The time when I decided to write my thoughts

Early March 2020, COVID-19 was looming, baring its fangs at Mainland China, claiming lives at the rate of hundreds a day. Despite the disaster abroad, it was a peaceful time in Malaysia. 1 month has passed since we, the Malaysian Chinese, celebrated our Lunar New Year Festival.   

I received the news of my grandfather, who I loved and treasured my whole life, has died.

The funeral service was uneventful, with unspoken resentments between our families. However, I couldn’t help but contemplate the influence my late grandfather has on our family, and how his priorities that time shaped us into what we are. He deserves to be remembered by the people, because his life, although full of conflicts and tragedies, carries a very valuable lesson that I think should be learned by everyone.

Just after a few days of his funeral, COVID-19 invaded my beloved Malaysia, causing a nationwide panic. In reaction to the pandemic threat, my employers decided to lock down the whole of  Malaysia, started the Movement Restriction Order.

The whole nation was put under a halt. Shops were closed, intercity traveling was forbidden, and a curfew was enforced. No one was allowed to have gatherings. Everyone stayed at home, worried about their loved ones who were stranded far away, out of their reach.  

Amidst the chaos, one group of people were still allowed full access to their workplace. We called them the ‘frontliners’: Doctors, nurses, polices, soldiers, pharmacies, cleaners- who never rest battling the pandemic, to maintain control of the chaos, to protect their beloved country from the unseen invader.

I was doing my postgraduate psychiatry training at Seremban. After my training was completed, I was summoned back to my original post in Kuantan, Pahang. Within a week, I was called to support our emergency department for 2 weeks, when it was contaminated, causing half of its staff to be quarantined.

It was a scary time for my mother, who is a germaphobe, but not for me though. I was just glad that they did not leave me to dry.

Just days after the ordeal, I was again summoned to be transferred to the main ward building, to work under the newly founded- COVID ward team. It was an eye-opener: My 8-storey-high main hospital building has been fully transformed into a quarantine zone. The number of infected patients in ward amounted to the hundreds, causing other departments to have to move their wards elsewhere, even some have to be shut down.    

I turned from a psychiatrist trainee into a multidisciplinary doctor. I relearn the important things I have forgotten, and I enjoyed being in the center of it all, to provide comfort and laughter to my patients.

Hearing a patient I stayed up all night resuscitating, who got well days later, saying in a frail voice smiling to me:

“Thank you.”

It was a feeling long forgotten. That moment, I realised, that I must be a man of my words, to keep the promise made at my grandpa’s funeral.

I said that I will remember his smile, and use it to bring happiness and laughter to my loved ones, and my patients.

So, after my hectic days in the COVID ward, I finally got time to plan how would I make a tribute to my beloved grandpa, who inspired me to continue saving lives. I pulled out my laptop and started typing my first book.