Miss Brown knew exactly which doctor it was she was going to see the moment the ambulance trundled up the long driveway of the hospital. In all of her life in this country she had only stayed in three hospitals- the Maternity Hospital at Thomson Road, the General Hospital at Outram, and this hospital at Buangkok.
A stay at the hospital is no staycation- no one comes to the hospital unless they really have to- that is, they have no choice- and so it was for Miss Brown as well.
She honestly didn't know what she'd done that the doctor determined that she should have a stay here. Could it be that she hadn't felt like washing her hair or even taking a shower for days? Could it be that she just wanted to feel dirty and uncared for because nothing mattered anymore? Could it be that she just wanted to do something- anything- that would let her succeed in her goal to bring the girl back? And could it be that her caregivers had thwarted her attempt to disappear and instead decided that she was better off here?
She wasn't planning to run away- that was ridiculous- she was intending to run to the person who had promised to look after her and be by her side. It was not possible what others had told her- that the girl didn't want her anymore, and had never wanted her at all- she had to find out by herself.
But her caregivers had found the name cards of strangers in her bag, and they had found the chocolate she had taken from the freezer- and they seemed to know what it was she was planning to do.
So she ended up here.
It wasn't that bad a place as she had imagined.
The room was open. There was plenty of wind and sunshine coming through the open windows- they only shut them a little at night- and there were the sounds of nature coming in from the tiny little garden outside. Few people knew this but naturally planted grass and wild growing weeds do have a sound of their own- it only gets more pronounced when the winds come.
The beds were close to one another- she could see her neighbors on either side- but she had no belongings. They had taken her bag with the precious name cards away from her and handed it back to her caregivers. None of the others seemed to have their belongings with them either.
Here she couldn't wear her own clothes, but that didn't matter. She could slip easily into the shirt and shorts that they gave her. It was bright colored and pink anyway.
There were activities, but she didn't participate very much in them. She tried, doing one thing or another, but she got bored, simply because she didn't think she belonged to the same capacity as the others who were here. Some of them looked strange. Mild-mannered they were, yes, but they didn't look like the people she saw outside. But since they didn't bother her, she kept to herself and didn't care either.
She preferred sitting out near the windows watching the others do their activities. Here she felt closer to the world outside and she had always liked grass and sun and plants. It got better when it rained. The place reminded her of Kelantan where she had once lived as a little girl a long, long time ago.
Most of her days were spent doing the daily stuff- bathing, eating, going to the toilet, watching others, eating, sleeping.
On certain days some people came to talk to her. One came from the hospital and asked her a lot of questions, which she could only partially answer. Another asked her other questions out of which she now no longer remembers what they were. These people she saw them just once, or twice. They meant nothing to her. Then there was this lady from some place who came and spoke to her and sang some songs with her and prayed over her. But she too only came once.
The doctor, however, she remembered. Not the doctor who made the rounds- this doctor she didn't know and didn't care for- but the other doctor.
This was the same doctor she still came to see, and whom she knew she was going to see today. This doctor always spoke kindly to her, even if firmly, and gave her plenty of advice of what to do and what not to do and didn't let her caregivers overthink or worry too much. This was the doctor whom she'd first seen when she first came here. She had been a little harsh then, but she wasn't after.
Miss Brown liked coming to this clinic to see this doctor.
There was Milo if she wanted.
There were bananas for the taking- her caregiver smuggled out one or two for sometimes.
And even though she didn't think so much of the room called Sunshine somewhere in the far reaches of this hospital, on the times when her caregivers wheeled her around to the canteen and asked her if she wanted a bite, she would see the corridors, the trees, the grass and the space.
And then the memory of the shuttered windows, the heavy rains, the smell of the grass after the rains, the cold winds and the music of the quietly whistling plants would come back to her.
A stay at the hospital is no staycation- no one comes to the hospital unless they really have to- that is, they have no choice- and so it was for Miss Brown as well.
She honestly didn't know what she'd done that the doctor determined that she should have a stay here. Could it be that she hadn't felt like washing her hair or even taking a shower for days? Could it be that she just wanted to feel dirty and uncared for because nothing mattered anymore? Could it be that she just wanted to do something- anything- that would let her succeed in her goal to bring the girl back? And could it be that her caregivers had thwarted her attempt to disappear and instead decided that she was better off here?
She wasn't planning to run away- that was ridiculous- she was intending to run to the person who had promised to look after her and be by her side. It was not possible what others had told her- that the girl didn't want her anymore, and had never wanted her at all- she had to find out by herself.
But her caregivers had found the name cards of strangers in her bag, and they had found the chocolate she had taken from the freezer- and they seemed to know what it was she was planning to do.
So she ended up here.
It wasn't that bad a place as she had imagined.
The room was open. There was plenty of wind and sunshine coming through the open windows- they only shut them a little at night- and there were the sounds of nature coming in from the tiny little garden outside. Few people knew this but naturally planted grass and wild growing weeds do have a sound of their own- it only gets more pronounced when the winds come.
The beds were close to one another- she could see her neighbors on either side- but she had no belongings. They had taken her bag with the precious name cards away from her and handed it back to her caregivers. None of the others seemed to have their belongings with them either.
Here she couldn't wear her own clothes, but that didn't matter. She could slip easily into the shirt and shorts that they gave her. It was bright colored and pink anyway.
There were activities, but she didn't participate very much in them. She tried, doing one thing or another, but she got bored, simply because she didn't think she belonged to the same capacity as the others who were here. Some of them looked strange. Mild-mannered they were, yes, but they didn't look like the people she saw outside. But since they didn't bother her, she kept to herself and didn't care either.
She preferred sitting out near the windows watching the others do their activities. Here she felt closer to the world outside and she had always liked grass and sun and plants. It got better when it rained. The place reminded her of Kelantan where she had once lived as a little girl a long, long time ago.
Most of her days were spent doing the daily stuff- bathing, eating, going to the toilet, watching others, eating, sleeping.
On certain days some people came to talk to her. One came from the hospital and asked her a lot of questions, which she could only partially answer. Another asked her other questions out of which she now no longer remembers what they were. These people she saw them just once, or twice. They meant nothing to her. Then there was this lady from some place who came and spoke to her and sang some songs with her and prayed over her. But she too only came once.
The doctor, however, she remembered. Not the doctor who made the rounds- this doctor she didn't know and didn't care for- but the other doctor.
This was the same doctor she still came to see, and whom she knew she was going to see today. This doctor always spoke kindly to her, even if firmly, and gave her plenty of advice of what to do and what not to do and didn't let her caregivers overthink or worry too much. This was the doctor whom she'd first seen when she first came here. She had been a little harsh then, but she wasn't after.
Miss Brown liked coming to this clinic to see this doctor.
There was Milo if she wanted.
There were bananas for the taking- her caregiver smuggled out one or two for sometimes.
And even though she didn't think so much of the room called Sunshine somewhere in the far reaches of this hospital, on the times when her caregivers wheeled her around to the canteen and asked her if she wanted a bite, she would see the corridors, the trees, the grass and the space.
And then the memory of the shuttered windows, the heavy rains, the smell of the grass after the rains, the cold winds and the music of the quietly whistling plants would come back to her.