guided me to the walkway bench. One nurse noticed that my mask was blotted with blood, so she quickly ran to get a fresh one from the clinic. I must have been a wreck because of the increasing number of people stopping by to see what the commotion was all about.

Inside the ambulance getting ECG.

I was still dizzy when the ambulance arrived, yet I managed to thank the good Samaritans who came to my rescue. I hope to find them later so that I can express my sincere gratitude for their kindness. At times like this one I had just been into, it was heartwarming to know that there are still people who care for their fellow human beings, regardless of race and color, especially after a former official of a political party in Austria said that Chinese people are a piece of shit; they cannot be trusted. His lawyer apologized later, explaining that his client was on some medication. I could easily pass for Chinese. Definitely not a white man who, according to white supremacists, is superior to other races.

Done with my first aid and ECG, the ambulance took me to the nearest hospital where, two years ago, I was admitted for lung embolism, irregular heartbeat rhythm, and pneumonia – all happening in one go. I went there for consultation, and the doctors kept me for a harrowing six days until I was declared fit for release. It was the beginning of a lifetime-maintenance medication.

At home, after I was released from the hospital, with some Mona Lisa Smile. Despite!

At home, after I was released from the hospital, with some kind of Mona Lisa Smile. 

Blood samples were taken from me by two medical students who had difficulty finding an artery to insert the needle in my vein. The arteries in my arm were all collapsed. After several trials and errors, they finally found one: on top of my hand; this, after several punctures, made me look like a perfect model for substance abuse. What with my face covered with hematoma! I had to wait at least two hours to get a magnetic resonance imaging of the brain. The attending physician in charge of me said that I needed to stay overnight for a battery of tests the next day.

I spent several hours, practically the whole afternoon and early evening, lying on a stretcher until a hospital attendant took me to the Ambulatory Surgery Department, where a nurse administered an electrocardiogram. I knew what the result would be—irregular heartbeat rhythm. To save them the work of sending me to the hospital’s Heart Department, I told him it was not new to me. I’d been seeing my cardiologist regularly, and he stopped worrying when previous results confirmed that I might have had this syndrome since childhood.

While I was subjected to this procedure, a man in bed on the other side of the hall was screaming all the time. HILFE, HILFE, POLIZEI! (Help, help, Police). The nurse and the doctor reading the ECG result didn’t pay attention. That was torture for the patient and me. I had two hours of sleep. I kept looking at the remote control hanging over my head to call the nurse’s attention if I needed one. And then it was 4:00 AM. I needed to go to the bathroom, but that would mean waking up the two night-duty nurse team who, I believed, were sleeping alternately. I was like an octopus with a tentacle of cable wires attached to my body to control my blood pressure. Ok, I said. I also decided to take off my Levis trousers for easy maneuvering that tiny pinch bird who needs a breather now and then caged in tight blue jeans even at bedtime. The lady nurse came to me and asked while unhooking me if I wouldn’t want to have a piss bottle beside my bed. It was about 4:30 AM when I finally dozed off. Still, a half-hour later, the two nurses entered the room and switched on the lights to check on the two patients – one, I guess, was in his early 90s, and the other was in his 50s. The nonagenarian was on his dry hacking coughs the whole night, trying to get rid of whatever tissue was blocking his breathing. He would shout in his sleep when he was not coughing, sounding like a mockingbird.

The 50-year-old patient had a bass or baritone voice, I don’t know the difference, but when he speaks on the phone, it is like the Tambol – that drum used in a brass band. It is so low, deep, and irritating, especially when the person hitting the drum is sitting or standing; in this case, he was on his mobile for hours. Imagine Lee Marvin whispering sweet-nothings in your ears. Lee Marvin, I would take any time. This man on the next bed called friends and discussed what to do about his garden in Spring. Breakfast was served at something past 8:00 AM. Would I want coffee or tea? Black tea, milk, and sugar, I said. I have to get black tea for you. Bread, jam, butter? A croissant. I don’t serve croissants. She gave me a slice of braised bread. With my four front teeth missing and shattered because of the fall, I cannot have Semel – that Austrian roll with a crisp and crunchy crust.

Shortly after breakfast, a Krankenträger (stretcher bearer) came to pick me up for the Dental Ambulance. I could see not too many patients, but I had to wait for hours until the dentist could see me. I saw a young mother carrying a baby carriage and an infant swaddled tightly in a cotton hammock strapped around the mother’s neck and exited the elevator. The secretary told the dentist his wife and kids were in the hall and wanted to see him. They disappeared into another room.

Meanwhile, I amused myself by listening to these two cleaning ladies babbling in Tagalog when not singing Tagalog pop songs. They ignored me. I didn’t mind. They must have been too scared to look at my face or didn’t even think I was their countryman—a zombie with four front teeth missing.

It was past lunchtime when the dentist finally had time for me. He asked for the name of my dentist. Past lunchtime, and I was totally demented. It’s alright, he said, sending me to another room for a gum x-ray where the missing teeth had been before. It was during the x-ray procedure that my dentist’s name came back to mind. I joke about dementia, but it’s happening to me quite often. Take everything with a grain of salt. It’s not good when you have an open wound in your gums.

I returned to my room, where my lunch was waiting in a tray. It was a tray of veggies straight from a box: chopped broccoli, carrots, green peas, etc. I ignored the slab of veal. The dentist advised me to avoid too much chewing, but he did not elaborate on that.

I was about to take a nap when someone entered the room and called my name. Another stretcher-bearer with a wheelchair. Time for the Augen Ambulance (Eye ambulance). This doctor, a woman, pointed on the chart on the wall if I could read the letters and numbers flashed on the whiteboard. No, I can’t. Try again. One letter or number would be fine, she insisted. The chart was blank. She turned her head to look and realized that her flashlight was defective. She called her female colleague to take over. The flashlight worked, and I read the tiniest letters and numbers – which I just guessed. Good, she told me. No problem with your sight. Then she sent me to another female colleague I thought was doing her internship until the person assisting her addressed her Frau Doktor. After a series of routine tests, I’d been cleared and was sent back to my ward, where I heard my name called before I could even get out of my wheelchair. It was the attending Head Physician of the Department. “Been looking for you since this morning and could not find you,” he said; he thought I had gone home. “I read your medical reports. I could send you home now,” he winked. The problem was that I had my money in a safe, which I could get only until 2:00 PM, and it was now 3:00 PM. I had to stay another night for nothing but to go through again a repeat performance of the last night’s torture.

“Are you Filipino? “he asked. I said yes. Where from?

“Ah, Bulacan,” he was astonished to know. His wife is from Bulacan.

“Where in Bulacan? “it was me asking this time.

“South of Manila, oh, no, North of Manila, “he corrected himself.

„Nueva Ecija?“ that was me again. How could I say that? NE is another province. He shook his head.

“San Miguel, San Ildefonso, Baliwag, Bulakan, Bocaue,” I thought I mentioned all the towns in my province. Still no!

“Malolos?” That’s it. He boasted that his wife’s father had a fishpond along Manila Bay. He mentioned the name of the girl. See you tomorrow. Bye for now.

Dinner was served at 5:00 PM. I finished the generous serving of sliced Emmentaler cheese, a piece of cottage cheese, and another kind of cheese from the Highlands of Austria. Soon came again this pair of nurses whom I suspected of taking a nap while on night duty, albeit alternately, to change the nappie of the Nanogenarian. I admired their patience with the man. Roll over, Herr Rauch, to my side. Good boy. Oh, you are full, the male nurse with a short ponytail laughed as he started changing the nappy and the bedsheets. Then you can sleep in comfort like a baby. Both nurses talked to Herr Rauch, tenderly maybe, but they had to scream on top of their voices. The man was hard of hearing.

Sadness took over me. I thought of my friend Walter, who would turn 73 come March, and my relatives in their 80s. Still strong and agile, but how much longer? How about me? I might be in my early 70s, yet the years fly by so fast. If I’m lucky to reach 90, I don’t know if it would be fun if I am disabled. This nonagenarian had lost all his dignity. It’s wurst to him, as you say in German (It does not matter to him). He cannot take care of himself. The nurses can get rid of his clothes, exposing his private parts without any resistance from the man. Sad to be senile. I began reflecting on life.

I felt doubly depressed the following day when I came back from the ward’s living room to read the papers. I returned to the room to find Herr Rauch reaching for my jute bag. I was ready to go home; thus, I took off my hospital gown and changed to my tight jeans and pullover. He might have mistaken my bed for his. I approached and told him it was my bag and tried to get it from him. He gripped the bag tightly and looked at me. Perhaps he didn’t recognize me. He would not release the bag, so I asked for help—an Asian. Very Filipino, I thought. She spoke in German but with a heavy Southern Philippine accent. He embraced Herr Rauch on the shoulders and told him the bag belonged to me. He released it at once. A few hours later, the Attending Physician did his daily rounds of his wards to check on his patients. One of the nurses barricaded Herr Racuh with the small breakfast table and chairs. He was pinned against the wall, sitting in his wheelchair, and could not move. Before I left the room, I glanced at Herr Rauch; he was still in his wheelchair, still pinned against the wall, dozing off. I thought my eyes blurred.

Your head doctor is married to a Filipina nurse and is a Bulakenya, I said in Tagalog to the Filipina nurse. She was speechless for a while, but after she recovered from the initial shock about my nationality, she said she thought I was Taiwanese! We both laughed. And yes, our Head Doctor was married to a Pinay. She used to be my neighbor. But the wife left him; I don’t know why. My left eyebrow, despite the wound, started to arch. I didn’t press for details. Wanna get juicy stories? Talk to a Filipino.

She didn’t know the doctor’s diagnosis, though. It was a brain concussion, which was not really the reason why I fainted. I can describe what happened to me as syncope,” a temporary loss of consciousness usually related to insufficient blood flow to the brain. It’s also called fainting or “passing out.” It often occurs when blood pressure is too low (hypotension), and the heart doesn’t pump enough oxygen to the brain.” Sometimes, I would be awakened from sleep, catching my breath. It could be my irregular heartbeat rhythm.