On TV Medical Dramas

Ducks on Blue

I hate hospitals. They bring back bad memories. I do have good memories of the births of my nephew and niece but the bad memories seem to outweigh good ones. Strangely enough, I just can’t stop watching Grey’s Anatomy. It’s not really my most favourite TV show, but it’s up there. I know that in reality doctors don’t really have time to dedicate to a patient’s personal affairs, but in the show they do. I think that’s the reason I keep watching. Because unlike the doctors who treated my mum at the hospital prior to her death, the doctors in the show care about the patients and their families. And when a patient dies, they don’t tell the family “You did know it was coming, right?” like the doctor who declared my mum’s death did. They’d say they’re sorry and mean every words. For an hour every week, I see doctors they way I wanted the doctors who treated my mum to be. Warm and caring.

Obviously I still have issues with the circumstances surrounding my mum’s death. How we couldn’t afford to keep her in the intensive care unit. How incompetent the nurses outside the intensive care were. How I had to watch my mum stop breathing and die. How when the doctor finally showed up, it was already too late. How I had to wash my mum’s dead body before her funeral. How no one gave me a hug. The list of issues could go on and on forever, I could write a book on it. No wonder I still have nightmares and flashbacks five years later. I should’ve seen a grief counsellor but there was no such thing in Indonesia. Not that I knew of anyway. I wonder if it’s too late to see one now. Probably is.

Not a happy post, but it’s a post. Let’s see if anyone would leave any comments. 🙂

Categorised as Life


  1. I’m thinking of going to med school because I’ve grown in love with hospitals; and I think that to be a doctor, one shouldn’t separate emotional care from professional work. Both should go together. Doctors shouldn’t treat their patients with indifference; they are people after all. I have no idea how it felt like to see your mother breathe her last, but I do know that the doctor who treated her could’ve done better. Thanks for this eye-opener.

  2. Never too late for therapy. I was seeing a therapist for over 2 years talking about my mother. Thank God, insurance paid! At least half of it.

  3. It’s honestly not too late – I’m only just starting to deal with things, and in many ways still not dealing with them at all (I’m with you on the nightmares and flashbacks). In many ways, the timing was so similar for both of us that I sometimes feel you might be the only person on Earth who also understands where I am right now.
    If you’re able to find/get/afford (not sure how the system works in Canada) someone safe and neutral to talk to and get help from, do. You know she wouldn’t want you to be suffering like this and to get to the place where it’s the happy memories that win out. xxx

  4. It’s never too late. Grief doesn’t just dry up and blow away in the wind.
    Go see someone. You owe it to yourself.

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