Enduring aches and long waits

The Star

4 hours ago

Edmund's (not his real name) urine was the colour of cherry red at 4am.
By dawn, it was the colour of blackcurrant juice, with blood clots.
It burned when he urinated and he knew enough biology to be afraid.
His company panel general practitioner (GP) wrote an urgent referral to a urologist at a private hospital and told him to go immediately.
His company's insurance provider issued a guarantee letter within the hour.
But the earliest appointment the urologist's clinic could give was three days later.
So Edmund waited, worried sick about possible bladder cancer.
When the appointment day came, blood and urine samples were taken in the morning.
He only saw the urologist at 7pm. The radiology department was closed by then.
He had to return the next day for a computed tomography (CT) scan, followed by a cystoscopy – a procedure where a thin, flexible tube with a camera (cystoscope) is inserted into the urethra and bladder to examine the lining.
He spent nearly 20 hours of waiting over two days, surrounded by foreign patients.
It turned out to just be a bad bladder infection. No cancer.
Nevertheless, Edmund said he now dreaded ever needing to see a specialist in Penang again.
In February, another man, Johnny (not his real name) twisted his knee but couldn't recall how it happened.
He limped for months, needing a walking stick on some weeks.
He nursed it with painkillers, an ice compress and a brace, but the pain got worse.
His GP, who had previously treated him for other 'sprains without trauma', suspected Johnny had rheumatoid arthritis and needed to see a rheuma­to­logist.
That's when Johnny's wait began.
One rheumatologist was booked for the entire month. Another had a single open slot – at the end of June.
Not wanting to wait any longer because he had been taking strong painkillers for months, which he knew were bad for his organs, Johnny sought an occupational health doctor who was willing to order tests and start treatment.
I related their stories to a friend who is a GP.
She sighed and told me that in recent months, she had resorted to admitting some of her patients into private hospitals – just so they could get specialist care faster.
Even then, there were times when no beds were available – these were top-rated private hospitals and her patients were either insured or had the money.
If you were to ask around, you'll find many Penang residents with similar accounts – appointments weeks away, hours-long waits even if their given appointments are in the morning or hospital lobbies teeming with international patients.
In February, Malaysia Healthcare Travel Council data revealed that Penang was no longer the country's top healthcare destination. Klang Valley has pulled up ahead.
Between January and November last year, Klang Valley received 560,700 healthcare travellers and earned RM886mil.
Penang saw 453,600 travellers and made RM866mill.
The numbers are massive. But I couldn't help noticing the shift.
Before the Covid-19 pandemic, Penang was the crown jewel of medical tourism in Malaysia.
Indonesians, in particular flocked here, not just for treatment, but also for the food.
Now I wonder if Penang's position slipped not because fewer patients came, but because the hospitals here were full.
That's still good news for Penang's economy – but less so for Penang's residents needing healthcare.
We're used to government hospitals being crowded. But now even the private ones are packed.
I don't work in healthcare and can't say what the solution might be. Build more hospitals? Limit foreign patient intake? Prioritise locals?
Every idea I pondered on has complications.
Maybe we just have to wait and hope that when our turn finally comes, the diagnosis isn't worse than the delay.