Oon Yeoh has started blogging again. Check out his blog at http://oonyeoh.blogspot.com. This entry is also a plug for a forum that he will be facilitating. Please spread the word around and to those who may be interested. Details below:

“Chet has something for you at her weblog,” Marita told me.

Chet, Marita and I met at the One-Utama Bloggers Meet in January. Chet’s Chatter is one of those blogs that I visit regularly. As I surfed into her blog I was greeted by the title of her latest entry – “To Peter and his mother.”

After I finished reading and listened to the song she had linked at the end of the entry, tears welled up in my eyes. In all honesty, I would do anything just to hear Mum’s voice again, see her face for one last time, hold her tightly in my arms and tell her things that I have not had the opportunity to tell her.

Chet, thanks for bringing back some of those memories of Mum. Painful that they may be, they are also very cherished. Thank you for having us in your thoughts. If there is anything about this song that has touched me deeply, I am made to realise that Mum is with me and in me forever. I am her progeny and her blood flows in me. And yes, in my heart I hear her voice again.

Photo taken by Wuan at St. Francis Xavier Church.

For a good part of last month and this, I have been alternating between lofty spirits and heavy swirls of negativities. Depression has been a constant companion. I blame that on the weather, on medication, on diet, on health, on everything else. My conversations with God has been far and few in between. My spiritual rudder broke in the midst of all those disheartening events that had been plaguing me lately.

Most times, like a man trapped in quicksand, I trashed about, hoping, praying, and trying to prevent myself from sinking deeper. That, no doubt, was an exercise in futility. The more I struggled, the deeper I sank. On really bad days, I became extremely listless. My senses numbed and my reflexes slowed. Getting up from bed took great effort. That alone would drain me of spirit and energy.

On the odd days when the pall seemed to be lifting, I still get tired fast. Performing the simplest of tasks would leave me breathless. My attention span was brief at its best. I would rather listen to music than watch television. Too much stimuli would overload my senses to the extent that I would feel boxed-in. Nevertheless, on those few good days, living was more bearable.

Today – today is another of those odd days. Words, although they do not pour in torrents, are trickling in constant droplets, just enough for me to write coherently. The sun is shinning bright. The constant stream of breeze is surprisingly cool and refreshing. I am in a jovial mood. And I even had a t�te-�-t�te with God this morning, the first in many days. Things are looking good. If only everyday is like this.

Not wanting to let this buoyant mood go to waste, I finished a short inspirational piece that I began writing when Wuan was here in February. It is a reminder to myself of this faith journey with Jesus that I have wholeheartedly embraced. It is also to lead me back to the right path should my faith become shallow, like what has been happening lately.

Honour you father and mother so that you may live long in the land that Yahweh your God is giving you. (Ex 20:12 NJB)

For all the accusatory finger-pointing that I had directed at others, I am blameworthy of hurting Mum too. All the weeks that I had looked after Mum when she was acutely indisposed, I especially regretted an incident where I reproached Mum for being slow in getting up from bed for her breakfast.

I had prepared her meal and tried to coax her to get out of bed. She must have been in pain or still feeling drowsy from the effects of the painkillers. When I checked on her fifteen minutes later, she was still in bed. I was sleep-deprived. The open sore on my buttocks made sitting very unpleasant. I got impatient and annoyed.

I do not remember now what I said to Mum but up till today, I am still haunted by the pained look on her face - pained not from her illness but from the disappointment of how unsympathetic I could be to her condition. At a time when she needed me most, I had convincingly failed her.

She looked at me blankly after that and immediately I could hear her thoughts, “Did all those years of looking after you as a baby and then as a paralysed son mean nothing?” Or perhaps that was my scruples talking aloud inside me.

Honour your father and mother, as Yahweh your God has commanded you, so that you may have long life and may prosper in the country which Yahweh your God is giving you. (Deut 5:16 NJB)

I regretted that incident and another time, before Mum became ill, when we had a disagreement over an appliance that she had bought. I raised my voice and screamed at her. We did not talk for the whole day after that. Later in the evening, when we were having dinner together, I could see the hurt in her eyes. She cooked me a good meal anyway.

As I saw Mum slowly slipping away, I had wanted to apologise for all the things I did that had hurt her. I did not. There will always be another time, I reasoned. She never got to hear those apologetic words that would have soothed me now. This is something that I needed to do to find my own peace. I am truly remorseful that I will never get the opportunity to apologise to Mum again for those outbursts.

This I can never make amends to anymore. Mum surely would had forgiven me soon after each altercation. But can I forgive myself? My conscience pricks me each time the Fourth Commandment crosses my mind. Every time I think about Mum, thoughts of how I had inflicted emotional pain on her would come back to haunt me. Nothing I do now can change that fact. This is a guilt I will have to live with for the rest of my life.

For Moses said: Honour your father and your mother, and, Anyone who curses father or mother must be put to death. (Mk 7:10 NJB)

Surfing can bring joy when there is an inspirational story to perk up my days. It can also be upsetting to come across unexpected news of someone who had a hand in treating me a long time ago. I surfed into the homepage of the Neurosurgical Association of Malaysia from Malaysian Medical Resources. Going through some of the pages there, I came upon this page paying tribute to Dato’ (Dr) Nadason Arumugasamy. I was truly shocked to learn that Dato’ Aru had passed away in 2003.

After my accident, Dad went to consult Dr. Shanti, our family physician, regarding my condition. She recommended Dato’ Aru of the Kuala Lumpur General Hospital Neurosurgery Department. He was the first neurosurgeon who treated me and prescribed skull traction to stabilise my fractured vertebras. Till today, I have two small hairless patches on my scalp where the screws went in, the handiwork of Dato’ Aru.

I was under his care for only a few weeks. He went on leave after that and my case was passed on to Dr. Kazem Djavadkhani who was attached to the UKM at that time. I remember Dato’ Aru for his jovial demeanour. There was always a smile on his face and he only had soothing words to say when he made his rounds in the ward. As I read that glowing tribute to him, I was amazed by his accomplishments. This pioneer neurosurgeon has left a legacy that had elevated the field of neurosurgery in Malaysia to great heights. May his soul rest in peace.