Annex 2 The Old Block

Blessed is one who has been granted permission to go about the grounds of the hospital during an (unfortunate) season when a loved one is hospitalized upstairs. 

We had expected her to be bedded in a regular ward in the main block of the hospital.

Not here. 

So much so that we couldn't find Ward 86 on the Directory Board and upon asking the Information Lady, found out that we had to go past the A&E all the way to Annexe 2 on the old block side. 

Miss Brown had never been admitted to this side of the hospital before. 

Of course, she had never been admitted for suspected pneumonia before either- and Ward 86 (as the nurse told me) had many patients either suffering from pneumonia, or suspected of it. 

It wasn't hard for us to get to the Annexe. 

But we weren't familiar with the visitor procedures and it took us a bit of time.

It was required for us to visit Miss Brown separately, so I was alone when I stepped out of the lift onto the corridor landing of the 6th floor. 

Immediately I felt a hint of deja vu.

Like something that I had seen sometime, somewhere before. 

I couldnt place it where, or at when. 

Was it at this other (old) hospital somewhere near Bukit Merah where I had once wandered in- for a look- and peered into some of the 'heritage' corridors?

Could it have been the time when I and a few others dropped into this same hospital on a Christmas Eve night with lit candles in our hands as we sang- to the recuperating patients- the carol of Silent Night?

I might have received the same impressions when I happened to visit another (old) hospital along Upper Serangoon Road and caught a quick sight of the one-storey wards that they had over there.

Or, of course, it might even have been the time when my relative was hospitalized in this hospital for a case of bladder stones, something like that, and my family came nearly every day to visit her.

I can't exactly remember. 

Nothing triggered the memory.

Not even the walkway- with its distinctive large green tiles, rows of seats, and pointed roof shelter.

I had (quietly) hoped that seeing the wards here would help me  remember something.

But oy, this is an efficient, modern-day, up to date, full-fledged working hospital, and the wards (even in the old annexe) looked nothing like what they had once been before. 

The only hint was... here. 

The sink. 

In Miss Brown's room. 

And maybe the door, and the window.

It's so much easier to do privacy in the wards these days. 

No more will one need to carry the huge four-paneled blue-cloth dividers to provide privacy between one bed and the next. 

You just pull the curtains shut.

I couldn't get any reminders in the ward where Miss Brown was in. 

But the staircase at the end of the corridor was what made me pause.

You don't see such wide staircases anymore. 

You don't get to see banisters like these nor such spacious staircase landings anymore either. 

At least I think they're no longer built this way. 

There's something comforting about holding on to a banister as wide as the palm of my hand. 

There's also something comforting about seeing staircases built in such a sharp-angled, cubish, yet almost circular way.

One can only imagine how the nurses (in their caps and their white nightingale uniforms) would have greeted each other as they crossed paths climbing up and down these stairs. 

And the doctors. 

Did they move from ward to ward and bed to bed by themselves or in groups? 

Did they hang their stethoscopes round their necks into the pockets of their white coats as they still sometimes today do?

How was it like being a doctor or a nurse here when it was still the main building, I wonder.

Is it any different?

It has been a good number of years. 

How many patients have there been- getting admitted, getting discharged- in and out of these wards and rooms?

And how many visitors have there been- making their way up and down these stairs- to the beds of their loved ones and family? 

You know, there's usually a lot of movement in a hospital.

It's a 24/7, round-the-clock kind of place. 

Here at Annexe 2, however, there's a little bit of quiet space and sanctuary.

There aren't groups of friends and family cloistered around the seats on the corridor here. 

At least I haven't seen any.

Their absence gave the place a restful, serene feel. 

It made you think of the lives that exist, and have existed within this space. 

The purpose of these walls, these corridors, ceiling-top windows, rooms and staircases are not yet fully over.

And they still play their part in this journey of medicine, recovery, life, and living.