A Year Ago, Today (3)

Please note that the short sentences and empty space made between each sentence in this post are intentional. They signify the emptiness the writer felt when recording one of the tragedies in her life.

My back was aching and I woke up, to the voices of nurses.

Brushed my teeth, looked at Papa.

He is still, as he was yesterday.


Today, it’s a Chinese doctor.

Unlike the young Malay doctor, this doctor was hands on.

He checked Papa’s eyes.

I stayed quiet and observed everything he did.

‘Have you called your relatives?’, he said, hanging back his stethoscope on his neck, flipping Papa’s file.

Yes.

‘Ok’, he said. Putting down the file, this time looking me in the eyes, he continued, ‘He has probably 2 or 3 hours to live’

I blinked.

I nodded.

As usual, he gave me a concerned look; I gave him a bland smile.

He left.


Tonight is malam Jumaat. Make it a Friday, God, and make it easy. If he has to go, make it tonight or tomorrow, before Maghrib.

‘La ilahaillallah, La ilahaillallah, La ilahaillallah’

Follow me Pa, say ‘La ilahaillallah’

2-3 hours you say?

2 or 3 hours...

I looked at his BP, still okay.

His heartbeat too.



30, maybe 45 minutes passed.

He is still okay.

I don't trust this doctor.

I just don't. See, Papa's ok.


I went outside. I wanted to wait for my sisters.

As I left the ward door, I gave the guard at the entrance a ‘how-dare-you-give-my-sisters-a-hard-time-coming-in-to-see-our-dying-dad-yesterday’ look.

I walked and sat at the outdoor waiting area. It’s around 9 am.

There were many people at that area-women, children. But their faces conveyed the same message: they are not the happiest people in the world right now.


Nina came.

I saw her car entering the hospital area.

She brought food, as usual.

She sat beside me.

‘The Chinese doctor said he only has a couple of hours left’

She nodded and said, 'That's what the young doctor told me yeaterday too. A couple of hours. But he's still here today'

Oh.

I guess they can never tell.

‘Uncle Kamal is coming today’, she continued. He is my late mother’s younger brother, from Johor. How nice of him to come.

How nice to have Mama’s siblings around. How nice.


We went into the ward surprisingly easily, without any word from the guard.

Liza came in later.

A few minutes after, suspicion finally got over the guard and he decided to confront us when we were at Papa’s bed.

‘Maaf, cik, seorang sahaja boleh tunggu sini’

That bought him our angry look.

Nina, who was holding a Yassin, shot back, ‘Bapak saya tengah nazak ni. Mak kami dah takde. Kami bertiga sahaja. Saya akan tetap duduk sini’

Her eyes getting watery.

Since Papa fell, this is the first time I saw her eyes show traces of tears.

He left.

‘I’m gonna talk to the doctor later about the guard’, she said, continuing to read the Yassin.


Later that afternoon, Uncle Kamal came, with her daughter, my cousin.

He was the only one who didn’t say ‘Sabar ye’, and I noticed that easily.

He came in, took a chair, sat beside the bed, and opened his small Al-Quran and started reading. That, and not saying ‘Sabar ye’, made him my favourite visitor.


My colleagues came. My 3 best friends from the office came.

‘Sorry Ayu, Kak Zue tak dapat datang, dia dah masuk ward’, one of them said.

Kak Zue is going to have a baby.

I am happy for her.

And I thought to myself, hospitals are not only for sad people.


My obnoxious boss came.

My General Manager came. She gave me a hug.

My ex-bosses from Kementerian came. They were doctors. Explaining to them about Papa’s condition was easy. They even took a look at the CT Scan results. And they too, didn’t say ‘Sabar ye’.

Papa’s friends came. Yes, Papa’s friends.

I asked to talk in private with one of them, who happened to be a Khairat Kematian member of our Masjid back home.

‘Pakcik, macam mana nak menguruskan jenazah Papa nanti?’

Menguruskan jenazah Papa? Did I just say that? Is he really nearing his death? Do I risk sounding like an irresponsible daughter by saying that? I was sure that those were the same questions the Pakcik had, as he looked at me, blank.

‘Doktor kata apa, nak?, he said, making me feel that I had to explain Papa’s condition from scratch, so I did.

Throughout the lengthy explanation, he nodded after 2 or 3 of my sentences.

When I reached ‘Jadi kami nak tau macam mana dan siapa nak uruskan’, his head sank down, he was in deep thought.

‘Kami boleh uruskan. Haji Mahmud ni dulu ahli Khairat masjid. Kami boleh buat. Ayu cuma telefon Pakcik, nanti, dan kami akan bawa jenazah dari hospital ke rumah, kami akan hantar tukang mandi jenazah sekali.’

‘Kain kapan dan peralatan pengkebumian?’

‘Kami bagi semua. Jangan risau. Tak perlu bayar apa-apa’

‘Kenapa?’

‘Macam Pakcik cakap tadi, Papa tu dulu ahli Khairat Masjid, dia ada bayar yuran keahlian, jadi untuk ahli, tak perlu bayar apa-apa’

Alhamdulillah. There is somebody to help. Thank you, God, for making it easy on us.

Pakcik and I went back to Papa’s bed, and minutes later, Pakcik said he had to go, to ‘sediakan apa yang patut’.

Terma kasih pakcik.


I asked my cousin to come with me to go back home for me to have a shower.

She came along.


‘Papa’s blood pressure is dropping, heartbeat’s slow’, was Nina’s SMS when I was already on the way back to the hospital.

Rushing in, I saw Nina, Liza and Uncle Kamal, calm, as they were before I left.

‘The BP turned normal a few minutes ago, so did his heartbeat’, Nina said, when she saw me puzzled.

I took a deep breath.


Late afternoon.

Papa’s siblings came.

More cousins came.

Aziz came.

Anuar came.

More neighbours came.

More of Liza’s friends came.

My ex-school mates came.

It was after visiting hours. But everybody I can think of came.

Obviously the guard was given a word of warning from someone, maybe the Doctor, as he let everybody in easily.


That night, Liza went back home for her shower.

She came back at midnight.

‘Can I sleep in your car? Just for a while’,

‘Yeah, sure, I’ll stay here’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah. Nah ambik kunci ni’


In Liza’s car, I turned on the radio.

Orang mengaji.

I blinked.

Just for a while. I promise to come back in two hours. Kesian Kak Liza.

I dozed off.


It was bright morning.

Liza came and frantically knocked on the car door.

‘Something’s the matter with Papa. Come quick!’