I wake up feeling sore all over. My neck still feels like there’s a brick tied to it. Much to my amazement, they don’t wake you at an ungodly hour over here. I see that breakfast is already on my table – a sup of Nescafe and some sandwiches. That is if you can call them sandwiches. More like dry bread with pasty tuna-like spread with a sliver of bitter cucumber. Gee whiz! The fun has just begun….
I forgo my washroom visit and wash my face with “air zamzam” instead, and proceed with breakfast. The usual watching of goings-on takes my mind elsewhere, a time when I was free from pain, so to speak. There are so many thoughts in my head that I feel that my head will burst open and all the words will come tumbling out, littering my white bedsheet.
The nurses have gathered all files, ready for the doctors’ visit this morning. I hope the doctors have something positive to say – like when I can move up to the Special Wards on Level 7. No such luck. The doctors tell me that me creatine level is still high, and I still have to be under their observation here. ‘Creatine’, whatever that means…. I only know it’s something to do with my kidneys. I hear that I may get a transfusion, but when I ask them the number of pints they’re giving, the doctor says she is not sure.
The old makcik is up to her antics again. She has been screaming and calling out names – of her children maybe. It’s always Ani, or Napsiah, or Sani or just Adik. The nurses have their hands full as it is, and she is really testing their patience. Earlier at about 1a.m., she threw her bowl and smashed it to the floor. I pity her. I say a small prayer and hope that Allah may bless her with some peace of mind.
Nothing spectacular happens other than an unexpected but extremely lovely surprise. I receive a bouquet of flowers from the President’s Office. The delivery man places the bouquet on my table and shows me the card. I am amazed at how beautiful and perfect Allah’s creations are. The bouquet contains my favourite flowers – the gerberas – or African daisies. They are the most resplendent peach petals with bright yellow centres. The bouquet also has fuchsia carnations, pale pink roses, yellow chrysanthemums, and two birds-of-paradise with a generous spray of fillers – small white asters, purple statices, ferns and artificial berries. Haha! You know you have a lot of time on your hands when you can use many words to describe a bouquet. My hubby will most probably have to take them home tonight. What a pity, they’re such a delight to look at. We’ll see if they’re strict about flowers like they were in the HDW.
I anxiously wait for hubby since he did not show up during lunch. Perhaps he is busy at work and can only come after. I pity him sometimes…. Rushing from here to there, trying to get things done. Maybe we should take a trip together when I’m well enough. Just the two of us to recuperate. I feel the need to anyway. Funny isn’t it? You come to the hospital to get well, but you come out feeling drained. Well, I feel that way all the time. I need some time to rejuvenate my senses. And where else can you do that but The Avillion, PD! Haha, now I sound like their ad.
Hubby comes and we get busy taking. Then as usual he goes for Asar prayers and buys some food for “berbuka”. I always feel out of breath when I talk to him, as there is just too much information that I want to relay to him and time is always eyeing us with jealous envy. I hear that mama was mad upon hearing of my transfer from the HDW to this ward. I know my mother, she is one fine lady, but sometimes she’s too emotional about things. I used to be just like her, but I think I have simmered down a little after getting acquainted with my hubby. He has always taught me to be patient. All things have a reason for happening a certain way. Who are we to question the plans of Allah? He has made things such for a reason. We may never understand His ways, but He knows best. We must have faith.
I call mama to wish her a selamat berbuka and she sounds happy and alright. She says that she will visit me tomorrow. Hurray!
Author’s note:
It is at this point in time that actual words were penned onto paper. The earlier entries were recollections from memory.
By the way, I learn something tonight. The nurse tells me that the makcik has been discharged for a while already, but the ward is still waiting for her children to come pick her up. It’s kind of sad, don’t you think? Maybe she will go home tonight. I pray that she does….
I try my best to sleep but I just could not do so. My neck hurts and I find no position comfortable for me to doze off. After many restless tossing and turning, I sit up. The fan above my head, without a doubt, makes the most beautiful ‘art’ in the ward. Its breeze moves the curtains in between the beds and makes, in turn, majestic wave-like shadows on the floor. The left side of my bed has rippling waves, incessantly rushing up and down. The shadows on the right side look like profiles of magnificently plumed birds, from a parakeet to an ostrich to a hornbill. Absolutely exquisite….
I see the daughter and granddaughter of the makcik have come to take her home. She looks so happy, her face plastered with powder and what looks like a little lipstick. She laughs happily as they push her on the wheelchair. I pray that she will always be contented.
