04/12/2025
“Dr, bila saya boleh balik rumah?” (Part 2)
“Tak sangka akhirnya dia boleh balik rumah,” kata Dr Hafizul, Pakar Paliatif, sambil menggeleng perlahan. Nadanya masih berat.
“Aku betul-betul ingat dia akan ‘pergi’ untuk selama-lamanya 7 hari lepas. Pneumothorax dia sangat teruk… tekanan darah menjunam… aku pun dah mulakan ubat penenang untuk pesakit yang sangat nazak — mida–morphine.”
Aku menelan air liur. Ingatan itu masih segar dalam kepalaku.
Waktu aku masuk ke biliknya hari itu, Puan Mei terbaring kelesuan. Nafasnya pendek, kulit pucat, dadanya naik turun laju. Mesin tekanan darah asyik berbunyi amaran.
Ketika itu, semua petanda menghala kepada satu kemungkinan — kami hampir kehilangannya.
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Babak 1 — Makan tengah hari yang senyap
Di meja makan tengah hari hospital, aku duduk bersama Dr Hafizul Pakar Paliatif dan Dr Josephine, Pakar Onkologi.
“Betul tu,” sambung Dr Josephine perlahan. “Aku pun tak sangka dia boleh survive this hospitalization. Tapi… at least sekarang aku dah boleh plan chemotherapy sebelum dia discharge.”
Kami bertiga senyap seketika.
Hanya bunyi sudu dan garfu berlaga memecah suasana.
Masing-masing tenggelam dalam fikiran sendiri, memikirkan detik-detik yang baru berlalu.
Aku menarik nafas panjang.
“Syukurlah… hari ini dia jauh lebih stabil,” kataku akhirnya. “Kita dah berjaya stabilkan pneumothorax dia dengan pneumostat — ambulatory chest drain. Kalau semua okay… mungkin 2–3 hari lagi boleh balik.”
Dr Hafizul tersenyum kecil.
“A miracle case, Nurul. Betul-betul.”
Aku angguk perlahan. Dalam hati… aku setuju sepenuhnya.
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Babak 2 — Di dalam bilik Puan Mei
Aku masuk ke biliknya. Puan Mei duduk bersandar, jauh lebih segar berbanding dua hari lalu.
Drain pneumostat yang tersangkut di sisi badannya masih utuh, terdapat tanda buih keluar di cecair dalamnya — tanda udara masih keluar dari pleural space.
“Paru-paru kiri puan semakin berkembang elok,” kataku sambil menunjukkan x-ray dada di skrin. “Drain ni membantu stabilkan pneumothorax puan. Kalau keadaan terus baik… puan boleh balik rumah dalam dua atau tiga hari.”
Aku belum sempat habiskan ayat…
“Betul ke, Dr?”
Suaranya serak. Matanya tiba-tiba berkaca.
“Oh… terima kasih, Dr… saya tak sangka saya masih boleh balik rumah…”
Tangisannya pecah perlahan.
Tangan aku digenggam erat, seolah-olah memegang harapan terakhirnya.
“Saya ingat… saya akan meninggal di hospital…”
Aku duduk di sebelahnya.
“Puan Mei… puan seorang yang sangat kuat. Saya tengok puan tak pernah putus asa. Puan rajin meditasi, sentiasa berfikiran positif… dan puan sentiasa reda dengan apa sahaja keputusan Tuhan.”
Dia mengangguk sambil tersedu.
“Saya cuma nak balik rumah… nak tengok cucu saya. Rindu suara mereka, Dr…”
“Saya tahu… dan insyaAllah puan akan dapat balik. Kami semua di sini berjuang bersama puan.”
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Babak 3 — Detik paling kritikal
7 hari sebelum itu…
Aku berlari kecil ke biliknya selepas menerima panggilan kecemasan.
“BP 70/40!”
“Nafas laju!”
“Chest pain worsening!”
Aku lihat x-ray kecemasan — pneumothorax tension yang semakin besar.
Paru-paru kirinya hampir ‘collapse’ sepenuhnya.
“Get the chest drain kit now!”
Dalam masa beberapa minit yang terasa seperti sejam, kami masukkan chest tube untuk melegakan tekanan dalam dadanya. Nafasnya perlahan-lahan lega.
Beberapa jam kemudian, dia kembali sedar…
dan memandangku sambil berbisik:
“Dr… saya penat sangat..adakah saya akan mati hari ini ?”
Aku sentuh bahunya.
“Kita masih bersama ya, puan. Teruskan perjuangan.”
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Babak 4 — Harapan itu kembali
Hari demi hari, keadaan beliau berubah.
Drain pneumostat membantu paru-parunya berkembang semula.
Tekanan darah stabil.
Oksigen berkurang dari 4 liter ke 2 liter.
Senyumnya perlahan-lahan kembali.
“Dr… saya dah boleh makan sikit hari ini.”
“Dr… saya rasa nak mandi sendiri.”
“Dr… saya rindu bau rumah saya.”
Setiap ayat itu terasa seperti hadiah.
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Babak 5 — Pesanan terakhir sebelum discharge
Hari discharge tiba.
Aku terangkan cara jaga pneumostat di rumah.
Apa tanda bahaya.
Bila perlu datang segera ke hospital.
“Dr… terima kasih kerana tak pernah putus asa pada saya,” katanya sambil menggenggam tanganku sekali lagi.
“Saya takkan lupa jasa doktor. Tuhan saja yang membalas.”
Aku senyum.
“Teruskan berjuang ya, Puan Mei. Every extra day you get… is a blessing.”
Dia angguk perlahan.
“Saya nak manfaatkan setiap hari yang Tuhan masih bagi.”
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Pengajaran dari kisah ini
1. Setiap nafas adalah nikmat. Kadang-kadang kita hanya sedar apabila ia direntap daripada kita.
2. Pesakit kanser bukan hanya perlukan rawatan — tetapi juga harapan, empati, dan kehadiran.
3. Pneumothorax pada pesakit kanser boleh sangat merbahaya, tetapi rawatan yang tepat dan cepat boleh mengubah segalanya.
4. Positif, tenang, reda dan kuat — semua itu mempengaruhi perjalanan kesembuhan seseorang.
5. Setiap hari yang Allah beri adalah masa untuk dihargai bersama keluarga.
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Klik link untuk temujanji klinik:
https://encoremed.io/smcv /154
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“Doctor, when can I go home?” (Part 2)
“I really didn’t expect she could finally go home,” said Dr Hafizul, the Palliative Care Consultant, shaking his head slowly. His voice was still heavy.
“I honestly thought she was going to ‘leave us’ for good 7 days ago. Her pneumothorax was so severe… blood pressure crash… I even started end-of-life comfort medications — midazolam and morphine.”
I swallowed hard.
The memory was still vivid.
When I entered her room that day, Puan Mei was lying weakly on the bed. Her breaths were shallow, skin pale, chest rising rapidly. The blood pressure machine kept alarming.
At that moment, every sign pointed to one possibility —
we were on the verge of losing her.
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Scene 1 — A quiet lunch
During lunch in the hospital cafeteria, I sat with Dr Hafizul and Dr Josephine, the Oncologist.
“Exactly,” Dr Josephine added gently. “I also didn’t think she would survive this admission. But… at least now I can finally plan her chemotherapy before she’s discharged.”
We fell silent.
Only the sound of cutlery filled the air.
Each of us lost in our own thoughts, replaying the critical events from days before.
I exhaled softly.
“Thank God… she’s much more stable today,” I said. “We managed to stabilise her pneumothorax with the pneumostat — the ambulatory chest drain. If all goes well… maybe she can go home in two or three days.”
Dr Hafizul gave a small smile.
“A miracle case, Nurul. Truly.”
I nodded.
In my heart… I agreed entirely.
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Scene 2 — Inside Puan Mei’s room
I entered her room again.
She was sitting up, looking far better than she did two days earlier.
The pneumostat device at her side was still bubbling softly — a sign that air was still escaping from the pleural space.
“Your left lung is expanding very well,” I explained while showing her the chest x-ray on the screen. “This device is helping stabilise your pneumothorax. If things continue improving… you can go home in two or three days.”
I didn’t even finish my sentence—
“Really, Doctor?”
Her voice cracked.
Tears instantly filled her eyes.
“Oh… thank you so much, Doctor… I never thought I could go home again…”
Her tears fell as she gripped my hand tightly — as if holding onto her last ounce of hope.
“I thought… I was going to die in this hospital…”
I sat beside her.
“Puan Mei, you are incredibly strong. You never gave up. You meditate, you stay positive… you accept every trial so gracefully.”
She nodded while sobbing softly.
“I just want to go home… to hear my grandchildren’s voices again, Doctor…”
“I know. And insyaAllah, you will. We are all fighting together with you.”
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Scene 3 — The most critical moment
Two days earlier…
I rushed to her room after receiving an emergency call.
“BP 70/40!”
“Breathing fast!”
“Chest pain worsening!”
The urgent x-ray showed a rapidly enlarging tension pneumothorax.
Her left lung was almost completely collapsed.
“Get the chest drain kit now!”
Within minutes — that felt like hours — we inserted a chest tube to relieve the pressure in her chest. Her breathing slowly eased.
A few hours later, she regained consciousness…
and whispered:
“Doctor… I’m so tired…am I going to die today ? ”
I squeezed her shoulder gently.
“We’re still here with you. Keep on fighting.”
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Scene 4 — Hope returns
Day by day, she improved.
The pneumostat helped her lung expand.
Her blood pressure stabilised.
Her oxygen requirement dropped from 4 litres to 2.
Her smile returned, little by little.
“Doctor… I can eat a bit today.”
“Doctor… I think I want to shower on my own.”
“Doctor… I miss the smell of my home.”
Every sentence felt like a gift.
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Scene 5 — Final advice before discharge
Finally, discharge day arrived.
I explained how to manage the pneumostat device at home.
What signs to watch for.
When to return immediately to hospital.
“Doctor… thank you for never giving up on me,” she said, squeezing my hand once more.
“I will never forget what you’ve done. May God reward you.”
I smiled.
“Keep fighting, Puan Mei. Every extra day you have… is a blessing.”
She nodded slowly.
“I want to cherish every day God still gives me.”
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Lessons from this story
1. Every breath is a blessing — one we often realise only when it is taken away.
2. Cancer patients need more than treatment — they need hope, empathy, presence.
3. Pneumothorax in cancer patients can be deadly, but timely and appropriate intervention can change the outcome.
4. Positivity, calmness, acceptance and inner strength matter greatly in recovery.
5. Every day given by God is an opportunity to love and be loved.
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Click for clinic appointment:
https://encoremed.io/smcv /154