I first met him when he got admitted last November. A 35 year old man hailed from Terengganu. In many respect, he was one tough man inside. Never had I came across a person with a long list of medical problems. He had asthma, diabetes, burnt out-acromegaly, AIHA with evans syndrome, cardiomyopathy, hypothyroidism and left leg filariasis (untut). He was even allergic to penicillin which once nearly killed him.
He was single and being morbidly obese with those list of illness. Perhaps it was hard for him to meet up a girl for a meaningful relationship, although he was a gentle, good man with a chirpy character. 
That November he was admitted for severe left leg cellulitis which compounded the filariasis. We became good friends after a while, he addressed me just by my name - no more doctor which didn't bother me at all. It took him 1.5 month to get well enough to be discharged back to Terengganu.
Two weeks ago while I was on call. A nurse told me a new patient just got admitted. She said "He's big doc... very big and there is something about his left leg which doesn't look right". I knew right away my friend had come back.
He looked like he had lost a couple of pound. Flabby arms and shrunken face. He was ill. This time none of his pre-existing diseases could explain his current problem. He had fever, breathlessness, weight loss for the past 1 month. Over the few days we treated him for congestive cardiac failure secondary to pneumonia.
The full blood picture however showed presence of blast cell (immature blood cells produced too early by damaged bone marrows). We immediately knew he had leaukaemia.
It was me who had to do the first bone marrow aspiration and considering his weight of 110kg, the task was not easy. It hurt me to see him in pain during that procedure despite the 100mg of IV pethidine and the 10mg midazolam which didn't sedate him either. We then proceeded with chemotherapy after identifying which type of leaukaemia we're dealing with.
He fought his last days with courage and patience. Never had I see him broke down in fear, one time he asked me why was he being so unlucky. I replied perhaps God was testing him.
I last saw him one morning in the high dependency ward. He looked tired, lost all his hair from the side effects of chemotherapy. His lips were swollen and bruised and he could barely speak which required him to communicate with pen and paper. I held his hand and tried to comfort him. He knew his time would come soon, so I stayed beside him for a while.
The next morning when I went to see him again. His bed was empty. A crisp clean sheet covered the bed. It took a while for me to realise that he had gone forever.
Rest well my friend, you had fought a good battle.
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