A Year Ago, Today (1)

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.

A year ago, today, Papa fell. On the floor, at his bedside.

He was standing up on his own, and he fell, in front of my eyes, after my shower.

I lifted him onto his bed, still clad in my towel.

He was in pain. I saw him in pain.

I asked him to lie down, and called Liza and Nina.

The sisters came, called for an ambulance.

The beeping ambulance brought him to the hospital, while the 3 of us try to catch up with it, in our cars.

Papa was brought into the ICU, Hospital Kajang. We sat in the waiting room-a small room with smaller chairs, while they were working on Papa in the opposite room.

I sat beside the window, held my knees close to my chin, and looked outside.

I saw many gloomy faces walking. People in hospitals are always gloomy, I thought.

And so was I. I must be gloomy. I am gloomy, aren’t I?

But then, why should I be gloomy?

Look at that mother carrying a child in her arms. She looks gloomy. Maybe her husband has had an accident, and she is thinking about the mouths she has to feed, if he never comes out of the OT alive.

Look at that man walking with canes because he broke a bone in his left leg. He looks gloomy; the woman beside him looks gloomy, because he might not be able to work for the next 3 months, and who to pay the bills then?

People in hospitals are gloomy because of their fear of losing the people they love, losing the happiness they once had, losing their freedom from problems.

I am not losing the person I love.

So I shouldn’t feel gloomy.

Papa will be fine. He’s fine.

See, the doctors are coming in. And the nurses too.

They are going to fix Papa up.

After they fix him, they’re gonna say, like all of the doctors Papa have been to have said, ‘He’s fine. Just a bruise. But he’s fine. You say he’s 86? Well then, he is the fittest 86 year old I’ve ever met! You can take him home now.’ That’s what they’re gonna say.


But what is taking the doctors so long?


I looked outside the window again, I saw the main gate. That’s where we got in, and that’s where we’re gonna leave, all four of us, with smiles on our faces.

And I’m gonna scold Papa for being adventurous, getting up on his own. And he’s gonna just stay quiet. But I know he’ll be listening.


But what is taking the doctors so long?


‘Papa, I’m going to buy a car, you know’ I said, sitting beside him on his bed last night.

Papa was busy arranging the little packets of ‘Kuih Lapis’ in a plastic Tupperware.

‘When Ayu ada kereta, kalau Papa sakit, then we don’t have to call Liza and ask her to come all the way and take you to the hospital. I can’, I said proudly.

He was quiet, and then said, ‘Don’t make promises. When the time comes, you won’t have the time’,


Why are the doctors taking too long?


Liza was on another chair, near the door, on the phone.

Nina was on a chair in front of me; her fingers are busy with the phone, too.

I, have nobody to call or contact. Why should I call anyone? Papa is fine.

‘Doctor, boleh saya cakap sebentar?’ was the voice of a young doctor standing at the door, looking at my Doctor sister, Nina.

‘OK, Doctor,’ Nina said, standing up and walking to him. They walked slowly together to the opposite room, where Papa was being fixed.

I looked out the window again. My knees, still close to my chin.

Did I lock the front door? Did I switch off the iron? There’s this document at the office which my boss is supposed to sign. Did I tell him? Does he know?


‘Guys, you wanna take a peek?’ Nina said, at the waiting room door.

We walked up.

We stood at the door of the opposite room, and we saw Papa.

He was on a bed, his eyes closed.

He had wires and tubes all over his chest and wrists, and some were even put through his nostrils. There were beeping sounds, coming from the machines he was connected to.

But his eyes were closed.

‘You have two options,’ the young doctor said. ‘You can let him stay here, for observation, or you can take him to HKL for a CT Scan, since we don’t have the scan here’.

But you’re supposed to say he’s fine! He is fine!

Nina was doubtful that the Scan could tell us anything more than we already should know by now.

Liza was quiet.

I want to go to HKL. Take him to HKL. Now.


‘Ayu, you go with the ambulance, we’ll be right behind you’

I sat beside him in the ambulance.

The wires are still with him. The beeping sounds too.
And then the siren.

Why are my cheeks wet? Damn these tears.

We arrived at HKL. They rushed Papa to the scan room and asked me to stay outside. The red light above the door turned red. Papa was being scanned. They are gonna find out what’s wrong him and they are gonna fix him.


Another waiting area.

There were chairs, unoccupied. Why do they have chairs? I can’t sit, I can’t stay still, nobody can, when their loved ones are in that room. So why do they have chairs?

Staring at the red light, I fought my own denial.

He is leaving us.

Liza and Nina finally arrived.

Soon after that, the red light was turned off. Papa was then rushed out of the scan room into another room.

In that room, there was only one wire connected to him, to read his heart beat and blood pressure.


‘The doctor wants to talk to you’ someone said.

‘There, let’s take a look at this’, the doctor said, holding up Papa’s CT Scan results up.

The doctor said that the fall had caused his head to bleed extensively. The blood now occupies the room in his skull, taking the space of the brain and at the same time pushing the brain to one side, which causes his unconsciousness. The bleeding will continue, she says, and there is nothing they can do about it.

Nothing they can do. Even if this happened to a younger person, they still cannot do anything.

They cannot fix Papa up.

She suggests us to take him back to Kajang Hospital ‘for observation’. To observe what?

We went back to the room where Papa is.

We waited for the ambulance.

Liza was outside the room, walking back and forth.

I went up to her.

She leaned on the wall, her body slowly nearing the floor. She burst into tears.

I hugged her and cried too, there, on the hospital floor.


We reached Kajang Hospital.

Papa was placed in a four bedded room.

Papa was connected to more wires and tubes.

‘Ayu stay the night here ok? Anything you need?’

No.

‘Ok so then, please call us if anything,’

Ok.

‘Will you be okay?’

Yes.

‘We will come back later for you, tukar shift’

Ok.


They left.

I stared at Papa.

It was getting dark.

I was getting numb.

‘La ilaha illallah, La ilaha illallah, La ilaha illallah’

Follow me Pa, say ‘La ilaha illallah’

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To Where I Was Before

I'm on the highway again
To where I was before
I'm running away now
From what or whom I can't recall
But I'm far away and out of breath now
I left a part of me
Somewhere along the highway
I'll just look for it again
Some other day
I'm too far now
And I have to go
To where I was before
To somewhere I was before

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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New Job Jitters

I received an SMS from my ex schoolmate asking me ‘Wei, ape tips masuk keje tempat baru ek? Aku nervous la.’

The nervousness is understandable. I have worked in three places before my current one, and from the experiences, I know that no matter how prepared you are for your first day at work, there is always this feeling that you might end up doing the things you prayed you weren’t stupid enough to do. You cross your fingers you won't end up being everyone’s joke for the whole year.

Well, to me, besides dressing accordingly, making sure you have fresh breath and your hands are well moisturised for all the ‘Hi’s’ and ‘Nice meeting you’s’ handshakes, you have to master TWO very important things.

Number One – Sense of Direction (which I suck at, on the road, and even in a bloody building..sigh. But take note that I’m working on it). You need to know a few VERY important locations – toilet and cafe, for obvious reasons, The Boss’s Room, so that you stay away from it, and oh, of course, your table.

Number Two – Sense of Humour (which is a God-given gift of mine :D). You need to have this. Easy peasy way to win friends. Not gifted? Well then read a few jokes the night before you turn up for work. Make sure the jokes aren’t gender, status or race bias, unless you wanna get kicked out the first day.
There. My two cents’ worth. Hope it helps!

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The Selfish Self

Oh so what is there to whine
And what is left to murmur
Tranquil be what tranquil is
Yours and mine are not the same

What is there to hurt apart
When we hurt more together
And selfishness is what selfishness is
When what interests me don’t interest you

Oh what is there to regret
When the judge of all this is only you and me
Either can be wrong, either can be right
Remember just-time fades but fate doesn’t

But oh, beyond the hurtful words and the silent curses
And in search of who is worse
We become inhuman, you and I
As we were all along

May this be not just of a chapter we read
Or just a theory we memorize
But a lesson we learn
To be remembered, should the test come again

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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The Brain Theory

My experiences showed that, you cannot avoid from falling in love. You don’t control it, not even when you want to.

You don’t tell the heart what to do; it falls for anyone it wants. There were many times when I question myself as to why I fell for whomever I fell, be it requited or not. In cases where it was not, and when he says ‘But you’re only a friend’, I blame myself; although I know very well that it wasn’t my fault. I did not pray for the heart to fall for him. I did not put an effort in making the heart fall for him; it just did, on its own. The heart was to blame, not me.

So when the heart has a brain of its own, I am often put in an awkward situation, and find myself singing to the cliché line sung by Olivia Newton John ‘My heart is saying ‘Fool! Forget him’, my heart is saying ‘Don’t let go, hold on to the end’.

So more often than not, the brain does all the cleaning up for the mess the heart has made.

‘But he’s not into you. There must be a reason. This is a lesson to be learned; maybe Karma was trying to tell you something. This time, think of yourself first, take into account your feelings and your needs-you have been ignoring them for him. Think of you now. Are you worth all the pain the heart causes? Of course you’re not’ was the Brain’s justification during the recent heartbreak.

For the second time, I listened to the Brain. I know the heart can be trained. It can fall in love all it wants, but the Brain can clean up the wears and tears when the heart breaks and discipline the heart, as long as you let the Brain do his job.

You have to be cruel to be kind. Let the Brain get rid of that guy you go ga-ga over, because, hey, if they didn't pass the 'Rational Filtering Test' from the Brain, then why cling on. Listen to the Brain and help yourself.

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The Bus Ride Theory

‘It’s a bus ride, dear’, said Viv. We were sitting in front of the fax machine, looking out a window where we can see carelessly plotted setinggan houses down below. The spot where we were was secluded from everyone in the office, a tiny spot where we sit to find perspective.

‘It’s a bloody bus ride. You never know when the bus will come, who the driver will be and what the destination is. The only thing definite is that, we have to pay for the ticket upon entering the bus’.

Yes. We have to pay and it’s not refundable.

‘Heck, then what if we like the driver but the ride ain’t good? What if the bus is accident-prone, would we still wanna ride it? And the destination-that’s a different story altogether. Besides, what if you came on the bus not because of the destination? What if you just want the ride?’ I said, staring at a bunch of kids playing footie in the humble space in front of their setinggan houses.

‘Yeah, can the driver guarantee a safe trip? A trip we really want?’ Viv’s reply was echoed by the beeping of the fax machine, telling us it got the document through.

And with that, we went back to our seats. Five minutes of sitting in front of the machine, we gained perspective, and a theory to be put to test for the rest of our lives.

Now that theory finds its place in my current situation.

I’m in pain. I cannot pretend that I am not. I have been through this road before, it is all very familiar. Sometimes, just sometimes, I think of why God is putting me on this winding road again and again when I know what the destination would be. Maybe there was something I missed the last time I passed this road. Maybe I left something behind; maybe God just wants me to ride on the bus, to while time away. Maybe the bus ride is better than being at the bus stop, unprotected from the rain.

Like a bus ride, I have been through bumps along the road. I have been to destinations where I crave being home with myself; also destinations that make me forget who I am.

Now I find myself at the bus stop again, after a ride. Like every other bus rides, this one gives another lesson.

The lesson is-Remember that every bus has a bell.

When the bus driver is charming but when he asks you to ride with him to keep him company because he was sleepy and needed a friend to keep him awake for a ride around town, you can opt to stay and be his company to ensure he has a safe trip. But if you opt to get to a destination with him when all he wants is a company for a town ride, remember, there is always bell you can press, to get down at the next stop. When you step down, say goodbye, pray he’ll be well and hope that he will only receive good things in life.

And what happens to you? Well, you will be at the stop again. Who cares if you’re not protected from the rain?

The next time a bus arrives; do not hop right in-think again and again, whether the ride is worth the fee you pay, and whether you want to hop in for the ride, the driver or the destination.

All this carried me back to that five minutes with Viv, in front of the fax machine, sitting on blue chairs and staring at the setinggan houses’ rusted rooftops, looking for answers.

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About Going On

When Papa passed away, many have been robbed away from me-love, attention and responsibilities. Losing Mama at a young age has taught me to deal with pain and forced independency. Losing Papa in my adult life taught me how to deal with losing things you take for granted, things that you thought would be there all the time. I lost the home when Papa left, as well as the memories wrapped around it.

The hardest part of losing your parents is when, during your silent nights alone, you think of how much more you could’ve done for them, how many times more you should have said ‘I love you’ and whether you have done enough for them to feel the slightest pride in calling you their child. And during the holidays are the times you wish they were there to just sit beside you and call your name in their laughs and giggles. Also when you did well at school or at work and you smile from ear to ear, you wish that your parents we there for the pat on the back, the high fives and the ‘Well done!’s. And of course, when your heart is broken, all you want is for them to just be there, no comfort words needed, but just be there, for a hug. And when you realize they are not there to hold, you plead and beg that they didn’t leave you in the first place.

All that, and yet you will still find the strength in yourself to go through every single day. It is amazing what the heart can carry, it can bear a lot.

So I go on, as I am, as Mama would have wanted me to, I go on. As far as I can, Ma. And when I can’t, it will be just a night of tears and no more. The next day, I will go on. Until it breaks me again, I promise I’ll go on.

(Al-Fatihah to my parents, Hayati Ariffin and Mahmud Simin)
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