Selfie funtime Series 4---There's Something About a Black and White Dress

There's something in a black and white dress with big prints ...

 and a white hat ????

I must have eaten too much Black Forest Cakes (hahaha!)

I Am Called as a Christian to Minister..

My agenda was to walk from Blacktown railway station to the hospital. However just as I was getting off the train, I saw my adopted parents. That is, not having my own parents now to pray for since their death in 2010s, and having known both the old couple's  medical conditions  having been their interpreter for a number of their medical appointments, I have been praying for them.

 Inang M exclaimed, "So are you the one?" I said laughing a bit, Yes, Ï--I--I-- am the one ( saying this in a singsong which I believe made a Westerner who was listening to me talk at one time to someone asked which language I was speaking and eventually commented my native tongue was a beautiful language!)

The last few times the old couple had their medical appointments, I was not their interpreter, but my sister Daisy, instead, who told me seriously or maybe jokingly, that they now like her more than me (lol!).

After I said I would be their interpreter this time, Inang M immediately said that we---Tatang T, herself and I could all take the bus together to the hospital. I replied I was walking to the hospital and explained walking would lower my blood sugar level. I added too that we all must have missed, anyway,  the early bus to the hospital and since buses comes every hour it would be a long wait.

Inang M suggested then I could go by the taxi with them. I reiterated I really wanted to walk. Tatang T. reprimanded his wife and said, "She already told you she wanted to walk."

Thinking it might cost them heaps to take the taxi, ie recalling it cost me $36 to go from my house to Blacktown Hospital at one stage, I glanced at my watch and told them, they might be able to catch the bus if they were going to catch it from the railway station, instead of going all the way to the Bus Interchange at Westpoint. I also told them I would walk them to the particular bus stand.

When we got to bus stand 7, Inang M persuaded me even strongly to go with them in the bus. She said she was wondering if Regional Dialysis Centre is in the newly constructed building on the hospital grounds.

Having heard this and thinking they might not find their way to the Centre, just like  that Sri-Lankan couple whom I came across during one of my assignments and who told me they had been walking around in circles in the hospital grounds and still couldn't find their way, I told her finally I would go with them in the bus.

I could still recall how tired and exasperated the elderly Sri Lankan couple then looking for the Diabetic Education Centre in spite of having asked for directions from several people. Thinking I might not give or say to them the right directions, I walked the old people to the Centre for which they could not stop thanking me. I  could not stop thanking God, too-- I was of help to this old people---thinking in retrospect it would surely break my heart if the same thing happen to my own parents.

I took my adopted parents to the Regional Dialysis Centre and sat them in the waiting room. I told them I would come back after an hour as that was my booking assignment.

I walked to the Main Entrance of the hospital deliberating in my head whether I was going to do pastoral visits as I still had an hour before my work.

First things first, though, having had breakfast five hours ago and knowing I was due to have my morning tea before my blood sugar level drops, I walked to the Staff Dining Area . As I was savouring my bland home made pan bread to which I spread Nutella, anyway, I was asking God if I should do pastoral visits. My other agenda then, after taking that walk to the hospital, was to go to the library, not to read medical books but to read the book Germany I brought with me and was due to be renewed.

It was not in my agenda to do pastoral visits today so I did not pray for this last night. As a broken record I am oftentimes, I kept on asking God about this as I was having morning tea.

Having done pastoral visits in the past before I became busy with interpreting assignments in other places, I equipped myself with the conviction and confidence coming from God ---and most particularly with prayers. In my experience, it is not that easy to pick, walk and talk with patients who obviously are not well and maybe undergoing tremendous trauma, stress and sickness in their physical or mental states. Well, I told to myself I was like 98.99% well (ie not coughing much anymore), so I could definitely visit patients. Also, so I would not be challenged or struggle so much, I could go through the list of the patients in the hospital and just visit patients from my own religion. As I always make it a habit to make use of my time wisely, profitably and hopefully pleasing to God, I said a little prayer and told myself finally,  I would do pastoral visits.

I came across in the list of Seventh Day Adventists patients a name of a patient who is a member of the SDA church my Mum and I are members. I eased myself and said "Ah, there you go, you won't have to struggle much. After all, this old woman is not only someone you know but someone you always talked to, joked with and prayed with ( and sometimes even sat with) heaps of times. Well, I have had some challenging visits where the relatives of the patients were kind of calculating and sort of examining, if not scrutinising me. And this really made me feel uncomfortable, somewhat scared that sometimes I felt like ....hmmm...I wanted to just say goodbye if not evaporate in the air, even if I had not gone far, supposed to be, in ministering to them. These were the times I really did not care much who were in the lists and just visited patients at random, thinking to myself it does not really matter whether they are Baptists, Methodists, Catholics, Muslims or atheists.

When I got to the Ward B45 and went to the bed of my dear old church mate, I saw that there were some Health Care Providers (HCP) attending to her. So I visited other patients in the ward. I spoke briefly to two patients who were not so responsive-- because one does not speak English much and the second one was so emotional that she would not want to talk as of yet. So I walked along the corridor of the ward eyeing as the Spirit led, which patient I was going to visit. I finally spotted a man whom I'd placed to be in his early 70s. After I got his consent for the visit, I learned he was from Poland. We had a pretty good twelve minute-chat until a HCP came, which was a signal of course that I had to go.

I went back to visit my dear old church mate. As she was in an infection control area, I put on a pair of gloves, a gown and a mask. I was most eager to see her because since I came back to church after my mother passed away, I have not really seen her except for her name as listed among the members who need prayers. Just as I was ready to go in, a group of HCP headed by apparently by a Consultant, was approaching to go in her room. Oops! Not again!

So I took off all my infection control attire and threw them all in the bin and proceeded to my favourite Ward B35 to do more visits. My favourite receptionist from whom I always asked permission for pastoral visits was not around. Hmm.., maybe she was also on holidays. So I jsut spoke to anyone who was at the reception area.

I sanitised my hands as usual and off I walked through the corridor of the ward hunting for another patient to visit. I saw a woman whom I would similarly placed to be in her early or mid 70s and whom I learned later was Polish. Ah, Ï said to myself it is Poland Day for me. That's great! Having just visited a Polish patient who was gentle and soft spoken, the nocturne in E flat Major in my head was suddenly now overshadowed by the introductory piano bangs of Polanaise in A Major. Why, because as soon as I walked in the ward, with her wide opened and staring eyes, she told me she was cold and asked me to get her boiling water. I asked a nurse that just passed by to give this patient more blankets to which the nurse responded promptly coming back with a blanket to wrap around this patient seated on the chair. The patient asked the nurse to give her boiling water to which she also responded promptly.

I got the consent from the patient for a chat and just as she was about to sip the boiling water I emphatically told her not yet---as I know, the water was truly boiling hot and told her to wait till it cooled down a bit.

Our talk revolved around her country and Chopin. She herself used to play the piano and she told me her son at the age of 7 won a piano competition. I said WoW. As we talked however, I was really getting anxious she might scald herself as she kept on pushing in and out her bedside table, and so I kept on putting away a bit further the cup of boiling water.

Even if I was not glancing at my watch I knew I would have to go soon to go back to the Regional Dialysis Centre to work. I was saved by her Physiotherapist and told the patient I would have to go. Having said this, she held out her two hands to me which I held with my two hands, too. She squeezed my hands hard and asked me, "You'll come back again?" I said ÿes

As I sanitized my hand before walking out of the ward my spirit sank. I knew in my heart of hearts, I was not 100% sure of being able to come back. I asked God for forgiveness and said a prayer for all the patients I visited today.