每一個夜深人靜的無眠之夜，總是想起過去的自己那些信誓旦旦的言論，想要長大、想要變好、想要逃離既有的圈套。然而到頭來，長大就好像是另一個牢籠，把工作與生活壓得扁扁的，彼此密不可分，又難以區隔。究竟，我們為了什麼努力？為了什麼向前呢？

「你能想像停下工作，放下家人，好好生活嗎？」他被這問題弄得措手不及，直覺地說：「我會覺得自己沒有價值了」。

你的價值，究竟透過什麼來定義？

【同學投稿】《深夜cert case的二三事》

午夜時分，電話響起。
「你好，medical houseman。」
「要麻煩你certify個COVID positive case，屋企人係隔離啊。」

到隔離病房後，我在護士站裡粗略看了一下病人的病歷。
「唔係話屋企人黎左咩？我頭先係出面見唔到有人喔。」
「佢老婆同個仔都positive，而家係同一個cubicle裡面啊。」

我穿起保護裝束，走進隔離病房。
「你好，我係今晚當值醫生，而家要同伯伯做啲檢查。」
「醫生係咪黎certify我爸爸啊？」
「要做埋檢查先話得到你知，或者先生可以同媽媽睇住電視先，我做完檢查仔同你傾好冇？」

於是我硬着頭皮，第一次在家屬的注目下為病人進行檢查。（註：一般來說，certify case前，醫生會請家屬到病房外等候，待完成檢查後再與家屬交待。）
「伯伯，而家同你做少少檢查啦。」

進行檢查的同時，病人的兒子低聲安慰坐在輪椅上的媽媽。
「阿媽你要堅強啲啊，阿爸走左我得番你架咋，要堅強啲啊知唔知到啊⋯⋯」

完成檢查後，我移步到家人跟前。
「啱啱完成檢查，證實做伯伯已經走左，死亡時間係⋯⋯。其實伯伯本身都年紀大，加上原本肺功能差，之前主診醫生都有同你地傾過，如果插喉嘅話，伯伯會辛苦之餘，對佢都未必有幫助。你地自己屋企人傾過之後，都想伯伯可以舒服啲。我諗伯伯有兩位陪住，都算走得安詳。之後伯伯遺體嘅安排會有護士同你地交代，希望先生同太太節哀順變。」
「唔該醫生。多謝你啊。」

我想該說謝謝的是我。謝謝這位兒子兼病人在悲痛之時，仍能理解父親去世並非醫護不努力，仍能堅強地安撫和鼓勵一同患病的媽媽，仍保持對醫護的尊重和支持。

大家常云要支持醫護，現實卻是：當血庫告急社會賢達卻無動於衷（可詳閱前六）、當疫情擴散防疫政策卻朝令夕改、當醫護壓力爆煲有關當局卻宣佈凍薪⋯⋯

到頭來還是不及病人的一句「多謝醫生」來得合時。是該哭還是該笑呢？

Around midnight, my dect phone rang.
“Hello, medical houseman.”
“Hi, there’s a COVID positive case needs you to certify him. His family are here as well.”

When I arrived at the isolation ward, I took a brief look through his medical history at the nursing station.
“Didn’t you say his family were here? I didn’t anyone out there in the lobby.”
“Oh. Both his wife and his son are positive for COVID as well. So they’re now staying in the same cubicle.”

I put on my full PPE and went into the cubicle. For the first time ever, I certified a patient in front of his family. (Usually in our daily practice, we ask family members to wait at the corridor while the doctor is doing the physical examination for the patient.)
“Good evening, Sir. I’m tonight’s on call doctor. I’ll examine your father in a minute. Meanwhile, may I ask for your help to accompany your mother while I’m doing the examinations.”

The son was gently comforting his wheelchair-bound mother while I was certifying the father.
“Mom, please stay strong. Now that dad’s passed away, I’ve only got you with me, so please hold on.”

It was hard not to tear up listening to his soft but desperate words. And after performing all the necessary examinations, I approached the son and the wife.
“I’m sorry to notify you that Mr X was certified at ...... His premorbid conditions weren’t that great, and now COVID has taken its toll on him. Previously, the case doctor had discussed with you that intubation wasn’t our first option, in view of his advanced age and poor premorbid lung functions. And the rest of the family also agreed that comfort care was a better option. I believed that Mr X has had his last hours well spent with you and Mrs X on his sides. The nurse will help you with the upcoming arrangements. I’m really sorry for your loss and all that your family has gone through.”

The son replied in the most sincere tone, “Thank you doctor. Thank you for being here.”

In fact, I think it’s me who should say thank you to this gentleman. Thank you for believing in our efforts, despite we’ve lost our patient. Thank you for comforting his mother, despite he too had just lost his father. Thank you for being supportive, despite he too was a patient.

How ironic it is when government propaganda stressed so much on supporting medical staff, few supportive acts has been done. When our blood banks were in such great shortage that not even patients with a platelet count of 1 could be transfused, none of those in power cared to encourage blood donations. When the the third wave of COVID epidemic was taking away lives, the government policies were slow and confusing, not to mention effective. When medical staffs were on the verge of breakdown, the government just announced a pay freeze.

In the very end, nothing was more supportive than a sincere “thank you” from the already suffering patients. And I’m not sure if this is really something to be thankful for.