One day in the last week of June 2003.

After months of uncertainty, things were beginning to look encouraging. They say bad things come in threes. That was the third time she was hospitalised. I was very sure she was going to pull through that third hurdle and come out stronger and healthier. All that was needed was for her to get a lot of rest and nutritious food. After those weeks of looking after her, I was sure cooking nutritious food to feed her back to the pink of health was not an impossible task anymore.

That afternoon, she looked cheerful, although still weak from the hypothermia ordeal a few days earlier. The two units of blood transfusion had turned her pallor cheeks to a ruddy pink. She had just begun to wear diapers a few days ago. Wuan had been cleaning her and changing her diapers since. In the weak condition that she was in, it was more convenient to use diapers. Within that short span of time, Wuan had worked those into a very efficient routine. I was glad for that extra help.

As usual, I brought her a flask of soup that I had cooked overnight in the crock pot. It was still piping hot. She took small sips. Even her appetite was getting better. Those were good signs. She could not sit up for long periods at a time. After Wuan had tucked her comfortably in the bed again, she was quiet for a while. I observed her from the edge of the bed. Indeed, she had not looked as good as that since she became ill. I nodded in gladness and consoled myself that all would be well again.

The more I gazed at her, the more I felt something just did not seem right. Her eyes were red and wet. She was sniffling. She took a face towel and covered her eyes. I tried to figure out what was affecting her to such an extent.

“Why? Are you feeling ill?”

She ignored me.

“Where are you feeling unwell?”

She sniffled even harder. I turned to look at Wuan. We were surprised at that sudden change of emotion in her. I was alarmed and did not know what else to do or say. I continued to observe her. A sense of hopelessness began to dawn on me. Those brief moments felt like it was forever. When I could not bear the thought of not knowing what was bothering her, I asked again, “Tell me where you are feeling unwell.”

She removed the towel and pointed to Wuan. “She is going back,” she said in between sobs.

Wuan and I looked at each other again. I signalled her to get closer. Wuan understood. She leaned over the cot side and gently said, “I will be coming back again next month.”

She continued to sob.

“When I come back,” Wuan continued, “I want to see you looking after the plants that I just planted outside the apartment.”

Her sniffling subsided. She wiped her eyes but avoided looking at us. I began to get worried. She was never like that before.

“When you are well, come stay at my place again,” Wuan added.

She was a strong woman. It took a lot to make her weep like she did. All through her illness, she never had once complained or whined about it except that time when she suffered hypothermia and cried out for me again and again. Fortunately Wuan was there to console her. I just sat beside her and kept crying then because I thought she was really going to die. She took all the discomforts during her illness good naturedly. Never once did she make me do more than I could manage when I was looking after her. I knew that she had tried hard to not to trouble me. She did not. On the contrary, it was I who had troubled her all my life. What was a few weeks of looking after her compared to all that she had given me?

I have never seen her in a sadder disposition than that afternoon. She was a simple woman with simple needs. She was seldom in want of things. She had always been cheerful and optimistic in spite of the many adversities that she encountered. I had wondered why she had felt such unhappiness knowing that Wuan could not stay in Penang more than one week each time that she visited. Perhaps she knew something that we did not. Perhaps she already had the realisation that those would be the last few times that she would ever see Wuan again.

Two years ago today.

It is just another date, I kept telling myself. In my mind, it is not. I am becoming more restless as the day nears. Anxiety, despair and hopelessness all are beginning to descend on me like an inescapable storm. It is dark, it is intimidating and I am scared. Suddenly, I feel so lonely here in Penang.

There are these throbbing aches - in my heart, in my abdomen, everywhere. I sat still and closed my eyes hoping that they would go away. They ached even more. Two years on, images of those last days are still running in an unending loop in my head. I knew it would not be easy but I did not know it was this difficult.

Each time I wheeled across the long corridors the pungent odours of antiseptic, medicine and death assailed my nostrils. Those were the least of my worries. Those times, there were only two thoughts that swirled in my head as I got nearer to the room. Fear and hope, two opponents from extreme ends yet were so intermingled in me that I was confused beyond comprehension.

The inherent fear was to enter the room to see an empty bed. It was not something I was hoping for but was prepared to reluctantly accept. Seeing that familiar face was a great relief but that morning, two years ago, it was different. The cheerful cherubic mien after the blood transfusion was no longer there. In place was a face that showed resignation.

“Take me home. I want to go home. If I die I want to die at home.” Those were the only words she kept repeating in her soft weepy voice. Although I had expected the worst, those depressing words were completely unexpected. Her dying did cross my mind only to be hushed away most times by my optimist side. She was a fighter. I had expected her to live on for many years still. And there that morning her voice was one of utter defeat.

Were those months that I had looked after her in vain? Did I not do enough? If there was one thing that I did not do enough of, it was not praying for her to all the Gods I that knew. Was Buddha listening? Was the Goddess of Mercy listening? If I had not prayed hard and sincere enough, I was willing to do it again and even more fervently. I felt so forsaken, abandoned. Those sporadic times when I was young and innocently kneeled in prayer with jossticks for the health of my parents were absolutely in vain. Had they listened? At that very moment, the burden of many months felt even heavier. Strength just gushed out from my every muscle. I felt drained, totally. There was nothing more fearful than losing the person who had been my source of strength when I needed it most time and again.

I would have given anything for her to be well again. No sacrifice would be too great for the woman who had selflessly given me thirty seven years if her life. My heart was heavy. I looked at her. There was only pain in her expression. This chubby woman I had known all my life had been reduced to skin and bones. Her once lush grey hair was sparse, clearly revealing her scalp. For the first time, I looked at her for the longest instance that morning. I had hoped to remember every crease, every wrinkle, every feature that made the sight of her so soothing in my mind lest I never get that opportunity again.

Tears filled my eyes as I got closer to her. Never once had I expected to see her in that condition. Her hand was still as fleshy and warm. That was the hand that had cleaned me when I excreted all over the bed. That was the hand that had cooked for me and fed me when I was hungry. That was the hand that had stoked the charcoal stove to make herbal soups for me. That was the hand that had nursed me innumerable nights when I was unwell. That was the hand that I had stopped holding many years ago. That morning, I wished I could hold on to that hand forever.

“If you die, who is going to look after me? Who is going to care for me? Who is going to love me?” I had hoped those words would spur her on. That was the second time I had tried to psych her up this way. It was effective the first time. Obviously it did not work anymore. She was too weak to fight on. Defeat was written all over her face. I felt defeated too. I had thought that by triumphing over my disabilities nothing else could crush my spirits. Evidently this was one that did it very convincingly. I was a thoroughly broken man that morning. I was heartbroken. My spirits were absolutely crushed.

“I cannot help it if I have to go,” was her feeble reply.

I let her hands go and turned my face away. I did not want her to see the tears that were streaming down my cheeks. I did not want her to see me sobbing. I did not want her to see the disconsolate look in my face. Truly, she had given up. Those words cut deep into me. I could not bear to see the pained look in her face. I could not bear to let her see the pain in mine too. How did we reach that stage? It was all a blur to me.

“I want to go home. Ah Choon, take me home, I want to go home.”

That was all she had in her mind – going home to die. Should I? All her life, she only knew how to give selflessly. Never once had she asked anything from me. Take her home I will, to recover. I will fulfil her wish to go home only. I will not let her die but she knew better. She knew her time was almost up.

The many times that I have been to Kuala Lumpur, there were five things that I had always wanted to do. One of them is going up to the Petronas Twin Towers skybridge. In between conversations with SK at the Mid Valley Bloggers Meet, Wuan had told SK that we had wanted to make that visit but the tickets were all given out for that particular day. Incidentally, SK�s office is located in one of the towers and he offered to get the tickets for us.

On the morning of June 22, SK got his colleague to get five tickets � one for himself, Wuan, William, Cynthia and me. However, each person is only entitled to collect one ticket only. Hence, his colleague roped in another four to stand in line for the tickets. Thank you guys. Much appreciated. However, SK later discovered that all he needed to do was to get his office administrator to book the tickets for us.

The elevator ride up to Level 41 was one of the smoothest I have ever experienced. There were no sudden jerks or creaks along the way. In fact, I did not even feel it moving. The skybridge consists of two decks connecting both towers at Level 41 and 42. It was a little hazy that day and rather cloudy too. Despite the Golden Triangle�s innumerable skyscrapers, there are still large areas with low-rise buildings.

I wished I had taken more photos but I did not. Wuan took many more. Perhaps I was too awed by the panorama. Besides, I did not have a good angle to shoot from. The railings on both side of the skybridge blocked a good part of my view. We were allowed only about ten minutes up there because of the many groups that were still waiting for their turn. Each group was allocated a time slot and given tags with different coloured lanyard for identification.

Visitors were allowed to linger at the lounge after that. The lounge consists of several display areas complete with documentaries on the construction and other technical aspects of the Petronas Twin Towers. There is a gift shop with all sorts of Petronas Twin Towers souvenirs. Wuan and I bought four postcards with views of the towers. We had an informative and entertaining afternoon there. Thanks SK.

Related entry:
Saturday At Suria KLCC
Blackout At Suria KLCC

Dusk at the Northam Beach Cafe.

If success in life can be measured by the number of friends one has, I must be on a roll lately. After a fruitful one month in Kuala Lumpur where I got acquainted with more bloggers than I could count with all my fingers and toes, I came back to Penang and got an invitation to a gathering organised by Kuan Aw yesterday evening. He is the founder and current Deputy President of the Society of Disabled Persons Penang (SDPP).

L-R: Yeap, Me, Kuan Aw, Win Hon, Anne and Christine.

It was a casual affair at the Northam Beach Cafe with some of Kuan Aw’s friends and his two guests from Kuala Lumpur – Christine and Win Hon. That was the first time I have met any of them including Kuan Aw. Twenty years being a disabled and that was the first time I have attended a gathering where most of the guests are in the same condition as I am. We had an interesting and enlightening time sharing our lives and the difficulties that we encountered.

L-R: Me, Christine and Kuan Aw.

One thing we all agreed on is that much can still be done to improve the mobility of people like us. The government is simply not doing enough to make it easy for us to live independent lives. The SDPP has been active in promoting access for the disabled in public places here but we foresee a long battle ahead. Facilities for the disabled are put up only to comply with legislations. Many of these are not constructed to specifications thus rendering them non-functional and dangerous at times. Such is the sad state of affair where the disabled community is concerned.

Raja Munir took time away from his busy schedule to drop in to see me just now. Peter was here too and amongst others, we discussed the Systematic Evacuation Plan initiated by Mack. I was also happy that I could get Mack on the phone and introduced him to Raja Munir. Both of them have been very active in promoting this cause which will not only benefit me alone but the thousands of mobility impaired persons who have no choice but live in high-rise dwellings. These two are fine examples of caring Malaysians. Together with the many bloggers who have adopted the yellow banner in their site, the voices of the silent minority are finally being heard. Thank you for making a difference.

Related category:
Building Manager From Hell

Raja Munir’s account of our meeting:
Meeting Peter