Sudah Jatuh, Ditimpa Tangga Pula (It Never Rains, But It Pours)

Sorry about the lack of posts recently. Work, you know. And friends visiting from the US.

Which is why this story has resurfaced.

It Never Rains...

The start of university was like the start of any school term in a new school. You quickly identify who are the cool ones, the fun ones, the Mandarin speaking crowd, the sporty crowd, the geek crowd, the Christian crowd. And then you make your friends.

I must say that as a batch of medical students, though, we were fairly friendly with each other across the cliques.

S was one of the nice guys in our batch. So nice in fact that we made him our batch representative. He was jovially plump and friendly to all, and his gentle nature and ready smile made him well-liked by all of us.

The private university's medical students were divided into two groups at that point of time - those who were really well off; and those whose parents had to slog their way through life in order give their children more opportunities than they ever had themselves. S fell into this latter category.

Which was why it became difficult for him when his Dad passed away unexpectedly in our first semester.

We tried to be there for him and to offer him words of consolation, but there was an obvious cloud of grief shadowing S during those dark days.

His smiles were now sparse and brief, and seemed forced when they did appear.

Sudah Jatuh

It was one of the small written tests for first semester , and both S and I were a little late to the test. It had been raining a little that day, which accounted for an unusual amount of traffic.

We rushed past the security guard at the door, giving a fleeting greeting as we ran hurriedly up the stairs. I was up ahead when I suddenly hear this crash behind me. It was that sickening dull thud of skull hitting tiled floors.

I turn around and I see S sprawled on the floor, his eyes grimacing in pain, his lower body lying up the steps while the upper half of his body was still on the landing.

I rush back down, my pupils dilating, my heart rate quickening. The security guard is at her feet, and some of our lecturers are streaming in to the sight of S lying on the floor. They all rush to his side, and kneel, checking his pulse and breathing.

An ambulance was called and arrives about half an hour later. He was brought to one of the hospitals in Cheras, and I followed in the ambulance. The test would have to wait. They would understand.

Ditimpa Tangga Pula

I stood next to S in the Emergency Department, trying to make light of the situation as nurses bustled around me. He groans but does not make any meaningful conversation. Someone attempts to call his family.

It is about twenty minutes before he is seen by the doctors. They say that it is probably just a concussion, and would just observe him for now.

I stand at his side, holding his hand, and trying to make him laugh. He smiles at one or two things as he begins to wake from his concussion.

"Hey, S, how many fingers?" I show him my middle finger.

He smiles.

"Do you know where you are?" I ask.

In a hospital. He says.
Which one?
I don't know.
What year is it man?
Nineteen... nine... ten... eight... no, nineteen ninety...
Do you know who I am?
He looks at me a little blankly as he struggles to find my name in the jumbled jolted recesses of his mind.

Slowly his memories start to trickle through, and he recognises me five minutes later.

... But It Pours

"Kor! (Older brother!)" I hear this cry from behind me. His younger sister rushes through the doors and pushes past me.

She grasps his hands, the worry and the strain of her Dad's recent death evident on her face, and now - this.

How are you? What happened? she asks, alternating between sympathy and annoyance at his carelessness.

He barely recognises her, and is still trying to find his words.

I... er... fall... down the steps...

I stand in a corner. He remembers that, at least, I think to myself.

Once she starts to see that he is not in any grave danger, she lets out a tiny relieved laugh and coaxes him into conversation, trying to keep him awake. She reminds him who he is, and who she is, and talked about Mum.

Er... where.. is... Pa? he asks, suddenly.

She is quiet.

I draw a sharp breath.

He thinks his father is still alive.

Er... Pa... is... not around for the moment, kor, she lies. Don't worry about that... he's... er... coming a little later.

Oh... okay, he says.

I try not to cry.

She continues to talk to him and distract him, when suddenly he remembers.

Pa is dead!! the tears start flowing. Pa is dead!! he cries. His body shakes with his sobs.

She hugs him and starts crying too - It's okay, kor. I'm sorry. It's okay. It's okay. I'm sorry, kor, it's okay. We'll be okay. We'll be okay.

I stand in the corner, and no amount of willpower can stop my tears from flowing. I step away through the door, and the last sight I see is her hugging S, who has had to grieve for his father's death a second time.