A Doctor in The House: A Memoir of Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad (90 page)

In fact, I was brimming with ideas about developing the country. I couldn’t wait to see them take off and oversee their progress. I knew my disease might recur but that was something I had to accept, and so long as I remained Prime Minister my health held up well. I even felt strengthened by the challenges that I had to face and by my success in handling them. It was only after I retired that my cardiac difficulties returned.

I have not slowed down since my retirement and, aside from giving talks around the world and setting up an office at the Perdana Leadership Foundation in Putrajaya, I have also taken up horse-riding again. I made yearly trips to Argentina to ride in the Andes, sometimes for up to eight hours straight. But towards the end of 2006, after a strenuous trip to Saudi Arabia, Japan and New Zealand and several back-to-back engagements in Kuala Lumpur, I suffered a mild heart attack the evening after a Hari Raya open house held by my children.

I was at home on 6 November when I again felt that familiar tightness in my chest. Hasmah called Datuk Dr Nasir Muda, a cardiologist and my personal physician, and I was taken to IJN in the early hours of the morning. The doctors immediately put me on a drip and diagnosed a mild heart attack after conducting an ECG. I recovered fairly quickly and by the fourth day, I was sitting up in bed and ready to resume working. Hasmah always thinks it’s a good sign when I ask for my writing tablet.

Despite my relatively quick recovery, it was clear that I needed to consider the possibility of another heart operation. In most cases patients remain reasonably healthy for 10 years after a bypass, but 18 years had already passed since I had had the procedure done. My doctors said I had to decide fairly quickly if I needed to undergo a second bypass, before my condition worsened and it became too dangerous to carry it out. I had to weigh my decision against the fact that I was already in my 80s and would likely find the post-operative recovery more difficult to deal with.

While I mulled over my decision, I started an exercise regimen that was designed to boost my blood circulation. I also went on the treadmill and cycled, sometimes up to 10 kilometres a day, which Hasmah thought was overdoing it. In fact, I was to find out later that she even asked for my horse to be trained not to gallop too fast.

Despite the exercise, by May 2007 I noticed that my legs felt heavier and I could not catch my breath when I went up the stairs. That month we had a class of ’47 reunion in Bukit Merah in Perak and spent several days with old friends from medical college, staying up late every night to talk. Hasmah and I flew to Langkawi immediately after the reunion for a brief holiday.

During our stay on the island, I suffered an acute attack of pulmonary oedema.
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 I was tired the day it happened and woke up from a nap feeling breathless. I used an inhaler but it had no effect. After that it all happened very quickly—as my lungs filled with fluid and I began to struggle to breathe, Dr Nasir called for an ambulance but quickly decided that it would take too long to wait for it to arrive. He assisted me to the car and we rushed to the hospital. I remember hearing him urging me to hang on even as I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness. We actually passed the ambulance on the way but Dr Nasir, knowing there was little time left to get me to the hospital, ordered our driver to keep going. Hasmah later said that she thought she would lose me that day. To make room for me and Dr Nasir in the car, she sat in the front seat and could only reach back to place her hand on my knee in an effort to comfort me.
 

At the hospital, they forced oxygen into my lungs and managed to stabilise me after half an hour. Dr Nasir contacted his colleagues at IJN and anaesthetist Dr Sharifah Suraya Syed Mohd Tahir flew in with all the equipment that the hospital in Langkawi did not have.

By this time it seemed as if most people on the island had heard about what had happened and they began to gather at the hospital. In order to get past the crowds the next day when we flew back to Kuala Lumpur, the hospital director had to use a decoy ambulance at the front of the hospital as we slipped out from the back. When we got to the airport, some of our children had just arrived on a commercial flight and had to turn back and board the same plane to Kuala Lumpur.

Getting me on the private plane to fly home proved to be a complicated task. The steps could not accommodate my stretcher so I had to be carried up, with one person supporting my head and shoulders and another holding up my feet. Not wanting to let my body sag, my physiotherapist Boey Ghod Chee insisted on crawling underneath me to support my back as we made our way up the stairs. I needed oxygen but it was dangerous to fly at high altitudes with oxygen tanks onboard so the plane flew at a low altitude all the way back to Kuala Lumpur.

The attack left me feeling weak and unwell and I began to seriously consider the doctors’ advice to undergo a second bypass. Another operation, of course, would be far more risky because I was now 82 years old. Not going through with the procedure, on the other hand, meant that another attack was virtually inevitable. Eventually, even though I knew that undergoing a second bypass would give me no guarantees, I decided to take the risk. Again, my medical training proved to be less than useful, as I knew of the potential complications involved.

I did consider going overseas this time but, again, I worried that it would only undermine public confidence in our doctors. We brought in a consultant from the Mayo Clinic in the US, but the surgical team was ultimately led by Dr Yahya and Dr Rozali again.

I was admitted back into IJN on 2 September 2007 and had my second bypass two days later. Dr Yahya and Dr Rozali were not the only members of the original team that operated on me in 1988 to return. Virtually everyone else—including the operating theatre nurses—were involved as well. Some of them had already left IJN for private practice but they all came back for my operation.

For a while, during my post-operative recovery, I suffered from hallucinations and strange dreams that I was the son of a Sultan or that I was working as a horse trainer. Sometimes I thought I was elsewhere, in Jakarta, Thailand or China. I had to breathe with the help of a machine, which also stopped me from swallowing and speaking. Even after they had removed the tube from my trachea, I felt as if it was still there and had difficulty swallowing for a while. Because I could not speak, I tried writing, but found that I could not recall the right letters. My family gave me a keyboard so I could point to the letters I wanted but I was too uncoordinated to manage even that. At one point, when my frustration got the better of me, I wanted to pull out all the tubes from my body. Hasmah scolded me, saying that so many people had worked very hard to help me.

I developed an infection after staying in the ICU for two weeks. The doctors knew they had to go back in and were worried that I would not agree to another operation. But I decided to go ahead, hoping it would help me recover more quickly and end the nightmare of having to try and sleep with tubes in my neck, hand, back and chest.

I was wheeled back into the operating theatre on 22 September, but although the surgery went off without any problems, my recovery again proved complicated. Depression set in and I began to feel too tired to go on. To raise my spirits, several visitors were allowed to see me, including my horse-riding buddies, the Mufti of Perlis
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 Dr Mohd Asri Zainul Abidin, and my former personal physician Datuk Dr Zainal Hamid. Hasmah also tried to encourage me. She brought in one of her favourite pictures of me, pointed to it and gently said that she had brought this man to the hospital and fully intended to take him home.
 

Hasmah rarely left my side while I was in the hospital. During that time, she was home for only one night during the fasting month to spend time with our family, but otherwise slept at the hospital. All of this did take its toll on her—one day, out of sheer exhaustion, she literally toppled from her chair and woke up face-down on the floor. This caused a minor panic in the ICU but Hasmah insisted she was fine and was merely very tired.

In all I spent 49 days in IJN and was discharged on 20 October. I must admit that there were occasions when I felt perilously close to the end. In fact, I had gone into this knowing full well what the odds were and, on the day I was admitted, I had given Hasmah the combination number to the locked briefcase that held all my private papers. There was a time during my long stay at IJN, when it seemed that my condition would not improve, that Hasmah considered opening the briefcase. When she told Mirzan, however, he said the time had not come and it was best to leave it as it was.

Since these last two operations, I’ve been able to recover most of my old energy, but I tire easily and am still underweight. For once, I’m struggling to put on the pounds... this in a country where everyone is always determined to feed you to the gills.

As I write this, it has been more than three years since my second operation. The recovery had been much slower than the first time, but it has been progressive and I am now fully active.

I began riding again more than a year ago and have kept up a weekly programme. I also walk if the weather is fine, otherwise I use the treadmill. In the morning I exercise with weights. In February 2009 I went to Argentina and spent 10 days riding on the pampas, morning and evening.

I work at three separate offices daily from 8.30am to 6pm and often have to attend night functions. Most weekends I would be out and I would go abroad at least once every month to give talks.

Despite the two operations, I have generally enjoyed good health and people have repeatedly asked me about my stamina and how I manage to look younger than my age. I have brushed off these questions by jokingly replying that one should choose one’s parents carefully.

But still the questions keep coming. Many believed and told others that I was getting injections in Switzerland. One lady came up to me in a supermarket and asked me if it was true I took some medicine costing RM5,000 a day. Many went to the pharmacy where I bought my vitamins and would buy whatever I bought.

Finally, I promised I would tell all in my memoirs. But what is there to tell? People feel disappointed if I begin to talk about healthcare or personal hygiene. They want a quick fix, but there isn’t one. Certain things, however, can help us look younger than our age.

Keeping active is important at any age. But it is especially important after retirement. As far as possible I try to maintain my working routine. I get up early for my early morning prayers. After prayers, I shave, brush my teeth and have a very warm bath. Before breakfast I practise a few minutes of deep breathing and light exercise.

I have a light breakfast and then I begin the day with some writing. I feel lost if I do not write something in the early morning. I think it activates the brain and helps to retain its sharpness. I seldom do heavy exercise and certainly not in the morning on a working day. I do the treadmill infrequently, I don’t walk as much as I would like to, and I don’t play golf.

What I do like is horse-riding, which I learnt to do at the age of 60. I was invited by the late General Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq, the President of Pakistan, to review the annual parade on the country’s national day. We went by car and then we got into a horse-drawn carriage flanked by Pathan horsemen in full military uniform. I was impressed by what I saw and I decided to buy two horses in Pakistan. President Zia got to know about my interest and decided to make me a gift of the two horses. And so I started to learn riding at the Selangor Polo and Riding Club.

Almost the first thing I learnt about riding was to sit up straight and erect in the saddle. This is very important. It prevents you from getting a backache. I think it helps me to stand erect and not slouch or stoop even when I am 80 years old. When people stoop they look old.

I developed a habit of walking as if I was marching. Most people at 80 would naturally slow down. They even shuffle and drag their feet. Younger people tend to help old people when getting up, when standing, walking and climbing stairs. Sometimes old people like to be helped. They enjoy the concern and attention of their children or grandchildren. If one allows oneself to be helped, it may develop into a habit. It is better to try to avoid the help and assistance for as long as possible. It gives the appearance of being young. And really it is good for muscle tone and balance.

I also always try to get sufficient sleep—six hours at night in a proper bed if possible. Then I would catnap for 15 minutes after lunch. For the catnap I would not lie down. I would sit in a comfortable chair with my head up. I do the same when travelling and when I have nothing to do. Napping with the head up is important. If you lie down, you will wake feeling groggy and be unable to work.

Besides being able to snatch short periods of sleep, my experience as a medical practitioner also helped me work long hours as Prime Minister. Having slept throughout a flight I would go straight to work. After all, when I visited foreign countries, I took no rest, starting work immediately upon arrival or the next day at most.

But most of all, if we want to look young, we must be happy. The happiness of being in love is very noticeable. It is difficult of course to be happy all the time. But if you count your blessings every morning, you will feel happy. There would be problems to tackle, misfortunes to be faced, but always there would be something to feel cheerful about. For me, to wake up alive is a great blessing, even in the past, and more so now.

As you can see I have no special formula for not looking my age. People who expect me to name the elixir of youth that sustains me will be disappointed. Truly there is no such thing.

ENDNOTE

[
1
] An acute pulmonary oedema is a potentially fatal condition where air sacs in the lungs fill up with fluid, preventing the absorption of oxygen.
 

[
2
] In Malaysia, 13 states including Perlis have appointed a Mufti, or Islamic scholar who advises the state government on matters pertaining to Islam.