It was the first time I was sleeping in a hospital ward. It was my first time I was sleeping in a hospital - period.
I was the only person fit enough, single enough, independent enough to look after my sister overnight in a hospital. My mother has become sickly. She wouldn't do. My sister-in-law had to take care of Khristian who, of all the days of his 11-month existence, contracted fever. The men in the household wouldn't do. They couldn't be coerced to look after a patient's toilet needs. And my sister would definitely have the worst kind of seizure if we force the idea.
I never thought sleeping in a hospital ward would give me numerous insights about people.
A. Functional Literacy Doesn't Mean a Thing
Education does not guarantee breeding. Neither does it make people behave properly. Nor does it make people considerate.
We were settling my sister into bed to sleep (Remember she took Valium for that purpose. I know how Valium works. I took one a couple of years ago and I remember being asleep for 3 days. No kidding! And I remember, too, that a few seconds after I took it, I was already in Z-land.) But 15 minutes past since the nurse popped the drug into my sister's mouth and my sister was as awake as David Letterman of the Late Show.
But that was not my concern at hand. The patient next to my sister had his whole clan and all employees in his department all a visiting that time. It sounded like the whole barangay cramped itself to fit into a 1.5 x 2.5 meters bed space. They were all laughing and cracking jokes and telling stories and eating! Man, I thought we were in a stag party not in a hospital where people try to get well and live! And for awhile I thought I was right. Not to compromise my sisyer's well being, I marched to the Nurses' Station to complain. One of the nurses hurriedly followed me and went straight to the bed in question and reprimanded the hospital-party-goers that some patients need to rest and sleep so they had to keep their tone down.
For 5 minutes, the party-goers (mostly men) hushed their voices. But like a malignant desease, the itch to merrymake persisted. They went about their boisterous business for 2 hours until all guests left one by one.
I didn't bother to return to the Nurses' Station to complain the second time. Good people don't need to be reminded to be sensitive to other people's needs the second time. Heck! Good people don't need to be reminded to be considerate. Fact!
So you may ask, what kind of people are they? Oh, they had the air of the bourgeois. They sounded like call center agents - the fad these days. They had the borrowed American accent and nuances. Oh, I resent saying they seemed to have come from good universities. Functionally literate, I meant.
B. Pinoy Henyos
Obviously, we survived the first night.
The bunch of merrimakers left the next day. According to my sister-in-law who took the day watch with my sister. I went home to sleep. For awhile, I debated againts staying home and not reporting to work. But hey! I'm not superwoman! So I took the day off. Besides, I was still assigned to keep watch later that night.
A new patient was admitted in the afternoon and took the third bed from my sister's. We didn't have to guess whether the company of the new patient was as noisy as the ones they replaced because as soon as they entered the door my sister and I knew it would be another era before we could sleep. As noisy as the previous group, this flock of female seagulls (with apologies to seagulls) brought their brand of merryment. If the previous night was dominated by the bourgeoisie, tonight would be the revenge of the proletariats.
As night moved on, the noise increased - decibel upon decibel upon decibel. I always had to ask my sister if indeed we were in a hospital and had to remind myself that I am a level-headed person and it is not my style to engage in murderous acts in a hospital ward when I'm annoyed. And "annoy" is such a meek word for that.
After dinner, the band of sisters and their friends, came up with an idea. Pinoy Henyo! Culled from the 30-year old noontime show that showcases rehashed antics and corny jokes Eat Bulaga, Pinoy Henyo is a guessing game similar to Charade. But unlike Charade, Pinoy Henyo does not make use of mimes but instead applies question and answer strategies between the guesser and the guessee. A word to be guessed is stuck on the forehead of the guessee while she asks questions to the guesser whom can only answer "oo", "hindi" or "pwede." This game is fun and wacky at parties but not, for crying out loud, in a hospital ward where people could be dying!
And the girls led by a bi-girl laughed and shouted without any care in the world. They were having fun so screw you all!
Where the fcuk are the nurses??!! Couldn't they hear this insanity? Oh, they did, but could not be bothered in their tasks. We did understand that there was so much in their hands without them still acting nannies and school principals to misbehaving children. But where is justice in the world?!
And before I forget, laughter is NOT the best medicine ALL the time!
C. Ring Tones and Cellphones
If you think ring tones which aren't coming from your cellphone are irritating, place the scenario in a hospital ward.
Imagine hearing Eddie Peregrina singing halfway through "What Am I Living For?" every five minutes. In a hospital ward. Surely half of us will end up in an asylum. Good if you land in an asylum Spellbound-style where Ingrid Bergman is the doctor and Gregory Peck is your wardmate. Not One-Flew-Over-the-Cuckoo's-Nest inspired nut-hut where the head nurse is the ultimate nutcase and Jack Nicholson the dangeorus and anti-social mental hero.
Do we judge people based on how they act in the company of stangers? No, we don't judge, we just get mad. When we talk to friends about it then we judge. When we blog about it, we get even.
Why are seemingly educated people behave inconsiderately bad, as bad as those who appear their opposite? And why bad manners choose no language nor dialect, place nor time?
My take I will keep to myself. Or will be written on the next blog.
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