bisikan~rahsia

The diseased heart 3

Two days later, i went to check my patient’s progression, and he was ok, planned to be discharged that day. In my head were playbacks of the verse of apology i rehearsed the whole night for the ‘rude’ patient. Deep down in my diseased heart i was afraid that he will swear at me again, but i convince myself, i must do this, no matter what he’ll say, because it’s not his happiness that i want most, but God’s love and forgiveness.

so at his bed i stopped (after berpura2 checking other patients’ progresses), half hoping that he’s asleep so that i dont have to say what i wanted to say:

me: (OMG he’s awake!) ha samad (not his real name), macam mana hari ni? dah ok?
he: alhamdulillah (!) doktor, dah ok dah
me: emm, baguslah (swallowing a lump in my throat)
guess what he said?
he: doktor (looking away)
me: ya?
he: (looking at me) doktor, saya minta maaf pasal maki doktor hari tu (!!!)
me: (speechless)
he: saya tak patut buat doktor macam tu, tapi saya tak tahan sakit, gian lagi, bertindak luar kawalan, teruk betul. saya minta maaf ye doktor
me: (smiling broadly in an effort to restrain tears, trying to say something) haha (hanya gelak yg terkeluar)
he: (looking at me, waiting for asnwer)
me: emm, takpe.. saya pun minta maaf juga, tak dapat nak tolong awak
he: (senyap lagi)
me: minta maaflah, masa tu saya senyap je, tapi dalam hati dah macam2 juga, teruk juga saya ni..
he: takpe, terima kasihlah doktor sebab sabar dgn saya, hari ni pun datang jenguk lagi. kalau saya jadi doktor biar m***** je patient macam saya ni
me: haha (kali ni gelak betul) takpelah samad, saya pergi dulu. insyaAllah sakit awak cepat sembuh, awak pun doalah juga
he: (nodding and smiling)

i turned, and saw my patient. my eyes wet, this time with uncountable gratitude to God. he smiled at me, i smiled back. i went out of the ward.

“buatlah semua perkara dengan keikhlasan, hasilnya luar biasa” - pujangga Indonesia

in my heart, i prayed to God to give him hidayah and help him being a better Muslim. i also prayed to Allah to heal his infective endocarditis, as well as my diseased heart..

The diseased heart 2

After Maghrib prayer, i sat with frustration, frustrated with what had happened, frustrated with myself for being so frustrated.

i asked God, why sometimes people take our kindness for granted. why, sometimes people dont understand that we care, indeed, i care.

i still remember. starting my clinical year, i wholeheartedly instill a rule for myself: treat people with kindness, be good all the time. this came as the response to my own fear of becoming hated, lousy doctor, which i’ve met few times. i still remember the flame of hatred that burnt me when i once met a bad, rude, (and all the bad adjectives) doctor. i hoped and prayed not to be like him. and i still remember the kindness that heal me when i had a fall during my early childhood, the kindness of a concerned doctor which erased my fear and cure my pain. God knows how much i want to be good like her.

so i tried my very best to be good to patients. sometimes even doing things that is not my bussiness, taking bedpant for bedridden patient, changing wet linen protector when nurses are busy, aspirating out blood clots from obstructed bladder when houseman is not available. not taking into account the hours i spent to hear complaints about backpain, heartache, wear and tear strories from patients who are not even mine and i should not even care.

but i didnt mind, really. i think i was doing all these sincerely, very very sincerely. rather than walking around in the ward doing nothing, i think it’s ok, very very ok, to do all these. i just wanted to do good to patients. i just wanted to be a good medical student, and later, a good medical doctor.

but why, why oh why, God, this evening You arranged me to meet a patient whose need i couldnt fulfil, whose anger i couldnt prevent, to whom i tried to do good to but was paid back with swearings and humiliation?

and why oh why, God, this evening, You made me so fragile that i couldnt stand this humiliation?

oh Allah, “inna solati wa nusuki wa mahyaya wa mamati lillahi rabbil ‘alamin”, verily my prayer and my devotion, and my living and my death, are for Allah, Lord of the worlds.

oh Lord, “iyyaka na’budu wa iyyaka nasta’in”, Thee do we worship, and Thine help we seek.

in my prostration i cried for help, only to You do i worship, and only to You do i ask for help.

yes, You, only You..

oh..

no, maybe no. i felt my heart stopped beating, blood draining from my brain and my chest tightened.i finished my prayer feeling far from God. oh God, maybe i was not doing all these for You. i was not doing all these to serve You, to please You. i wanted to be apple of people’s eyes,  i did kindness to please them, to gain praises. but i forgot my sole intention of serving You, gaining Your redha, raising Your love. i forgot the purpose of You creating me and other people, to serve You, and only You!

oh God, You sent me that rude man to remind me! how could i arrogantly being so frustrated, feeling damn-humiliated just because of the wrath of man? how could i grieve when man takes me for granted while i take God for granted as well? how could i shamelessly beg for man’s approval and hated him when he did not, and forgot You to whom i should be ashamed of and to whom i should beg for approval? How could i crave for the love of man and ignore Your utmost love and care upon the whole mankind? how could i forgot You while breathing, walking, living unvoluntarily only with your liking?

how could i depend on man who was created by You, God, on whom i should solely depend?
how could i?
oh God, oh Lord, forgive me! forgive me..
Rabbi igfirlii ighfirli..

i sat quietly, looking deep into my heart, in which i found man, not God. i’ve put God aside to give man a place in my heart, my diseased heart.

my diseased heart is worse than infarcted, worse than man’s infective endocarditis heart. my diseased heart is the one which depends on God’s creation, rather than God, the Creator. it is the one which presumed man’s love as the power to continue beating, rather than God’s mercy which allows the beat.

ya Allah, ampunkan aku, hambaMu yang lalai dan lupa..
ya Allah, dekatlah denganku, jangan biarkan aku jauh lagi dariMu..
ya Allah, tetaplah dalam hatiku, jangan Kau isi hatiku dengan yang selainMu..

i prayed to God to ease that hardship, yes, it was so hard to continue breathing with hatred in my every God-granted breath, so hard to even lift up my face which was humiliated in front of men yet not ashamed to face God. i started to felt gratitude to Allah, for not leaving me in loss, and sending me that rude man for a slap on my face and a knock on my over-the-cloud head, to tug my feet and put them on back the ground which Allah had prepared for us to dwell on. i felt guilty to that man, and even more sinful to God..

 

(bersambung lagi)

the diseased heart

That day we had a discussion on infective endocarditis (infection of the heart valve), which is a common illness occuring among intravenous-drug-user (ivdu). my friends presented cases they encountered in the ward, with the different manifestation of the disease. Then i remembered my precious encounter with one infective endocarditis patient in the ward..

He was a man in his early-thirties, an active injection-drug user. he came with shortness of breath which turned out to be due to septic emboli (blood clot with bacteria) into the lung. and the cause of septic emboli in his case was infective endocarditis. but that was not all i wanted to tell..

One evening, i went to clerk my patient (we, medical students are allocated with our own patients to ask about their illness and examine). suddenly a man from the bed opposite to my patient’s shouted for my attention:
He: ‘doktor’, ‘doktor’!
Me: (coming to him, having no idea of what illness he had) ye, kenapa?
He: saya sakit kepala, sakit sangat ni tak tahan
Me: sakit macam mana tu? awak ada demam ke? (immediately checking his temperature & blood pressure chart, all normal)
He: sakit sangat macam nak meletup, saya nak ubat
Me: (checking his medication chart) baru ke? sebelum ni ada ubat? (dalam medication chart takde tulis pun painkiller)
He: takde, ni baru je, cepat ‘doktor’, saya tak tahan
Me: ok, kejap saya panggil doktor

Then i searched high and low for real doctor (we, medical students are not licensed to prescribe medication, even paracetamol), but couldn’t find one. i asked the staff nurse in-charge and was told that doctor was attending newly-admitted patient. (there’s only one doctor, and it was active day, and there were many new patients). i told about the patient’s condition, and she promised to inform the doctor. i then went back to the patient and told him to wait for a while, and asked him to rest (since i have migraine, i understood how the patient felt when he develop headache, but i could do nothing). Then i continued clerking my own patient.

Then the worse happened. The patient with headache shouted from across the cubicle, ” woi, tak faham ke, aku sakit kepala ni. b**** macam lembu, b*** tak guna, belajar pandai tapi orang kata sakit pun tak faham bahasa, (dan caci-makian yang lain)”

I was shocked. i looked at him, and he was looking at me. yes, it was me he was shouting and swearing at. why? because i didnt bring him painkiller? but i had if i could, and i could’nt! the swearing continued. other patients were looking at him, and me. i wanted to explain to him, but i was speechless. i could’nt look at him anymore, so i turned to my patient and continued asking questions while with strenuous effort trying to hide the wetness of my eyes and the tears that demanded flow. i asked questions with lump in my throat, and he detected my change of voice. my patient said, ’sabarlah dik’. oh yes, it’s only patience and istighfar that restrain me from crying and shouting back at him.

I went back with mixed feelings. i felt helpless. i wanted to cry with frustation. my chest ready to explode with fury. i felt humiliated. i had thoughts of regrets. why did i even bother to entertain him in the first place? honestly i was really concerned about his pain, and would do anything to help him if i could. but i couldnt! and i really tried my best to help him. and he said i am good for nothing. didn’t i reassured him? didn’t i at least try? why he did that to me?

WHY?

(bersambung)

huh..

i feel like losing contact with my relatives. for all these time, i didn’t have chance to attend their wedding, dont have their phone no to ask how things are going, dont know somebody is getting engaged, dont know what else i’ve missed….

hm..

being 21; young and beautiful (eh, beneficial)

yesterday was my 21st birthday.

my birthday is not a big thing for me (since i’ve been through so many birthdays before), but yesterday was different

_________________________________________

the night before 2nd december came, i’ve already received several sms-birthday-wishes from friends. i said, oh, tomorrow’s my birthday. but i didnt reply any of the smses (since i had no idea what to reply). then i slept.

i didnt know what made me awake, but i did at 2 am. 2am of 2nd december. i sat up, checked my phone inbox and slowly, repeatedly, re-read through all the birthday-smses i’ve received. then i realized, i AM 21.

and i wonder, what does it mean to be 21..

one of the smses said that i’m old now. i said to myself, no. i’m relatively older than myself before, but relatively younger than 80% of the population. so i’m still young. and what does it mean to be young..

i remembered a speech given by a guest in a daurah i’ve attended, about young people. he said, young should not mean immature, inexperienced. but young should mean strong and fresh. it should not potray that there’s still ample time to live, but it should depict so much things are yet to be done.

i asked myself, am i young and immature and inexperienced, or young and strong and fresh (and beautiful haha). that’s up to me to decide.

and i decided to be young and beneficial to the others (and beautiful as well).

________________________________________

2nd december morning came. the day was actually like any other day, only that i have full of hope and full of thought, and it was ok. and it was like my other birthdays with birthday-wishes, even from friends which i never thought they would ever know my birthday. and it was all ok.

that evening, i went back to find several birthday gifts in my room. they were nicely wrapped, and i was ok about that. after dinner, i sat on bed, and slowly, carefully, meticulous-to-avoid-any-tear-ly unwrapped the birthday gifts. they gave me bag, bedsheet and books, and they came with cards with nicely, sweetly written words, and i was really ok with that (i was happy and touched, in fact)

then i felt sleepy, and i slept, with the birthday gifts.

and again, i didnt know what made me awake, but i did, at 11pm plus. i sat up, looked at the gifts next to me, and a face came to mind.

the face of and old man i met in the hospital shop.

_____________________________________________

that afternoon, before class, i stopped at the hospital shop to buy some drink for myself. i also searched the rack for spray bottle (i wanted to buy one for a friend to help him take wudhu’), but didn’t find any. suddenly i heard an old man uttering “berapa riyal ni” (how much is this) to himself.  i looked at him, and he was holding a towel. i tried to look at the price tag, but couldn’t find one. then i looked at him.

he was old, shaky and unkempt, with a patient-tag at his wrist. so he’s a patient here. i wonder why he has to go down to the shop himself, he doesn’t have any relative, does he?

he put the towel back on the rack, and took another one. i went to the back, looking for the spray bottle.

i didn’t find any, and decided to just pay my drink. when i passed by the towel rack, the old man was still there, looking at the towel. i wonder, what takes him so long to decide, there’s only very limited choice of towel. he doesn’t have much money, does he?

i felt a pang of pity. i felt the urge to help him. but i don’t know how. i can’t just come up to him and say, pakcik tak ada duit ke? (you don’t have money, do you?). so i planned a drama, maybe i can queue before him and just pay for him. ok.

so i waited for him near the counter. but he didn’t appear. i went back to the towel rack. he was still there. one hand in the pocket, another holding the towel. i didn’t know what to do. i said, pakcik, tumpang lalu (excuse me), but he didn’t hear me, he was deep in his tought. so, he really don’t have much money. and i decided to continue my drama.

i waited near the counter, and he still didn’t appear. i was continuously looking at the back, so i was sure he hadn’t left the towel rack. an sms came in, a friend asked where i was, class will start shortly. suddenly the cashier, high-pitchedly, said, dik, taknak bayar ke? (don’t u want to pay?). i looked up, and she was looking at me. so i have to pay, and i have to leave for class. then i saw the old man, empty handed, now at the toothbrush rack. a call came in. it was my classmate. i ignored the call. the old man took a toothbrush pack, looked at the price, put it back. another call came in. i really have to go.

go where? to the old man and say, ‘pakcik let me buy you whatever you want to buy’, or to the cashier and pay and leave. i was clueless.

seconds passed by. i really really have to go. i went to the cashier, paid rm1.70 for my dutch lady milk, and left.

i felt guilty, but i left.

i left.

_____________________________________________

staring at the birthday gifts, i know this is not ok. these gifts are not ok at all.

how can i have many friends giving me presents, when somebody out there has nobody to buy him towel and toothbrush.

how can i be simply so happy, when somebody out there is not.

how can i receive so much, when i give out none.

i give out none.

and this is not ok. this is really not ok at all.

_____________________________________________

i collected the gifts, put them nicely in my locker, switched off the light, and sat on bed in the dark.

in the dark, i prayed for forgiveness for being so selfish, so ungrateful. i prayed for forgiveness for not choosing the right decision, not doing the right thing to do. i prayed for forgiveness for ignoring the old man. i prayed for forgiveness for being young but not beneficial.

Rabbi ighfirli, ighfirli

I hoped that tomorrow will be better for me. i prayed to Allah to give me strength. i prayed to Allah to give me wisdom. i prayed to Allah to ease my path. i prayed to Allah to ease my hisab. i prayed for Him to give me chance to do good.

i prayed for a better tomorrow. so that i could do more good. so that i could help more people. so that my life could be more meaningfull. so that my youth could be more beneficial.

Ameen

of rainbow and the cornflakes

there was a man who found a rainbow. but the rainbow did not attract him much, because at the end of the rainbow, a heap of gold sat. he wanted the gold for himself. it took him a long journey hiking up the rainbow, which he passed so hastily until he reach the end for the gold. but it was not gold. it was just a heap of corn flakes. and he missed the beauty of the rainbow.

when life pass by so rapidly, we run to catch up with life. and we run and run and try to catch up everything we could.

and with everyday running catching up with life, we have no time to stop. we forgot to look back on why we fell, we forgot to look at whatever that we have catched. and we forgot to realize on why actually we are running..

when life has been busy, take a break and sit. ask yourself what actually you are doing, and why, and what actually you are looking for..

About Muhammad

Two young men met in a road, and one of them offered a hand to carry the other’s loads since they were treading the same path. A few minutes passed and the man with the load asked his friend to chat about anything and everything, but not about Muhammad! Why? What is his problem with Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him)? What happened later?

It would be such a pleasure to have you come along with me,
I accept your gracious offer of kindness and company.
But as we walk along young man and as you help me with my load,
I’ve only one request as we travel down this road,

Don’t talk to me about Muhammad.
Because of him there is no peace and I have trouble in my mind,
so don’t talk to me about Muhammad
and as we walk along together we will get along just fine,
and as we walk along together we will get along.

That man upsets me so, and so much more than you could know,
I hear of his name and reputation everywhere I go.
Though his family and his clan once knew him as an honest man,
he’s dividing everyone with his claim that “God is One”

So don’t talk to me about Muhammad.
Because of him there is no peace and I have trouble in my mind,
so don’t talk to me about Muhammad
and as we walk along together we will get along just fine,
and as we walk along together we will get along.

He’s misled all the weak ones and the poor ones and the slaves,
They think they’ve all found wealth and freedom following his ways.
He’s corrupted all the youth with his twisted brand of truth
convinced them they all are strong, given them somewhere to belong.

So don’t talk to me about Muhammad.
Because of him there is no peace and I have trouble in my mind,
so don’t talk to me about Muhammad
and as we walk along together we will get along just fine,
and as we walk along together we will get along.

Thank you now young man, you’ve really been so kind
Your generosity and smile are very rare to find.
Let me give you some advice, since you’ve been so very nice,
From Muhammad stay away, don’t heed his words or emulate his way.

And don’t talk about Muhammad,
or you will never have true peace and trouble is all you will find.
So don’t talk about Muhammad
and as you travel down life’s road you will get along just fine.

Now before we part and go, if it’s alright just the same,
may I ask, my dear young man, who you are? What is your name?

Forgive me - what was that? Your words weren’t very clear,
my ears are getting old - sometimes its difficult to hear.
It is truly rather funny, though I’m sure I must be wrong,
but I thought I heard you said that your name is Muhammad……

Muhammad?

Ash haduallah ilaha il Allah wa Ash hadu ana Muhammad ur-Rasulullah.

Oh talk to me Muhammad!
Upon you I pray for peace for you have eased my troubled mind!
Oh talk to me Muhammad
and as we walk along together we will get along just fine,
and as I travel down life’s road I will get along just fine

no women no cry (?)

last thursday a junior sent me an email, pouring her heart out. apparently she had this problem which depressed her so much that she cries a lot (wasting so much tears). she was so depressed that she felt hopeless like nobody was going to save her and she was going to die of this unbearable pain, so to say.

and her email just triggered me to write this wanita dan air mata (women and tears) entry..

………………………………………………………..

actually that was the same day that i had a lecture on diseases of the eye, one of which is dryness keratitis. its when the cornea becomes dessicated and inflamed, and one of the causes being lacking of tears (due to dysfunctional lacrimal gland - the gland which produces tears)

talking about tears, i actually asked her (my junior) in my reply email about why does Allah created tears. some discriminative male chauvinists may say its for women to cry with (no women no cry, huh?). yeah, like men dont cry at all. anyway, the physiological function of tears is to protect the eye from dryness.

the eye is very sensitive. it cannot stand prolonged exposure to dessication, it will inflame it such happens. now, anybody doubt that the eye is a very important organ for us? i dont think so. its a window for us to see this beautiful world, the amazing colours, simply the great creations of Allah. but, why is it made so fragile?

is Allah that zalim to make us lose this nikmah that easily?

OF COURSE NOT.

that’s why Allah created tears. to protect this fragile eye.

thank to Allah that everything He created is indeed perfect!

………………………………………………………..

about women.

women are said to be soft and emotionally fragile, naturally. some women may ask, why did Allah created women to be such, isnt it unfair?

OF COURSE NOT.

look at the fragile eye, its protected by tears and the eyelids. other fragile organs are protected as well, by other protective mechanisms.

and same goes with women.if everything Allah created is protected, why not women, dont u think so?

and the SOLE PROTECTOR IS GOD!

yet many of us women dont realize..

……………………………………………………….

and i told her: cry if u want to. but as u cry, look at ur tears, and realize that there’s no reason for u to feel hopeless..

as Allah created the tears to protect ur eyes, ALLAH IS INDEED PROTECTING YOU!

of grapes and babies

Our previous PBL case was about a gestational trophoblastic disease, hydatidiform mole (the disease of the pregnancy, in which the baby failed to develop yet the cells become like a bunch of grapes, in malay community called ‘mengandung anggur’).

To make the story short, the pregnancy was aborted.

Looking back, i wonder why some pregnancy dont last, while many others do.

My mother once had a spontaneous abortion. I still remember the scene when she called me to the toilet and showed me a i-dont-know-how-to-describe slimey-bloody-small lump (if i should call it lump). I thought it was feces. But it wasn’t.

It was my lifeless yet-to-develop baby brother (or sister, i wouldnt know).

I asked my mother why he died. My mother said, because Allah choose him to die.

And i wonder, why did Allah choose me to live.. What am i living for?

After twenty years, after so much i had achieved, so far i had brought myself to, i sometimes forget to look back, to ponder on the reason of living, to be grateful of being alive.. And often i wonder. do i have a clear purpose of life, which answers the questions of why Allah had chosen me to live for at least this long, and what am i supposed to achieve throughout the years of living He granted me. and if i do, do i strive for it?

To make one me is not easy. Millions of sperms died all the way to reach the ovum, so much ovums died unfertilized, so much progesterone needed to maintain the endometrial bed. It took all mother’s strength to bear with the weight, back pain, morning sickness, psychological stress, not to give up the pregnancy. Along the way, the sperm can just lost its way to the ovum, the follicles can just fail to ovulate, the trophoblast can just form grapes instead of me! Mother can just say i’m tired and abort me! But there i was, a normal baby girl, safely delivered, ready to face this challenging world.

After all the tribulations passed through the journey of making one me, isnt life great? isnt life sacred? Isnt life precious?

Now, twenty years living on earth, i count back how much success i had achieved, how much obstacles succesfully overcame. Yet, how much appreciation i had treated life with and how much gratefulness i had paid to God?

…………………………………..

We may think its just normal to live, but we forget, while we continue living and living, many others failed as early as the very beginning of their journey of life. Thank God, we were born as babies, not grapes!

break

when the going gets tough, the tough gets going

and life keeps going

and trials are never ending

and when u keep going

u keep falling

so u have to keep standing up

again and again

but

sometimes

we just need a break..

kan?