It’s a working Monday. Then Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday would be public holiday. Malaysia is a great country with many holidays. As expected, the morning streets are quiet and hospital parking, for once, was so pleasant.
I am doing trauma this week. And I hope in my heart, somehow, there is no newly warded patient over the weekend. But there is. A patient whose motorbike skidded and rammed a divider. And I hope, somehow, the patient is not a malay, otherwise she had to spend her raya in the hospital. Oh, but she is. Did I mention the patient is a female?
Siti (not her real name) and her younger brother were treading the trunk road from Kulim to Kelantan. On a motorbike. Regular Malaysians. I believe all they had in mind, was the spirit of holiday and Raya, heading home for a reunion with their family. When an accident happened.
I went to the ward early morning. Siti is 22 years young, slender, with straight long hair, swollen face, abrasion and cuts on the face which were cleaned. She was lying on the bed in the green shirt, which is the same as every warded patient is wearing. Her mom, in baju kurung and tudung, slender as Siti, was seated beside Siti. Puan could be younger than my mom, but the look in her eyes added years to her face. When Puan saw us, she stood up and I looked at her and said “Selamat Pagi, puan.” Greeting is important. Do not be surprised in government settings, when the doctors go to see the patients, they will flip the charts, look at the files, check the x-rays, discuss something among themselves, document the progress or order more tests, check the patient and forget to speak to the family. Puan bravely nodded back.
I assessed Siti and I told them “If can, I’d like to discharge you today so that you can make it in time for Raya tomorrow. But first, we have to make sure that you are totally fit to go home. Is that ok?” I told them to come to my clinic for treatment the same morning.
In clinic, Siti, like all my patients, sat on my treatment chair. I looked closely, she got clear light brown eyes, which are pretty. On hindsight, I don’t think that’s contact lenses. Why would a hospital patient bother to be pretty in the ward after a disfiguring accident?
Rubini, my colleague, asked me “How bad is it? Her mom is crying on the phone…”
I replied “Not very bad, actually. She might not even need any surgery.”
I started to check and treat Siti accordingly while Puan stood in front of Siti and watch. Suddenly, tears were coming from Siti’s eyes. I lifted my hands from her face and gently patted her shoulder. I am sure my hands did not cause her pain, the pain came from the heart. I know I am nobody to say “It’s OK, it’s not that bad. Don’t worry” and all that nonsense. Perhaps it’s not right to say things when I myself do not understand the pain they are going through, it’s like adding salt to a wound. But then again, as their treating doctor, I am in the position to say something reassuring and comforting. Forget about what is right or wrong.
“It’s OK Siti. Everything will be OK.” Then I realized what actually triggered Siti to cry. She saw Puan crying in front of her. Puan began to sob uncontrollably.
It’s the eve of Raya. Her daughter is warded with an injured shoulder and disfigured face. Her son is in another hospital of another state, with broken limbs. What intended to be a joyous reunion became a tragedy. What pains a mother most is probably not the greatest physical pain she would ever have to bear, but to actually see her children hurt and in pain.
Puan’s heart broke because of Siti.
Siti’s heart broke because of Puan.
That’s family love, if you ask me.
At that moment, I myself almost cannot hold back my own tears. (almost la). I grabbed some tissue and handed them to Puan, who poured out her heartache to us. I did say something in return, trying to bring comfort, but I guess it made not much sense at that situation. A pat on the back may mean more.
I went back to treating Siti. “Siti, demi mak dan keluarga, Siti kena tabah ya…”
She nodded.
Selamat Hari Raya to all Muslims who are not able to be at home with your family.
aL is here 