My "Ciku" Story-Part I

I just love ciku. It’s such an exquisite and yet humble fruit. The outside of the fruit is hard, but the isi is just soft and sweet thus not much chewing is required, and if it’s really ripe, we can just slurp it..lovely!

Besides the taste, I just love the fruit because every time I eat it, it brings back a special memory that I still vividly remember even though it had happened about 10 years ago. And this is my “Ciku Story” …

Venue : Kuala Lumpur General Hospital
Time : After 10 p.m.

You know how creepy hospitals could be at night. For those who were sick, that was the time to get the much needed rest after being poked and stubbed with various needles, medications and what not for the whole day. However, for the caretaker, that was the most dreaded time of the day - the sudden ‘lifeless’ of the building at night could really make you worry sick about the sick.

I had been here for about two months now. There was nothing much that I could do then besides walking back and forth from the ICU ward to the hallway in front of it, where I had my flip chair there. That was my resting place.

But of course during the day, I wouldn’t have to move that much as there would always be visitors. Usually I just usher them to the ward while offering brief explanation about his condition and progress (if any). One thing for sure, I would always stressed out that he’s going to be okay..with God’s will of course.

But things would be different at night as there would be no visitors allowed after the visiting hours. So, I would check out on him at least every half an hour. After all I could not sleep either. For the matter of fact, I had not really been able to sleep or eat properly for the past two months.

I slowly pushed the white painted door. The environment there was just different, just like you had stepped into another era. It was much modern, with new, hi-tech medical equipment everywhere and the pungent smell of the antiseptic floor cleaner filled the air. It was also quieter in here. The only sound that could be heard was the beep-beep sound of the machines on which the patients hang their lives on.

And there he was lying on the bed with all sorts of wires around him. I looked at the various monitors that were hung around him, trying to figure out what all the numbers, symbols and even color means. A nurse once taught me how to read them and explained the functions. Deep inside, I prayed that everything that been displayed there meant well, positive. It was rather ironic, don’t you think, on how much you hung up your hopes about someone’s life on something that was not even alive…

Then I turned my attention towards him. He was asleep - as he would most of the time because of the high sedative that they gave to him. I wonder whether he was dreaming or still intact with the goings on around him. A few moments later he opened his eyes, perhaps because he felt my presence. I looked at him and held his hands, slowly. He was so fragile. I offered him water, but he refused it. Then in a weak voice he said, “Nak makan ciku, boleh tak bawakkan ciku,”

OMG, how could I get ciku at this hour – the hospital’s cafeteria downstairs closed at 7 p.m., I didn’t have any transportation or anyone for that matter to go out and get it for me. Moreover, was there any fruit stalls that still open at that time?

And to tell him that it was impossible to get it was not an option. He’d was bed ridden for more than a month and had never eaten real food ever since. They dripped milk through the tube that goes in through the nose and the fact that the doctor had made a small hole at his throat for the ventilizer, it was impossible for him to eat or even drink for that matter. So literally, he didn’t tasted food for more than a month, and water was a luxury. The doctor only allowed him about a tea spoon of it, for the purpose of tasting it, not drinking it.

I was so naive and vulnerable then (and still am, I guess!!). I almost broke down and cry when suddenly.... (to be continued in the next part)