It’s like opening the window to a changing society and allows me to catch a glimpse of Singaporeans’ pain and stoicism, as well as family ties, ethnic bonds and human care.

Recently, I spent three days at the Singapore General Hospital for a colonoscopy and treatment for a colon infection, and the experience was no difference.

(For the uninitiated Malaysian, the SGH is the largest hospital here where, sooner or later, every Singaporean or a friend or relative – and quite a few foreigners, too – will spend time in.)

As I lay on my bed in ‘C’ ward, I had another opportunity to watch, in-between my antibiotic drips, some of my fellow patients and the scores of visitors who came to see them.

When you’re staring at the ceiling for most of the day, you have a lot of time to watch, listen and reflect about the ordinary folks around you.

As with scores of previous stays, I have accumulated an impression about the changes in our society.

The family

Firstly, despite rising concerns about broken homes, the Singapore family looks pretty healthy. Some four out of five patients received daily visits by families and relatives, including young children.

In my view, top marks for family ties go to the Malay community.

Almost every elderly person whom I shared a ward with had streams of young and old respectful visitors, who would kiss their hands. In a few cases, the visitors had to take turns to come in.

I have seen family members sitting for hours around the patient. They range from headscarf-covered women to teenagers wearing jeans and large earrings, but sharing a common trait, a seemingly deep reverence for the patient, be it their father or grandfather.

Next would be elderly dialect-speaking heartlanders, who also appear to be well respected by their better-educated children.

Once I was warded next to a man who was – unbelievably – a historical figure, a “coolie” at Boat Quay during Singapore’s early days. Now in his 80s with a frail heart, he was in for a tooth extraction, a complicated procedure under the circumstances.

I learned of his awesome rags-to-success life that spanned 60 years. He had sent to colleges and universities seven children and a crop of grandchildren that counted, among others, two doctors, three engineers and a lawyer.

Some of the hospital doctors now attending to him were his grandson’s university mates. Needless to say, this gentleman, who spoke not a word of English or Mandarin, was given VIP treatment by the hospital staff.

There were exceptions, of course – lonely patients who had no visitors. These are old singles who live by themselves, or are shunned because they have ill-treated their wives and children.

Patient profile

My second observation: affluence and high costs are changing the profile of patients.

I noticed an increasing number of foreign maids sitting by the bedside of elderly women patients to tend to their needs. This is 21st century luxury for the common citizen.

In fact, the maid has become part of the hospital landscape, whether in the wards or at outpatient clinics, diagnostic labs or pharmacy. They are employed by children to help their sick parents.

“These maids are probably the most experienced civilians in handling hospital procedures, where to go to get what,” quipped a staff member. Reason for this 21st century feature: an average annual growth rate of 8% over the past four decades.

With this good also comes the bad. High standards have resulted in a meteoric rise in medical costs in the past 20 years in Singapore, where “subsidy” is frowned upon.

The relentless rise of charges has formed a common class between the poor and middle class. In the past, the cheaper “C” wards (six beds, ceiling fans, no TV) were where the blue-collar and the poorer patients checked in.

Those on company or insurance coverage used “B” class, and the rich booked into the expensive “A” rooms.

Today, we see not taxi-drivers and hawkers in the “C” wards, but also more and more of the better-off professionals and businessmen, who are paying the costs themselves.

The man on your right may be an engineer or a shop-owner while a collector of discarded bottles may be to your left. The system has become a great social leveller.

There’s an offsetting factor to high costs, though. The service provided by doctors and nurses is purposeful and excellent, and things generally ticked.

The hospital is, of course, about human pain and stoicism. I shared a ward with a taxi-driver who had survived a two-month battle with death.

A cement-mixing truck hit his car, sending him to hospital unconscious with serious injuries to his right face and lungs.

“My right eye could not close; it was very painful with the slightest breeze,” he said. “I taped a paper to protect it.”

Another, a heart transplant patient, walked around with a bag on his side to collect fluid which leaked from his valve. Weird, but he seemed normal.

Hospital patients also gave me the first inkling that some of Singapore’s elderly were retiring in cheaper neighbouring countries.

“Singapore is the most expensive place to retire in,” said a hawker who is preparing to join his brother in Pattaya with his wife. “We’ll start a video film rental business.”

And the children?

“They’ll remain here. Salaries are higher,” he said.

o Seah Chiang Nee is a veteran journalist and editor of the information website littlespeck.com

                                                      Home