By Chairat Noppakovat, MHA, USA (Retired)

 

At Bangkok Hospital Chiang Mai, we stand on the frontlines of an invisible war—one waged against illness, suffering, and time. Every day, we fight alongside our patients—some striving for victory, others seeking peace in the face of defeat. In this fight, we are sometimes privileged to walk beside individuals whose resilience and determination leave a lasting mark on our hearts.

Two months ago, an Australian World War II veteran was admitted to our hospital, facing what may be his final battle. At ninety-nine, he remains steadfast in his goal—to celebrate his hundredth birthday this May. For him, there is no surrender, because, as the old saying goes: “Old soldiers never die.”

 

I first met Raymond over the phone. A nurse at our clinic was struggling to understand him and transferred the call to me. He was simply asking for a taxi to bring him to the hospital for his appointment. Wanting to ensure he arrived safely, I met him at the entrance. From the car stepped a small, impeccably dressed gentleman, wearing a neatly placed Trilby hat. He introduced himself with the warmth and dignity of a man who had lived a long and remarkable life.

 

From that day forward, I accompanied him to his appointments, helped with translations, and explained medical details to the doctors and staff. Over time, we formed a strong friendship. As a former Australian Army physician, Raymond was known for his stubborn independence, often ignoring medical advice unless I was the one explaining it to him. He trusted me, and because of that, he scheduled his hospital visits only on days when I was working.

 

Then, in early December, Ray’s health took a drastic turn. He was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) with heart and kidney failure, requiring multiple medications and dialysis. His condition deteriorated rapidly, and he had to be intubated. Unable to make medical decisions—and with no listed next of kin, wife, or children—we faced a difficult ethical dilemma: Should we let him go or fight for his life?

 

Despite his frail body, Ray remains fully conscious when not under sedation. His eyes still hold the fire of a man who refuses to surrender. Yet, his records offered no clues about family—only a note that he had two estranged brothers he hadn’t spoken to in decades.

 

With nowhere else to turn, I reached out to the Australian Embassy, hoping they could help locate his relatives. A few days later, I received a call with promising news—they had found a contact in Australia. When I called, a woman answered. She was not a blood relative but Ray’s closest friend, deeply concerned for his well-being. She had strong ties to the Australian Veterans Department and was determined to bring him home.

 

“Ray is a rare and valuable individual,” she told me, urging us to do everything possible to save him. However, when I requested a copy of Ray’s Living Will—something that would clarify his wishes—she refused to provide it or even share her email address. With no legal documentation, our communication reached a dead end.

 

I turned back to the Australian Embassy, asking them to continue their search. Their next discovery was Ray’s niece. When I reached out, she eventually confirmed her connection to him. But her response was unexpected: she and the rest of his family wanted nothing to do with his treatment. Their message was clear: they did not wish to be responsible for him and suggested that we withdraw life support.

 

But Ray is still here. Still conscious. Still fighting.

 

After careful consideration, the medical team decided to perform a tracheostomy to help him breathe, as prolonged intubation was no longer sustainable. His progress is slow, but he is improving. The hospital director, with guidance from the ethics committee, made the decision to honor Ray’s wishes, ensuring he receives the best possible care.

 

The last time I spoke with him was in late January. I asked if he wanted to return to Australia. He shook his head firmly, “No, no, no.” When I asked if he wished to stay in Chiang Mai, he nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, yes, yes.”

 

As a U.S. veteran, having served just like Ray, it is both an honor and a privilege to call him my friend and stand by him in this battle.

At Bangkok Hospital Chiang Mai, we do not abandon our own.

And as General Douglas MacArthur once said:
“Old soldiers never die!”