It’s been two weeks since I started here, and surprisingly I’m beginning to like it. There’s something about Toa Payoh Hospital that feels… less rigid. Less intimidating. The staff are warmer, less uptight than the ones at SGH. There’s laughter in the corridors, casual chats during breaks, and no one looks at you like you’re just another student to boss around.
But despite settling in here, I can’t shake the worry pressing at the back of my mind. My mother. I went home three days ago. She called me into the kitchen when I arrived not to complain or nag or ask about laundry but quietly, almost shyly, she showed me the redness over her left breast.
Her eyes didn’t meet mine. She just said, “It’s nothing, I think.” But I knew better. Something in her voice hesitant, unnatural made me pause. I told her we had to go see a doctor. She refused, of course. Stubborn as always.
“Later, lah,” she said. “I don’t want to trouble anyone.”
It was only when I promised really promised that I would go with her, that she relented. The polyclinic is just a few blocks away from our flat. Not too crowded that day. The doctor saw the redness and immediately asked to do a physical exam.
He didn't take long. His expression shifted halfway through, and when he was done, he motioned for me to step aside.
“It’s a lump,” he said. A lump. I stared at him. “What’s a lump?” I asked, honestly. The word sounded innocent small, even but his tone said otherwise.He looked at me, surprised.
“You’re a nurse in training, aren’t you? Time you learned about these things.” He explained everything how it might be benign, how it might not. He didn’t sugarcoat it. Then he handed me a referral letter.
“You need to bring her to SGH. Immediately,” he said. His voice was firm, final.The nurse at the polyclinic helped us get an appointment at the General Surgery clinic. It’s tomorrow. 12 p.m.
I’ve already planned my day. Afternoon duty tomorrow. Will head to the polyclinic in the morning with her and younger brother then back to hostel and duty. I don’t want her to go alone.
A letter arrived from Shah Alam today. It was from him. He wrote that he’s settling in well, adjusting to his new life. I smiled as I read that he got into ITM [ Institute Teknologi MARA ] and will be taking accountancy. It’s what he wanted. Not so much the subject, but the chance the chance to study, to continue, to not be left behind.He said it himself: “I don’t really care where I go, as long as I get to study.” That sounds like him. His younger siblings are doing well too.
Both are thriving in public school and this part made me pause both emerged as top students. All thanks, he wrote, to the Singapore education system. That sentence stayed with me.
Not because it was praise, but because of how unexpected it felt coming from him.Apparently, they had some struggles at first especially with Bahasa. Not surprising. Even in Malaysia, Bahasa Baku isn’t exactly how people speak at home. But they adapted, found their rhythm.
His younger brother, he said, is brilliant at Maths and Science scoring at the top of his class — but failing badly in Bahasa Melayu. I could almost hear the frustration in his tone, though he tried to keep it light.
He also mentioned that he’s staying in the hostel sharing with four other boys from up north: Penang, Terengganu, Kedah. They speak the loghat Utara thick, musical Northern Malay, laced with dialect and local flair. He admitted he had trouble understanding them at first.
I’m not surprised.I remember Hari Raya years ago, when one of my father’s long-lost relatives from Terengganu came over. I couldn’t understand a single word he said. It was like listening to water speak flowing and fast, but completely foreign. One of the younger guys maybe around my age tried his best to talk to me that day.
He struggled, paused, tried again. Eventually, he gave up. I think I upset him. I kept slipping into English, out of habit. Out of survival. He must’ve thought I was proud, or arrogant, or both. But honestly, I just couldn’t find the words in Malay to match what I wanted to say. It’s strange, isn’t it?
Born Malay, raised in Singapore but sometimes it feels like I exist somewhere in-between. Talking about my roommate... I wonder what happened to her. I haven’t seen her since dinner. She was with us earlier quiet as usual, nodded when we spoke, ate without fuss and then she excused herself. Said she had some notes to read. I watched her take the lift upstairs.
After that, nothing. She’s been doing this disappearing act quite often, come to think of it.Last week, I woke up in the middle of the night couldn’t sleep. I got up to get a drink and saw her quietly coming in. The clock on the wall said 1:52 a.m. She had a blanket with her. Where on earth does one go at that hour… with a blanket?
There are rumours. Whispers in the hostel corridors. That she’s a lesbian. It’s hard to believe, mostly because well I never really knew what that meant before. Not really.I’ve heard the word, yes. But I’ve never stopped to ask: What is a lesbian? What do they do? What makes someone one? Is it just about who they like? Is it about how they touch? Is it… obvious? If she is, then who is her lover?
All these late-night vanishing acts is she going to meet her?I know it’s none of my business. I’m not judging. I’m just… curious. That’s all. She doesn’t really mix much with the rest of us especially not with our batch. She’s always polite, friendly enough. But distant. Like there’s a wall she puts up and lets no one climb.
She’ll join us sometimes for meals or walks to the shops, but she always pulls away eventually. I’ve noticed she prefers spending time with the senior girls. One day, I asked her why. She didn’t hesitate.
“I’m trying to get tips from them,” she said matter-of-factly. “They’ve done the first-year exams. They know what the examiners want. How to answer during practical. What to expect during exams.
"I learn more just listening to them talk.” It made sense. Actually, it was smart. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m still just trying to survive day by day pass my shifts, keep up with notes, make sure I don’t fall asleep in class.
She went on, “Geok Choo she's a distinctionist. Her Malay friend got one distinction and a credit in medical and surgical. I want to learn from them.” So that’s why she hangs around with the seniors.
Not because she doesn’t like us. Not because she thinks she’s better. Because she’s thinking ahead.
Now I wonder: maybe all of us misunderstood her. Maybe even I did.
