The Price of Healthcare

Written by Yvonne Foong

Thursday, 19 July 2007

I was overjoyed when Dr. Friedman offered to remove my brain tumour for free. The phone call from the U.S. was brief, but he spoke with such confidence, I knew his offer would come true.

After weeks of planning, visa application, and paperwork, I made my way to Los Angeles three months later. The trip across the ocean proved refreshing. It was my first time travelling alone to a foreign country. What’s more? I went there to see someone who could entirely remove the tumour with confidence.

But the trip was not without glitches. Due to some misunderstanding, the hospital did not expect me turning up so early. There were more documents to settle, and a surgery date had to be scheduled beforehand. With my limited experience with healthcare in Malaysia, I did not expect the U.S. to be different.

Since I caught the hospital unprepared, I had to put up at the hotel for two nights. My aunt who paid the cost was not pleased. She gave me an earful, after harassing the hospital president and raised her voice at Dr. Friedman’s secretary.

It left me traumatised. My aunt convinced me that Dr. Friedman was angry and said I was ungrateful. I cried a bucketful of tears and beat myself up. When I met Dr. Friedman at House Clinic the following day, I bowed my head low, thinking the worst would happen, just as what my aunt claimed.

After a short while waiting, the voice of a bright and confident man beamed from outside. Moments later, Dr. Friedman stepped in and introduced himself. “Wow! Your aunt was aggressive!”. That was all he said concerning my mistake. He ran through the surgery details and what he planned to do. Next, he picked up the phone and called the operation theatre, requesting for a slot on Monday, after explaining the unforeseen circumstances.

Before he left, Dr. Friedman pat me on the shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.”

I will never forget that scene. His assuring tone brought me close to tears, a total contrary to my aunt’s words.

Two years later, Dr. Friedman removed another tumour from me. This time, he de-bulked a skull-base tumour, in addition to the original procedure. “It’s called the Jugular Foramen Meningioma,” he explained. “Don’t worry. I will take care of you.”

Dr. Friedman does not charge me regular consultation fees, and I can e-mail him anytime.

Many don’t understand when I insist on having some tumours removed abroad. They think of it as a far-fetched luxury. But I did not arrive here easy. The years suffering at a government hospital bruised my heart. Some protested, saying there are good doctors. But little is made known about the place, run by a system so restricting, that I only saw my surgeon a month after every surgery. Without communication, the relationship between doctor and patient is non-existent. Other problems contribute to make the hospital a hellish place, but the root of all lies in weak relationships.

When my friend, Pei Lee, could not certainly tell me what was wrong with her spine, I knew she was left in the dark. With a new doctor seeing her each time, Pei Lee could not be sure of the situation. It reminded me of fear and uncertainty. My first instinct was to rescue Pei Lee from hell.

But to say that only government hospitals mistreat their patients would be an understatement. Even some in private practice neglect the duty of care. Last Wednesday, I raised some funds and brought Pei Lee to a private hospital. Upon hearing about her medical history, the doctor abruptly told her to go back to the government, explaining that his fees were expensive.

The doctor refused to run a simple test such as asking Pei Lee to walk in a straight line, or examine her in any way. I said she could not get her files from the hospital, and might need a new MRI, but the doctor cited the high cost again.

We decided to seek treatment elsewhere. On our way out, I told Pei Lee, “Don’t let that doctor intimidate you. He does not represent the whole medical profession!”.

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Yvonne Foong is a freelance writer and blogger. Her writings can be found at her website ‘Fight for Tomorrow, or it May Never Come’. (http://www.yvonnefoong.com/ )