SEPTEMBER 10 — “Maybe I can skip seeing the doctor today?”

The radiotherapy staff were kind and polite but told me, no ma’am, I could not skip seeing the radiotherapy doctor.

Every Monday patients would have to do a check-in with the doc but unfortunately for me, the last two Mondays were public holidays.

It had taken me three hours before I managed to get my radiotherapy session done and now I had to wait another two hours before my check-in.

That’s just how it is now as more people are turning to the public healthcare system.

Of course my life continues to furnish plot twists befitting a Spanish telenovella.

What I thought would just be a routine check-up instead became the catalyst for another week of daily visits to KL General Hospital (HKL).

My doctor frowned very hard looking at my blue file — the manila folder that every radiotherapy department had with notes and treatment regimens.

He then flipped open my oncology folder, looked at some notes I could not decipher from where I sat and said, “Wait, isn’t she supposed to get boosts?”

It seemed originally I was supposed to get at least 23 radiotherapy sessions with some of those being “boosts” — extra, targeted radiation sessions.

Yet there was no mention of said boosts in my radiotherapy files.

My doctor said that otherwise I seemed to be looking well and tolerating the treatments but he was going to check with my primary oncologist to see if I needed boosts.

The next day I thought I was lucky — I only needed to wait an hour or so for my radiotherapy to start when it usually took two hours or more.

Turns out I wasn’t going to be able to go home early after all.

Sorry, ma’am you can’t go home yet, the staff told me. 

You’re going to have additional sessions and you’re going to be marked again, they said.

After my 10 minutes with the machine I was told to go have lunch, and come back in one and a half hours to return yet again to where it all started: the radiotherapy planning room.

I was a little upset, truth be told.

Thursday was supposed to be the last day.

I’d thought I’d have a nice lunch in the city and celebrate this phase of my treatment being over.

So this time I ran away to Bray Bakery at Menara See Hoy Chan where you can get the best croissants in Klang Valley.

I ordered pastries to go and then marched back to the MRT to head back to the hospital.

Serendipitously when I alighted at the HKL stop a staffer called asking if I was done with lunch.

Told her I was just around the corner and gobbled at the honey sea salt croissant I’d gotten, one of Bray’s signatures and the first thing you should try there.

Then I spent the next hour or so having doctors and other medical personnel take pictures of my tumour site, do constant measurements (what the heck is a 10/10) and sigh internally as I got drawn on with markers again.

Besides markers I also had pieces of paper towels taped on my chest for whatever reason but I just did my best to lie there and stare at the ceiling while contemplating duck curry mee.

Then at 1pm it was over and I was handed my appointment book back, then told I would find out later if my extra boost sessions would happen immediately after I was done with my original 15 appointments.

I miss having more free time.

Instead I sleep around 10pm so I can prepare to leave the house at 7.30am to get irradiated.

Then there’s work and precious little time in-between to do important things like laundry.

Now I feel solidarity with microwaved food because I really feel like a Family Mart onigiri every day, laid on a platter and nuked while I lie still, not moving.

While I’ve read that 15 radiotherapy sessions has increasingly become the norm, in my case the doctor thinks I really could do with the additional treatments.

If HKL is offering, I’ll just take them.

While lying down behind a screen, I could hear doctors trying to persuade a makcik to take her radiotherapy sessions at the private hospital where HKL outsourced some patients.

“But I would have to go so far on my motorbike!” she implored. 

“Can’t I just do my radiotherapy here?”

They explained to her that not only would the sessions be cheaper, they had a shuttle at the hospital to ferry patients to and fro from HKL.

She would also need to wait three to four months for treatment at HKL as currently there was a huge backlog, but at the hospital they partnered with she could start as soon as next week or even that very day.

I would have loved to butt in and tell the older woman that I’d gladly trade places with her.

Instead I quietly continued lying there like a cold onigiri on a shelf, thinking about how Inside Scoop x Beryl’s Dark Chocolate Gula Melaka flavour was now my favourite chocolate ice cream.

If I sound like I’m advertising my favourite things, no, I’m not getting paid for this, I am just finding a lot of comfort in food right now especially as my tastebuds are working again.

I’m very tired at the end of each day, my feet sore and legs heavy from all the walking I do to the hospital and back.

Yet I’ve never been happier that I can walk now even if it comes at the price of pain and stiffness at the end of the day. 

Just a few months ago I couldn’t walk five minutes without needing to sit down.

I need to find time to get back on the trampoline because my hips and thighs are turning to stone again and perhaps even schedule a visit with the physiotherapist.

It’s funny how I have so little time now because I’m buying more time to fight rogue cells that have gone mad and tried to kill me.

I hope that makcik has an easy time with radiation, and I hope the government can find a way to fix the long queues caused by people just not being able to afford private hospitals or the insurance meant to pay for said private hospitals.

Meanwhile I will hobble steadily towards good health... and croissants.

* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.