A bleeding brain

My father in law is currently in the intensive care unit for a hypertensive bleed. He presented with repetitive vomiting a day before with minimal body weakness. The alarms starting ringing when he was difficult to rouse for Zuhur prayers. My MIL couldn’t seem to wake him up. He would open his eyes and appear to want to make some movement but unable to do so.

My mother in law then proceeded to call his sons, the teachers and the doctor (my husband). His alertness level was assessed by my husband but found to be at a poor score. They called for an ambulance via MECC.

FIL was brought to red zone and intubated immediately to secure his airway. Apart from the usual cocktail to sedate and paralyze a patient, he did not require any blood pressure lowering agents nor an inotrope. He was pushed for a CT brain and a bleed was detected.

Husband read the CT scan film himself based on what he learned as a medical officer in ED before and gave us his reporting on our family group. ( He is now a public health specialist) It was good to know that there were no cell infarcts and that the basal cisterns were open . Still, my FIL was referred to the neurosurgical team in Seremban for expert opinion. Deep down in our hearts we know it will be a conservative management.

24 hours later he was weaned off his sedation. My FIL was slowly waking up and today he was good enough to be extubated. We don’t know when he will be allowed home though. It was a wake up call for all of us.

Not to take our parents for granted.

Sometimes we still see them in the lens of being their children. That we are kids. Young. We think they will be around longer and will only die when they are older. We forget that over 60 is already old and the matters of Life and Death is in Allah’s hand regardless of your age.

Secondly, I was amazed at how calm my MIL was in this situation. She was still able to giggle as she narrates how she and the grandchildren tried to wake him up from his sleep the day he was brought to hospital. Her coping mechanisms are admirable.

Thirdly, I saw how his small community came to his side. His Geng Surau. Without having to ask, they have already initiated upon themselves to solat hajat for my FIL. I don’t think it would be the same in my neighbourhood if something were to happen to my own family. Maybe it is time to be nicer to the neighbours and participate in activities of Geng Surau in my area. Biar orang kenal sikit sapa duduk rumah yang ada pokok mangga gondol tu.

Above all I learned that I sayang my FIL. In fact, I couldn’t wish for anybody else to be both my parents in law. With so many things you read on social media, I cannot help feeling syukur for what has been given to me. They have never interfered in how we choose to run our family. Their house is always open to us children and grandchildren. They give sound advice indirectly. They do not leech on their children’s money and are financially able on themselves. The list goes on.

I should also mention that I am grateful that my husband is mine. He is the best advocate anyone could ever wish for especially at times when you cannot speak for yourself. He is so thick skinned, confident, firm , eloquent with thankfully superb clinical acumen at the same time.

Yerlah kan.. ala2 cocky tapi bangang mmg org kata mengundang nista lah jawabnya.. kang tak pepasal physician kata family fussy.

Leftover food and the Wife

When the wife is miserable, there is a fat chance that the source of her agony comes from the husband. Vice versa. Unless he doesn’t love her anymore thus stress is more work related.

This is the cause of my misery today. Leftover nasi penyet pecel lele. This situation could have been avoided IF the husband has been frank in saying “ I don’t want any lunch today BECAUSE I got jamuan back to back at the office”. Instead, he also placed an order and this thing has been in the fridge for two days since Friday.

Knowing him, he doesn’t eat old food. He only eats fresh food and yet when he prepares a meal, he COOKS LIKE HE IS FEEDING THE HOMELESS IN THE WHOLE CITY! It is not funny. Cause I don’t like to waste food and regardless how self-sacrificing I become by eating the leftovers from my kids and from his overzealous cooking, I still need to control my calories.

Even after I finish this meal, I have 3 CONTAINERS of BIHUN in the fridge which are leftovers from yesterdays BREAKFAST! God knows what he was thinking when he decided to cook ONE BIG PACKET OF BIHUN !!! Perhaps he was thinking it’ll be a good idea to eat it for lunch AND DINNER but turns out he only had it for lunch. His food portion estimates are soooooooo off. So inaccurate. And yet, for today HE ENTHUSIASTICALLY FRIED CEKODOK IN THE PORTION OF HALF PACKET OF 1 KG FLOUR. CAN YOU SENSE MY AGITATION HERE? Thankfully, that cekodok dah habis or I would have thrown it to the monkeys at the nearby graveyard.

So yes, I am seriously considering getting my hands into composting leftover food. At least, it will make me feel better knowing that the food will not go to waste and recycled into some sort of nourishing source for the soil and plants.

I saw a friend on Facebook posting on the Bokashi ? method. Then, there are other companies also promoting their form of composting for domestic wastes. Prices were steep compared to the type of compost in they sell on Shopee. I am confused. I need to read more about composting my food safely and use the ‘ends’ of it for my mini garden.

Do you have any experience of doing your own compost? Share with me your experience in the comments.

A Dream Affair

I rarely dream. Maybe because I rarely get into a deep sleep, or so I thought. Or my mind has nothing new, interesting or profound to process on that particular day. Perhaps I should read up on the mechanisms of dreams and anything along those lines to understand it better.

A few nights ago, I had one of those precious moments of dreaming in my sleep which left a flutter in my heart. It has been a while since I felt this jittery. The kind of feeling where the world feels so nice and that you are walking on the clouds sort of thing. The best thing is the memory of the dream did not fade away and I could still remember a huge chunk of it even after I woke up. In fact, the impact was so strong that I long to meet this notable character again in my sleep.

In dreamland, I am single. The vibe just seems like it in there and I was assuming the role as a university student. I live alone in a rented dilapidated room which I managed to redecorate under a budget to make it look like a really nice place to stay with my fairy lights, feathery rugs , comfortable bed sheets and cute home living accessories. I was apparently a loner with no close friends until this man, also from uni stepped into my life.

He was tall and his face had very pointy features. He had keen eyes, a sharp nose, a small band of thin moustache over his lips and stood out handsomely with a nice build. He was not hugely muscular but he had that athletic aura and shape underneath his long sleeve shirt. The chest was full if you get what I mean. His hair was short but not army-like. It was at a nice length just above his nape of the neck. He had fair skin, a warm smile, a deep voice and strong looking hands with the veins sticking out. And if anybody is curious, no, he doesn’t look like Yeo Jingoo in Hotel de Luna. It is not the after-effect of the drama.

I couldn’t remember our exact conversation but it led to him saying, ” I really like you, I want to know you better”and spend all my hours with you. Time passed in dreamland and suddenly we were very close. Something like Teman Tapi Mesra (TTM). He helped me fix stuff in my room, painted the walls etc. From what I gather, we were never s3xually involved, not even exchanging hugs or him stealing a kiss but he was there most of the time. And I felt safe with him. He accompanied me while I study, he got me food and cute stuff, he walks me back to my place, he listens to my woes but what got me fascinated with him in dreamland was the way he looked at me. I felt admired, loved (sayang) and cared for.

Of course in reality I get all these attention and comfort from my dear husband too. Minus the jitters because you have gotten so accustomed to each other. It was only later when I woke up I felt a bit guilty for feeling so overjoyed with how my Dream Man treated me. I was his queen. It almost felt like I was having an affair with a 3rd party.

I tried to find him again in my dream having forced myself going back to sleep again but he didn’t resurfaced. Maybe in another dream episode one day.

Patience my heart

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I am trying very hard to console myself right now. And not to regret the choices I made for 2018. But it is soooo hard my friends. I have been crying alone in my study area for the past 3 nights or so. My husband and kids are usually asleep by then. I feel 2018 is very overwhelming and yet I am expected to be calm and on top of my game. All the time.

Recently, I have to be patient with a lot of people. My husband who is gradually acquiring his Set of Attitude as a Specialist. My parents who are just, I don’t know, hmph. My brother who do not want to be helped. My work demands and related things I still struggle to understand. To them, it’s just another day. Another conversation. But to me, at the other end, I had to play along. Reserve my opinions. Suppress my anger and frustration. Because an honest comment is not everyone of them needs right now. My way of thinking and working stuff out is not the way ‘successful people’ do things. I have to buat pekak to certain condescending words as well. In the end, I yang makan hati. I yang mengalir air mata. Without them knowing it.

And it doesn’t get any better when today, I missed my son’s special occasion to receive 1st prize in his year. He came out top and I was not there to see him on stage. Because I was at work. I just hope he understands that Mummy did not have a choice. That I will try better for his next big day. I will plan my leave better.

I try to be composed and collected as a wife and mother. As a female medical doctor. As a daughter. I have been trying to shut down negative thoughts. Satan’s evil whispers. Urging me to run and leave. Not so much as jumping a bridge or killing myself. But to run. Leave the state. Like park my car at a far place, hitch a ride and just go missing. Or use my passport to cross the border ,go missing and resume a new identity. Or as simple as not arriving to work one day, only to be realized by people who care that I’m missing 8 hours later. If ada orang kisahlah. 

2018 was meant to be a year of change for the better. At the moment, I still feel that there’s a lot to manage. I find I cry more this year hence I searched for Allah more this year. Asking for His Mercy, His Benevolence and His Rahmat.  I have a problem in trusting people hence it is difficult to confide in someone. And it hurts a lot when you thought your husband, your supposed best friend and confidante has belief’s not consistent with yours.

Then aku nak cakap2, cerita masalah aku kat sapa? Babi?

 

Anyway, this is just a phase. Don’t take it seriously.

Perhaps this is PMS. A horrible PMS. Or a brain tumour affecting my emotions. InsyaAllah, I will feel and force myself to feel better in the next 24 hours. Patience my heart. Sabr. 

 

The pursuit of love in between him and him

My teaching session finished an hour earlier on Friday. So I made my way to Tesco to withdraw some money at the ATM machine and get my fix of carrot juice. I wanted my juice to go but the lady at the cashier forgot and not wanting to trouble her further, I just took the glass to the nearest table and took a sip.

Then this song belted out in the background of the already noisy food court. I sang along softly to my favourite part, “what are you waiting for???” and almost immediately I couldn’t help reminiscing on my past. The time when I was a fish in the sea (again) after a breakup with my asshole 1st boyfriend.  Yes, he broke up with me over Yahoo Messenger on the weekend just before my exams. Bangang rite. I think I resorted to controlled self destructive behaviour and made a bonfire with his paraphernalia.

A few months later, I had a string of dates with frogs to choose from. Hoping that one will become my prince. There were a few ” I will call you later” sorta dates. Sometimes from myself, others from them men. You just get that vibe of a relationship not happening from that one date. Things that put me off? Likely he had an opinion for almost everything on the planet, force me to talk about myself too much, too lackadaisical, pry too much on my previous relationship, too Islamic (I know, sorry).

Then there were those who made the initial cut. Only to discover later that he hates your housemates or your best girlfriends. Ada ke cakap “gelak kuat, macam laki, I tak suka”. Wahhhh.. goodbye dear. No future dates. No one gets to say bad things about my friends.

Then there were experiments. Well, just one. We were both from very different backgrounds. He was a non muslim to start with. In a way it was one of those relationships where you’re just not sure where it would be heading. We didn’t have a name for our relationship. If people ask whats with him having lunch with me – he will reply “pengyao (friend)“. Yet he treats me like I’m special. Vice versa. He would call me up at 0500AM as I get ready to go to work to take the morning bloods of sick babies – just to say Hi. We would have dinner together almost everyday even when we’re oncall, where we would steal time just to have 5 minutes together. It was nice while it lasted. Then after he went back home to Miri to visit his parents – the romance just ended. Like that. No proper goodbyes. It just ended. I think we were both puzzled as to why it ended. Wait, I think I know why. I found out he was seeing another girl there. Someone of the same background. Takpela.. I faham. I redha. I think the soundtrack of my life at the time was Black Eyed Peas song “Meet me halfway” for this particular chapter. Frust jugak but terkawal. We can still work together as housemans.

In less than a year, I met my husband during my surgical posting. He was far from romantic but he was responsible. And intelligent. He was willing to replace my partner in the operating theatre who was on Emergency Leave (EL) that day. Coincidentally we were scheduled to be in the OT of a very boisterous and demanding surgeon that no one liked. I called up the ward asking for a volunteer and was prepared to be ‘bam-booed’ the whole day until this tall, gallant, fearless, chivalrous guy by the name of Syafiq came. He was technically towering over the shorter surgeon. The mood in that OT somehow changed – I was suddenly the reliable houseman who could hold the camera very still due to my low pusat graviti and my husband was very alert and quick to obey instructions.

We didn’t start dating until I left my surgical posting though. And the rest is history. Our love story was not dramatic enough for Ellie Gouldings song. Nor is Michael Bubles Home cause that reminds me of Italy (another wonderful chapter of my life). OMG.. we don’t have a soundtrack for this chapter of my life. I need to find one.