The screeching sound of the roller shutter door as it inched its way down to the bare cement of Hall B cruelly broke my silent farewell to the outside world.
I watched in despair as the door squeezed the remaining outside light of the vast complex of the Covid-19 Quarantine and Low Risk Treatment Centre (PKRC) MAEPS 2.0 in Serdang, Selangor.
It had been more than three hours since an ambulance picked me up near my house in Setiawangsa, Kuala Lumpur.
The ambulance driver didn't give me much time to get ready, but fortunately I had packed my bag the day after a doctor from a private hospital called to tell me the result of my RT-PCR tests, thanks to a heads up from my niece.
My niece and her brother had earlier been admitted to PKRC MAEPS 2.0. The siblings and I shared the same close contact, their father whom I met during a funeral a few weeks earlier.
After an over two-hour long process of a "check-in" procedure that included vital signs check-up and ultrasound scan for patients with health problems and those over a certain age, two security checks and a tram ride, we finally walked into the living area in the hall.
THE QUARANTINE EXPERIENCE
The ambience was quite festive with laughter and banter, not solemn, quiet and sedated as I had expected it to be.
The residents — not patients — as I prefer to be called since I didn't feel any pain or discomfort, were either talking to each other at their beds or walking but not aimlessly.
There were none within my sight seen lying on the bed covered by the thick white hospital blankets. But these were not the usual hospital beds, they were portable and foldable camp beds made of aluminium frames and canvas covers.
At almost every row of beds, there was a two-tier shelf that had a number of switch boxes.
There were three empty beds near one of the shelves and, lucky for us, the staff nurse assigned these beds to my two ambulance-mates and I.
We were then instructed to see a doctor and get our linen and hospital gown and pants.
The rectangular hall had a section of it turned into some sort of a command centre for the staff. The top part of the centre's partition wall was made of thick transparent plastic and along it, there were at least four intercom units.
A doctor buzzed the intercom and talked to each of us, checked our health condition and asked for the date of our RT-PCR test.
"On the seventh?" she mumbled something as her fingers repeatedly tapped on the tip of her thumb, "and, you will be discharged on the 16th."
That date would be the 10th day from the day I took the test.
And just like that, my anxiety in not knowing how many days I would be held here vanished in the cold air-conditioned air.
Done with all the procedures, it was time for me to say hello to my neighbours.
Being in a huge hall of strangers with no quiet corners to hide was quite overwhelming for me. But with a few friendly neighbours, making new friends was easier.
Our chatty neighbour who proudly announced that she was the spreader for a new Covid-19 cluster in the Klang Valley shared some tips to "make life here more comfortable", like where to get what and when to do what. Which I later found were quite useful.
Except for my ambulance-mates, I didn't know the names of those around me. I only knew their bed number or location.
The frequently asked ice-breaking questions here were not "what's your name?" or "where are you from?", but were more like "how did you get it?", "what are your symptoms?" and "who else in your family?".
The night didn't seem to wind down any sooner. The lights were on and the hall appeared abuzz with activity, with public announcements coming in one after another and new groups being admitted.
"It's like this every night which usually starts from late afternoon. It will calm down in the wee hours before it picks up again in the morning during discharge," the chatty neighbour said.
The morning was exactly like how it was described to us.
It reached its peak during the discharge process and calmed down until the day's first admission to restart the cycle.
As I completed my first 24 hours at PKRC MAEPS 2.0, I had to admit that it was not too bad at all.
The facilities were good — clean toilets/showers, two surau even though the spaces were quite small and food which was quite tasty though I wished for a bigger portion of vegetables.
Truly, it was a most humbling experience. But my utmost appreciation went to the staff, everyone from the medical personnel to service staff and Rela personnel.
They have been working in shifts ever since the centre reopened on Dec 9 last year, but the way they treated us and entertained our queries and antics was as if we were their first patients on their first day of work. Courteous, ever zealous and professional.
The morning I walked out after spending three nights at PKRC MAEPS 2.0, a Rela personnel said, "Good bye, take care and please, don't come again!".
TIPS TO MAKE LIFE HERE MORE COMFORTABLE
It's a late autumn-early winter kind of cold. Bring enough warm clothing — jackets, socks and maybe some blankets.
Doing nothing makes you hungry. Bring some snacks and tidbits. This is also useful when you're admitted late at night when dinner is over and done.
Daydreaming and sleeping can be tiring too. Bring something to help you kill the time. Books, laptops, tablets or anything that is easy to slip into your bag.
You don't have to pack your whole wardrobe. Just bring some extra undergarments and when you're out of clean clothes, just line up to get one of those round neck polka-dotted tunics and green drawstring pants.
Top up your preferred e-hailing account or bring enough cash for your ride home.
Taxis, buses and e-hailing rides are abundant and eagerly waiting for discharged residents at a designated pick-up area.
The writers is editor for the NST Travel & Food desk and is an easy-to-please traveller as long as there's coffee and chilli
The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect those of the New Straits Times