<TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="100%" border=0><TBODY><TR>April 5, 2009
THE EX-PAT FILES
</TR><!-- headline one : start --><TR>Made in Singapore
</TR><!-- headline one : end --><!-- Author --><TR><TD class="padlrt8 georgia11 darkgrey bold" colSpan=2>By Mark Featherstone
</TD></TR><!-- show image if available --><TR vAlign=bottom><TD width=330>
</TD><TD width=10>
</TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
<!-- START OF : div id="storytext"--><!-- more than 4 paragraphs -->I have needed the attention of Singapore's health professionals on several occasions. Like that time I cut my finger. I won't describe my suffering in detail. Suffice to say that this and other close encounters with the afterlife had already given me a highly favourable impression of Singapore's health system.
But these events, momentous as they were, could not have given me my present appreciation had I not gone through the process of trying to have a baby.
Well, actually it was my wife who was trying to have the baby, but I was very active in a supporting role, and rose to the occasion, so to speak, when called upon to do my bit...so to speak.
My wife has made me promise not to tell you about the surgery she needed for her endometriosis, so I won't. (By the way, endometriosis is a surprisingly common condition in which cells lining the uterus back up through the fallopian tubes and start to grow as masses and cysts around the ovaries and/or elsewhere in the abdominal cavity.) I'll just tell you that even getting ready to get pregnant was an ordeal. But the 'ordealiness' of the situation would have been much worse were it not for the remarkable care my wife received from her doctor, Ng Soon Chye.
When the second blue line on the little white stick provided proof positive that I was virile - I mean, that my wife was pregnant - she remained in Dr Ng's care. I accompanied my wife as often as I could on her visits to his clinic at Gleneagles Hospital, and was always impressed with his rare combination of professional excellence and warmth as a human being. We could not have been in better or more reassuring hands.
Little did I know through the relatively uneventful pregnancy (my wife will say that it was uneventful only for me) how much we would be relying on those hands to see our daughter Sophie brought into the world.
A month before delivery, Sophie was not yet wearing her umbilical cord like a scarf around her neck. In a tremendous feat of the opposite of imagination, I assumed that she would stay that way. We now know that Sophie managed to wrap the cord around her neck not once, but three times.
A week following her due date, Sophie showed no signs of checking out of the luxury resort on the dark side of her mother's navel. An induction was scheduled for early on March 3. That morning began quite pleasantly, particularly so for me because I was not experiencing my wife's painful contractions.
But soon enough, the nurse started paying extra attention to Sophie's heartbeat. When Dr Ng arrived, the seriousness with which he studied the readings made it difficult for me to maintain my nonchalance. Another moment and the decision was made: emergency caesarean section.
One instant I was the good 21st-century husband reminding myself that 'we' were giving birth, and the next I was on the fringes of a blur of activity by a crack commando team of nurses and orderlies. In what seemed like seconds, my wife was prepared for surgery and wheeled out of the room. I accompanied her as far as the operating theatre, but could go no further. I blew her a kiss, the doors closed, and the wait began.
Over the next 20 minutes or so, the double doors opened several times to let patients and professionals in and out. Finally, the doors parted again and a woman in scrubs was pushing a small trolley towards me. The trolley supported a bassinette big enough to hold a newborn baby.
I took a few steps forward and asked what I already knew: 'Is it mine?' Yes, I know you're not supposed to call the baby 'it', but that was all I could really manage at the time. I was feeling light-headed and giddy, and seemed to be having the closest thing to a religious experience. One moment Sophie was not in the world, and then she was.
Through all the stages of Sophie's journey towards terra firma and then during my wife's recovery in the maternity ward, the care we received from Dr Ng and his staff, Dr William Yip, other doctors, nurses and orderlies - everyone at Gleneagles - was second to none. I am deeply grateful. Thank you all.
Singapore is no longer the same for me. She has given me a daughter. Home - the home I call Singapore - now embraces three of us.
Mark Featherstone is a professor at the School of Biological Sciences, Nanyang Technological University. He has lived in Singapore for almost three years.
THE EX-PAT FILES
</TR><!-- headline one : start --><TR>Made in Singapore
</TR><!-- headline one : end --><!-- Author --><TR><TD class="padlrt8 georgia11 darkgrey bold" colSpan=2>By Mark Featherstone
</TD></TR><!-- show image if available --><TR vAlign=bottom><TD width=330>
</TD><TD width=10>
<!-- START OF : div id="storytext"--><!-- more than 4 paragraphs -->I have needed the attention of Singapore's health professionals on several occasions. Like that time I cut my finger. I won't describe my suffering in detail. Suffice to say that this and other close encounters with the afterlife had already given me a highly favourable impression of Singapore's health system.
But these events, momentous as they were, could not have given me my present appreciation had I not gone through the process of trying to have a baby.
Well, actually it was my wife who was trying to have the baby, but I was very active in a supporting role, and rose to the occasion, so to speak, when called upon to do my bit...so to speak.
My wife has made me promise not to tell you about the surgery she needed for her endometriosis, so I won't. (By the way, endometriosis is a surprisingly common condition in which cells lining the uterus back up through the fallopian tubes and start to grow as masses and cysts around the ovaries and/or elsewhere in the abdominal cavity.) I'll just tell you that even getting ready to get pregnant was an ordeal. But the 'ordealiness' of the situation would have been much worse were it not for the remarkable care my wife received from her doctor, Ng Soon Chye.
When the second blue line on the little white stick provided proof positive that I was virile - I mean, that my wife was pregnant - she remained in Dr Ng's care. I accompanied my wife as often as I could on her visits to his clinic at Gleneagles Hospital, and was always impressed with his rare combination of professional excellence and warmth as a human being. We could not have been in better or more reassuring hands.
Little did I know through the relatively uneventful pregnancy (my wife will say that it was uneventful only for me) how much we would be relying on those hands to see our daughter Sophie brought into the world.
A month before delivery, Sophie was not yet wearing her umbilical cord like a scarf around her neck. In a tremendous feat of the opposite of imagination, I assumed that she would stay that way. We now know that Sophie managed to wrap the cord around her neck not once, but three times.
A week following her due date, Sophie showed no signs of checking out of the luxury resort on the dark side of her mother's navel. An induction was scheduled for early on March 3. That morning began quite pleasantly, particularly so for me because I was not experiencing my wife's painful contractions.
But soon enough, the nurse started paying extra attention to Sophie's heartbeat. When Dr Ng arrived, the seriousness with which he studied the readings made it difficult for me to maintain my nonchalance. Another moment and the decision was made: emergency caesarean section.
One instant I was the good 21st-century husband reminding myself that 'we' were giving birth, and the next I was on the fringes of a blur of activity by a crack commando team of nurses and orderlies. In what seemed like seconds, my wife was prepared for surgery and wheeled out of the room. I accompanied her as far as the operating theatre, but could go no further. I blew her a kiss, the doors closed, and the wait began.
Over the next 20 minutes or so, the double doors opened several times to let patients and professionals in and out. Finally, the doors parted again and a woman in scrubs was pushing a small trolley towards me. The trolley supported a bassinette big enough to hold a newborn baby.
I took a few steps forward and asked what I already knew: 'Is it mine?' Yes, I know you're not supposed to call the baby 'it', but that was all I could really manage at the time. I was feeling light-headed and giddy, and seemed to be having the closest thing to a religious experience. One moment Sophie was not in the world, and then she was.
Through all the stages of Sophie's journey towards terra firma and then during my wife's recovery in the maternity ward, the care we received from Dr Ng and his staff, Dr William Yip, other doctors, nurses and orderlies - everyone at Gleneagles - was second to none. I am deeply grateful. Thank you all.
Singapore is no longer the same for me. She has given me a daughter. Home - the home I call Singapore - now embraces three of us.
Mark Featherstone is a professor at the School of Biological Sciences, Nanyang Technological University. He has lived in Singapore for almost three years.
