Was lost... now found.
What a weekend it was.....
Friday, my brother and I both received calls from my mother again.. she was in KL again... after weeks and weeks of calling us from melacca and fearing the worst for her, she was finally back in familiar territory again. We knew she was somewhere in KL, but she couldn't spell exactly where she was.. she still was not in the right state of mind...
My heart was disturbed throughout the day, and through the night.... couldn't sleep much. How is anyone supposed to get a good night sleep knowing your mother was one somewhere nearby on the street? I sat up the entire night, just looking at old photos and videos from my journeys last year in the UK. Those were really happy times for me...... with little care for all this sort of problems.... guess I was just trying to think of anything else except of my mother... trying in desperation to inject some cheer into my gloomy heart. It worked for the most part.. and I stayed up till 6.00am just working on a slide show I was trying to compile of my times there... When I finally felt too tired.. I switched off the lights and went to sleep.
An hour later... I woke up. Awaken by the sound of my phone ringing.. Who could be ringing at such an early hour on Saturday morning? Of course. What was I thinking? It was my mother. "Where are you?" I keep asking her. "I'm at a signboard, next to a seven eleven" she said. That could have been anywhere. I didn't quite know whether to start looking or just to sit tight. But somehow, whether it was God at work, or just by sheer dumb luck, someone gave help in a time of need. I received a call from a stranger. A lady. She said she was with my mother, and that I should come get her. I think she was a passer by and my mother sort of just flagged her down. She told me she would leave my mother and one of the train station in KL, on Jalan Hang Tuah. I said Ok, and left immediately.
I wasn't even quite sure how to find that station... but just went with my instincts. I guess I was guided somehow, and amazingly 20 minutes later I arrived at the station, after asking some directions from people. And there she was, just standing there by the entrance, waiting like I told her to, She looked skinny, she was wearing some unfamiliar cloths again, and she was still walking around carrying her things in plastic bags. I had called my brother along the way, and since he was on his way to work, I told him I would handle this on my own. How I was going to do it was lost to me, but I knew this time round... I had no support. She gave me a hug, and though I was only to happy to receive it... her entire body smelt..... a result of not bathing for months. Her nails were long and dirty, her feet were black.. and it looked like her slippers were cutting her skin.
She was not aggressive and she did not resist. I held her by her shoulder, the first touch I have had with my mother for at months now, and just told her to get into the car with me. I brought her to my car and sat her at the back sit. She asked why did she have to sit at the back, but I told her don't worry about it. But the truth was, I had switch the child safety lock on for the back seats, so that she could not make a runaway if she resisted what I was about to do next.
She spoke a lot while I was driving, but I kept mostly silent. I did not tell her I was planning on bringing her straight to the hospital to be admitted. God knows how she was going to take it this time. So I said nothing and just drove right straight into the Emergency department of University Hospital in PJ. Surprisingly, she had not tried to run away yet. I told her to wait in the car while I went to do the registration. I told the medical attendants to watch over her to make sure she does not run away.. and they instantly recognized her as a psychiatric case.. I glad this time I did not have to go through any trauma or a struggle. I watched from afar as the attendants tried to coax her into getting onto wheelchair. When she refused.. the 2 attendants went away.. and 6 came instead.. with a stretcher bed.. The opened the doors and finally managed to get her on the bed. They used cloths to tie her four limbs all tightly to the bed.... and was brought into the hospital. After parking my car, I joined her and sat there for 45 minutes as the doctor on call made his way to see us. She tried to struggle, and she started crying again, asking why I was admitting her into hospital again. But I felt no sorrow. In fact, for the first time in months, I finally felt that I did the right thing. The doctor came, and I again retold our story to this doctor, something I have done so many times, so much so that I even remember all the names of the medication that she used to take. The medical attendees and even myself held her down as the nurse injected her with tranquillisers & medication to sedate her. She was trying to fight.. but I guess the combination of the valium running in her veins and the sheer exhaustion of sleeping on the streets got the better of her. Within 10 minutes of the injections.... she was snoring loudly right there in the ward.
Not a very sightly thing to see.... But despite the lack of rest, and the tiredness of reliving the whole episode of admitting my mother into hospital again, I was at peace. Better here than on the streets I told myself. There was nothing much I could do but to let my mother sleep and for me to go home to prepare her things. I carried her plastics bags emptied them and put all her laundry to wash. Everything was either stinky or dirty. There was about forty ringgit in stuck in an empty egg tray she carried. A cigarette bud... a bolt (yes, as in bolt & nut), a shutter cock, a Mcdonalds cup lid, and a bun. There was a big blanket, a jacket & some dresses that looked more like it was for 12 year old girls that for a 52 year old woman.
She will be in the hospital for at least the next week or so, then it will be time to discharge her once she has stabilized again. We will have to think of what to do with her next.. .the only solution for now seems to be putting her into a nursing home for the mentally ill again.. even though it would cost us a fortune every month. Something I am not looking forward to. But there is no shying away from what we have to do... and even if it cost us an arm and a leg every month, we are still obliged to care for our mother in whatever ways we can. It is what any son would and should do for their mother. For giving birth to you, giving you milk from her body, nurturing you, protecting you, singing you songs to sleep and teaching you to tie your shoe laces, no child can ever walk away from taking care of their mother without ending up hating themselves.... and i have hated myself for walking away so many times that it has to come to a stop somewhere.
At least for now, I can go to sleep at night.. knowing she is safe in the hospital, under proper care.... and mostly that she is safe instead of being out on the streets. I know at least from now on... as long as it is within my power to give her care, I will not shed another tear in worry of her like I have done these past few months. Welcome back ma.....
posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 9:57 am
Comments: 1
