Apologies and etc

Apologies
I believe, I owe everyone an explanation, especially those who humoured my non entry below! Thank you. It all started when I was still in London, frantically trying to post pictures of events during Malaysia Week in Covent Garden. It was a futile attempt and I thought I had deleted the posting – but – hey presto! Thank you!

So, here I am back in hot and humid Kuala Lumpur trying to compete with headless chickens running around not knowing what to do. It has been my intention to visit my ailing Mak and MAS’s ridiculously cheap fare made that possible, leaving all my sayang mamas behind with packages of Brahim’s curry and asam pedas.

During this visit too, I have been offered the opportunity to perform my umrah, Insyaallah and that will be tomorrow. I have not spoken about it mainly because I needed to see the visa. Alhamdulillah, I have got it now and I need your doas to accompany me there.

It is true what people say about how we as human beings can only plan, but it is HE who decides what happens. Mak fell ill, seriously on the third day after my arrival and was hospitalized. Unlike my other siblings, I had never looked after her and I believe this was my pay back time. Let me recall my moments with her.

Moments with Mak
My flight from London was uneventful and I landed at 2.30 pm. By four I was at the front door and was delighted to see Mak walking slowly to the door to greet me. But she was coughing. She was very happy that I was going to perform my umrah and couldn’t stop recounting those journeys she herself made several times. I was on the phone with Mak Andeh, when she came over and started caressing my back. And she held my hand, slipping in a couple of RM50 notes. She said, it was for me to spend for my Umrah and from then on, I couldn’t speak for the lump that rose in my throat.

Moments with Mak can be summarized as one full of anxieties, guilt, sadness and spurts of joy and laughter. There were times when her coughing made her gasp for breathe and left her weak and quite frustrated. During times when I ventured out to Kuala Lumpur, I received calls from my siblings to come back as she was unwell. And went back, I did to find her smiling her sweet smile on the sofa and chiding me for escaping to the city. It was apparent that she wanted me around and not traipsing all over Kuala Lumpur like I used to. But there were things that needed to be done.

I attended a three hour crash course on Umrah at the Tabung Haji building last Sunday and felt a lot more confident. But after that I received a text message saying that Mak was admitted to Putra Jaya Hospital. Thank God for the ERL and I was there in no time.

I didn’t know it was possible for her to look even more frail than before. But there she was surrounded by my siblings and nephews and nieces. She was there more than for just her coughs. Her lungs were showing things we didn’t know exist and a condition we didn’t want to acknowledge.

So, It was my turn to stay over at the hospital to look after her. Shamlessly I pleaded with my sister to stay back with me and we persuaded the Head Nurse to allow both of us to stay. So, while one of us stayed by her bedside, one would be in the TV room. It was during one of my breaks that I watched My Team being demolished by Malaysia. Not impressed at all.

Mak coughed throughout the night and the needle they inserted for her blood transfusion was beginning to hurt her. She cried out in pain and shamelessly, I cried too not knowing how to take the pain away from her. The next day, I was left on my own to tend to Mak.
The cough mixture she was given helped and we had a wonderful chat about how wonderful her voyage on the Bunga Raya was in the late sixties.

She spoke about the excitement and the joy, even about forgetting all of us at home, when she embarked on her first pilgrimage. It was fun, by ship, she said.

“When we reached Aidan (for that was how she pronounced it) little boats with goodies approached the Bunga Raya and they would hoist long poles with basket to show their wares. We’d put our money in and lower down the basket,” she said, her memory of that afternoon at the port, as clear as it had happened yesterday.

She recalled how, at seven months pregnant, she persisted to perform the Haj, she told about her delivery in the small white tent in Arafah, aided by a midwife from Perak. She reminded me of doas and what to say and do where. I could listen to her forever, sitting there by her hospital bed, just the two of us. This pricesless moment with Mak was hundred times better that the three hour session I had with the Ustaz. This was my Mak telling me what to do and what to expect.

I spent another evening alone with her, watching her sleep as the medication they gave her took effect. There were times I could read the book on how to perform the Umrah, and there were times I could mark exam papers that I had brought back with me. But most of the time, I sat there looking at her, wondering where did the strong woman in that small frame go. She was quiet the whole day, not as chatty when I came to take over from my sisters. My immediate task: Help Mak put on the nappies. And with that they left.

With four children, I should be an expert at putting disposable nappies. But the next few minutes showed how wrong I was to assume. One look at the nappy, my face crumpled as I didn’t know which side should be at the bottom. And one look at my face, my Mak went into stitches laughing so hard that it could have been a scene from a sit com. We tried this way and that and still it didn’t look right. And it didn’t help that Mak was rolling with laughter, wiping tears from her face. Two wasted nappies and I decided to swallow my pride and called in the nurse. Phew! At least I made her laugh.

The next morning, the doctors made their rounds. And for the first time I asked them about the true nature of her illness. And Yes, we are talking about the BIG C, said one doctor, handing me a tissue as I burst into sobs. It then became official. And from that moment on, I am more determined to make my journey there and be there before the Kaabah and pray that my Mak be spared of any kind of pain. Please doa for me and with me.


Kak Teh meminta ampun dan maaf daripada semua kalau ada silap dan salah dan terkasar bahasa.