The colour of blood



My body is lying on a hospital bed but my spirit is somewhere else. The bed could be in the CICU or in any room, on any floor in the hospital. My unconsciousness is roaming in every direction, up and down stairways, in and out of corridors and rooms. There are numberless other wondering souls like me in this location.

Some of these phantoms have been around for a long time, perhaps at the beginning of this hospital or even earlier. Each one has a story of their own. Everyone’s life is a patchwork with a mixture of a little happiness and sorrow, some mistakes and successes, at times being brave and at other times a coward and occasionally generous, but often selfish.

Out here, there are the vary young to the old, like me. There are many even much older. It’s also a vary mix ethnical community. But what is wonderful about the spirit world is that the difference among us is not evident. In essence, we are all transparent, formless and colourless, except for the colour of our blood. All one sees is a pulsating ocean of red.

We often forget that that was the beginning of the first nine months of our own life, in our mother’s womb; in a sea of blood. At the end of one’s life, we also go back to a universe of red. This vital fluid is perhaps the binding force of our human existence.




I have been waiting in various waiting areas in the hospital for the last five weeks. Sometime I am waiting to see my mother, to look at her and to find out what condition she is in. At other times, I am lingering around, for a chance to see the doctor or surgeon, to inquire about the situation of my mother’s health, who is under their care. There are times when I am delayed by the nurses, who are attending to my mother, to finish what ever they are doing, so I could get into the room, to meet my mother.

Most of the time, I am just hanging around, in the hospital, hoping to see my mother come round the corner, in her unconsciousness. There are moments that I pause, when she moves just her eye lids, either the left eye or the right, just for a few seconds. Often it is a real pleasure to watch her move her body like a snake gliding over a surface. She would surprise me, occasionally, when she slightly pulls up both her legs or moves her shoulder and arms.

The best thing about all the waiting is when she opens (for a brief moment) both her eyes wide, moves her lips and also moves her head to one side. I would then quickly call her name (a bit louder) and tell her that I am by her side, waiting for her to wake up. Her reply to my calls is always a blank stare and silence. Perhaps I am hoping for a simple answer from her, such as, to tell me that she is well or she is in pain and could I get some help for her pains and discomforts. But her silence may be an indication that her situation is not easy to resolve, medically and emotionally, and that perhaps there are just no remedies or answers.




After my coronary surgery, I have been in a coma. It has been 34 days and my consciousness seemed not in a hurry to either get back into or come out of my body. This is the secretive side of the human body – the spirit. In medical terms, there are many possible reasons for my condition. It could have been the effects of the anesthetic drugs, the antibiotics, the risk of surgery, my age etc… .

On top of it, my kidney and my liver are both a bit dizzy. So I have been on and off the kidney and liver dialysis machines, in the last five weeks. To add to it, I had a rush of gastric bleeding, in the middle of all this. It may also have led to some bleeding in my brain. My heart beat and blood pressure are erratic and I am supported by a ventilator system.

My body has no tolerance of any excess of any type of drugs at the moment. I am what they called ‘vary fragile’. It means that I am in a muddled state medically and physically and is giddy too. In another words, I am in a critical condition, in the CICU and I have become just numbers, graphs, and clinical chemical statistics. Surely, this is not all that there is to a human being? Are there no instruments that can weight up the human spirit, soul or consciousness?