  Mama had a relapse again. My brother followed her in the ambulance. Though I never sit in one, but I develop a kind of phobia to it. The last time a very loved one was brought by it, I was *solemnly* led to 'DOA' by the staffs upon my arrival in the hospital.
'DOA' reads Death On Arrival. AH she's warded in again, and Mama experiences more difficulty in breathing compare to the last time. At a pinnacle of some frustation, I wish I am the doctor and able to attend to my mother and have all the answers and solutions to her difficulty. At a rational thought, I know only He has the answers and solutions. I am praying harder for the wellness of her health. And my health too. At any rate, I can feel my immunity is running low. So I am bound to fall sick any time. With mama sick, making me sick-worried, and worse, my job HATES me. It's not my working Saturday today, but I have to do cover-up. I hope I don't fall flat. Doctor, doctor, I need my supplements. I really look up to these people in the medical services i.e.
doctors and nurses in hospital. Apart from getting prone to sort of viral and attending to patients' need, they have to tolerate 'cranky' patients which I witnessed myself. On lighter note, I visited some 'old-timer' patients who've been there since when mama first warded last week. So, hospitals are not only meant for the sick. Its also for friendships to kindle. 
