(Continued from
Transferred)
I woke up the next morning with my surroundings already abuzz with hospital activity. The nurses were going on their morning rounds, pushing pills, doctors and interns visiting patients one by one, friends and relatives catching up on daily issues and myself, wondering what the hell was I doing there ** Actually it took me only one minute to establish where I was then. I added that last scene just for kicks.
I noticed that I wore the green patient’s robe though. Somebody must have slipped it on me last night, that included myself. As long as my ‘boxer’ was still on, it didn’t bother me.
Outside, the compound was also generating all sorts of sounds, mainly by vehicles fast and slow, silent and loud. ‘So this is what it’s like, waking up at the hospital, having spent a night in the general ward. I’ve always passed by this hospital in a bus and wondered how the patients were doing up in the wards, now I know” I told myself.
The ENT doctor came by and basically told me that there was nothing to worry about and I would be discharged sometime around noon. He told me to get plenty of rest and stick with the medication regime; pills and ointments. He also told me not to perform any rigorous movements for a while to help the healing process. I have no arguments there; slight head movements have given me hell so far. My vision would start to spin and all hell might break lose if I don’t stop, stay perfectly still and regain control. After scribbling something on my chart, he said “you feel dizzy when you move because of the blood clot in your ear. Give it time to clear. Other than that, you’ll be fine”. He smiled and left.
Breakfast was served but I was in no mood to eat. Moreover, sitting up proved to be a tremendous headache, but medication was motivation, so I endured.
My aunt and uncle soon came to visit me and eventually take me home. They brought a change of clothes, my toothbrush and my trusty glasses. “Can you get up?” Aunty Ben asked.
“It’s not pleasant but I don’t have a choice” I told her.
It was indeed unpleasant. After standing up I had to take a long pause to stop the spinning sensation. Then, like a very old man I took small steps, grabbing every solid bed frame all the way to the wash room. I changed clothes and brushed my teeth at the slowest pace with the least movement. I realized then, that I was at the beginning of a dreadful road to recovery and wondered how long the journey would last.
After some paper work and a very slow walk, I was on my way to aunty Ben’s house-location: 8th Mile, Ulu Kinta, merely 2 kilometers from Tanjung Rambutan. For non-Malaysians and the uninitiated, Tanjung Rambutan (Cape of Rambutan) is famous for the age old mental institution, aptly called Hospital Bahagia (Happy Hospital). I used to tell friends that I sometimes visit my aunt in Tanjung Rambutan and their instant response was “does she work there or is she a patient?”
I explained “Neither, she’s married to a man who grew up near that area. It used to be a country side. Now there are many resettlement and housing estates there. And theirs is located at 8th mile Ulu Kinta, 2 kilometers from the famous asylum”
“Owh…” is always the last word.
Now I say 8th mile, Ulu Kinta, near Tanjung Rambutan.
Moving along….
Word about my discharge reached some of my friends. And one certainly put it to good use when he was asked by a group of friends, “Hey, how’s Agus doing?”
“Oh, I think he’s doing just fine. Last I heard, he was discharged yesterday and now he’s in Tanjung Rambutan.” He said casually.
Everyone fell silent. Sorrow and sympathy masked their expressions. One even whispered “oh no…”
There was a long pause.
“He’s at his aunt’s place near there….” He delightfully added and burst into laughter.
The group was annoyed at this evil joke but they were joyful nonetheless.
Personally, I thought it was perfectly executed. An opportunity for a good spin of fun shouldn’t be wasted. I had a good laugh when he told me about it. If only I was there to see the looks on their faces. But then again, it wouldn’t be as effective would it?
I spent the rest of the weekdays and the whole weekend recuperating and getting used to the whole experience. Getting out of bed was a very slow process. I had to linger in bed for a very long time, sometimes up to an hour after I wake up, to avoid from stirring up my brain it seemed. Then I inclined myself a few degrees at a time before I could sit up straight. Soon I learned that if I first lean on my side and then get up sideways, I could avoid the dizziness, using my arm to push me up and support my lingering position at the same time. All however, must be done ever so slowly and gingerly.
I was very blessed to have my aunt and her family taking care of me. Everything I needed was there. Best of all, being married to an Indian family, she’s learned to cook some fine Indian dishes, apart from our traditional meals of course. Good food and quality rest, a perfect combination for a recovery and to reflect on my experience. Her place was nothing less than a sanctuary.
The Bloody Fall: Visions and conclusion
I started to get visions both when asleep and awake since my first day in the ward. Two remain prominent till this day.
In one recollection, I saw myself in the common area of our house. It was left empty save for a stack of boxes containing last semesters’ books and seniors’ study notes at a corner. With marble flooring and white walls, the room was very brightly lit by two fluorescent lights. There was a mattress at one side of the room where Michael sometimes does his revisions. I was alone, on my stomach, crawling toward the mattress. There was a pool of blood between myself and the mattress, about the size of an A4 paper.
Another scene that I recalled was set in the toilet, the squatting type, the size of a portable toilet often seen in construction sites and outdoor roadshows. It was also very late at night and I have just cleaned up. I remember getting up with both hands on either side of the walls, supporting my seemingly heavy body. I also remember pulling my shorts up as well.
I had the chance to ask Eric and Michael on different occasions during their visit at the hospital concerning these recurring visions that I have. Both confirmed that there was a pool of blood in the common area beside the mattress. They also acknowledged blood stains marked by a set of fingers on either sides of the toilet wall. And then they added another sign which made the combo sound very much like a case for CSI- a cutlery basket was found fallen from our dining table, scattering forks and spoons all over the dining area floor.
Suddenly I thought of something.
“Did you happen to have a film loaded camera and take pictures of the scene?” I asked Eric, my hopes high.
“No, we cleaned up everything. It didn’t cross our mind” Eric told me. There goes the crime scene. I was disappointed. I shouldn’t expect more from my housemates especially after all that they have done for me but I wished I had thought about it and made the request earlier. That would indeed make a good case.
I was puzzled and lost. With only eyewitnesses of the scene, it was very difficult to determine what happened to me late that night. Could I have got the injury at the common area, crawled to the dining table to get my balance, knocking the cutlery basket to the floor and finally made my way to bed? All this without waking up my room mate, Michael? Where does the toilet scene fit in? Did I relieve myself after the injury before going to bed?
Or was I injured at the dining area before going to the toilet and then proceeded to the common area where I fell and crawled into the bedroom? Does that make any sense?
I continued to have the same recollections at my aunt’s place, and back in Tronoh, each one giving a clearer picture of the two scenes. I also found bruise marks on my arms. This made me joke about self inflicted injuries with Eric sometimes, but the truth is I could never be sure of anything.
All kinds of theories played in my mind. Especially on what caused the bleeding. I even considered the possibility of being slapped on my right ear by a violent evil spirit!
When I finally got home I talked about the incident with my housemates. They were pretty freaked out about the whole incident. Even more so when I told them I had no idea how it happened. Michael told me he had to sleep with the door closed because my poster of the movie Sixth Sense (remember that one?) was facing him when the door was wide open. Creepy, I know. That’s why I sometimes half joked about the spirit slapping theory.
Friends continued to visit me as I was still absent from classes for a few more days. They kept asking what happened and if I knew how. I told them what I went through but only had theories of the actual cause. Even during a follow up with the ENT doctor, I was asked “so, do you finally know what happened to you that night?”
No, I still can’t figure out what actually took place. And if I was having some serious medical conditions which could have led to the incident, the doctor would be the first one to know and hand me the clues.
I have had clear and evident recollections but they’re still not enough to give me the whole picture. I have told you everything I know and experienced; how it felt like, but I am as puzzled as you are to this very day. The only difference is, it happened to me six years ago and you’ve only finished reading about it now. All I can say is that it was a bizarre experience for me and I call it ‘The Bloody Fall’.
Mostly made of wood, bamboo and palm leaves. Note the tribal carving on the right, in case you thought you saw a troll or a gnome.
A nice setup. Reminds me of the song 'Mamula Moon'.
