Head Wound

"Jesse fell and cut his head!" Mae's voice quivered over the phone on Friday. My mother-in-law had tried to send him to the neighbourhood pediatrician but it was closed. I called MIL. Over the phone I could hear the boy screaming.

"Clean the wound, and apply pressure to stop the bleeding," I snapped orders through the chaos, remembering what little first aid I learnt at school. "It stopped bleeding," MIL advised and added, "Drive safely"

I can only guess what a traumatic experience it must have been to see her grandson bleeding profusely. I stepped on it.

I got there about 10 minutes later and it was an alarming sight. Both MIL and Anie, our maid, was covered in blood. My boy had cried himself to sleep in his kakak's arm. When I walked over and saw the wound in his forehead, I recoiled in shock and tears welled up in my eyes. It was a deep cut, 40mm long and about 6mm deep. I was dumbstrucked.

"Mae is on her way back," MIL said, "she said to wait."

I snapped out of whatever stupor I was in, and got up to leave. "I don't want Mae to see this," I explained. I doubt it she would be able to handle it.

The drive took forever with the lunch hour jam. On one hand I was thankful that Jesse was asleep and not crying and screaming. And yet, on the other hand, there was my precious little boy laying silently in his Kakak's arms with a gaping wound in his head. I didn't know what to think.

When we got to the hospital, Jesse awoke. Despite the pain he must have been going through, he didn't cry. "Are you okay, boy?" I asked. "Yes," he said in a sad little voice. It pained me.

The doctor was out for lunch and so the nurse covered the wound with a wet dressing. And all the nurses at Megah Medical Specialist Centre consoled the boy and told him what a brave boy he was. He was.

Mae arrived shortly after with a bag of goodies for the boy and it cheered him up plenty.

The doctor examined the wound. Apparently, it was so bad that it his muscle was cut. Mae saw it for the first time and her eyes went red.

The nurses restraint him and the doctor administered a local anesthetic jab into the wound. He struggled and cried a little. I almost did as I saw his forehead swell before my eyes from the injection. "He won't feel a thing when I stitch him up," Doc explained, "but he will probably cry out of fear."

By then Jesse was in good spirits again. By the time we were ushered into the operation theatre, he called out cheerfully, "See you later, Mommy," much to the nurses' amusement. He was thrilled with the little robe they let him wear, oblivious to the cut in his forehead.



In the theatre, they strapped him tight on the gurney. He started crying and begging me to let him loose. I had never felt so helpless in my life. The doctor went as quickly as he could, to spare the boy the agony. After two layers of sutures, some 11 stitches in all, I unstrapped him and hugged him close, and everything felt alright again. I guess I needed it as much as he did.

By the time we left the hospital, he was all happy as if nothing had happened. And over the weekend, it had been all good. No nightmares, no fevers and no crying.

But for Mae and I, and my Mother-In-Law, things may never be the same again.

P.Ramlee The Musical

I grew up on P.Ramlee. Back in the 70s, they played his movies on TV all the time. The whole family would crowd around our black & white TV and laugh with the Man, enjoy his antics and sing his songs.

You have to remember that this was the 70s. There was no Astro. We had all of two TV channels. There was no internet. Hell, we didn't even have a damn PC. And the closest thing to a video game was Nintendo's Game N Watch. So yeah, P.Ramlee was entertainment for the whole family.

And then cue some 30+ plus years later, Mae bumps into her old friend at the shopping mall and suddenly we land ourselves a couple of free tix to P.Ramlee the Musical. Apparently poor Karen had two extra seats and no takers. Oh, the travesty!

The show was great - great script, great music, great ensemble cast and all. I especially loved the 2nd act when P.Ramlee's life story played out like one of his wonderful comedies.

Mae enjoyed it. For me, it was a bit of nostalgia, though I would have like to have heard a few more songs in it. Getaran Jiwa, one of P.Ramlee's most familiar tunes should probably have been in, simply because is so iconic. Probably Bunyi Gitar too. And then there is my personal favourite, Aci Aci Buka Pintu; simply because Mom used to sing it to me when I was a kid. *sniff*

The show is all sold out, but if anyone should happen to chance upon any free tickets, you should kill for them. :) But don't take my word for it. Do see TV Smith and Jeff Ooi's take on the show.

Mother-In-Law Day

Apparently, today is Mother-In-Law day, according to the Mix.FM. Some people say it's the 4th Sunday in October. Me, I'm just amused that there is a day to commemorate mothers-in-law. I wonder who decided it would be a good idea for a Mother-In-Law day. I'll bet it's somebody's mother-in-law. It certainly feels like the kind of thing a mother-in-law would think up. Just imagine:

Wife: Honey, aren't we gonna take Mom out for dinner this Mother-In-Law Day?
Hubby: Erm... I was thinking perhaps we should take my mom out.
Wife: You know I don't get along with your mother.
Hubby: This is the woman who brought your husband up, dammit!
Wife: I've lived with my mom all my life too.
Hubby: Believe me, I know the pain she must have gone through cos I live it everyday!!!
Wife: Well, if it's any consolation, at least your mother-in-law isn't a witch like mine!

This is just a dramatization from my warped mind. I assure you Mae and I have wonderful mothers-in-law. In any case, I doubt if we'll celebrate the day. It's yet another sneaky attempt to empty our pockets.

Be A Man

The little guy entertains me no end. These days he picks stuff up very quickly so you can imagine what joy (and comedy) that gives me. In case you're wondering where that came from, go ahead and play the clip below:

Toothbrushing

Jesse hates brushing his teeth. We've tried all kinds of ways to make it interesting for him, but nope. The boy is simply adversed to having foreign objects stuffed up his mouth.

To make matters worse, Daddy is not much of an authority of brushing teeth. You see, I'm afraid, all I can safely commit to is one brush a day. The fact is, somedays, I conveniently forget to brush before bed. Hehehh... I know how gross that must seem, but all I can say is, that's all Grandmother's fault.

"Chaat mutt yeh gwai lah," she'd scoff... erm... scornfully. Loosely translated, it pretty much means "What the hell are you brushing for?"

Heh. The old lady was quite the battle axe, but more than often her bark was worse than her bite. Then again, that's probably attributed to the fact that she had lost all her teeth by the time she turned 30. In fact, all her contemporaries too had become toothless by their 30th birthdays.

Back in Ah Por's day, dentalcare wasn't exactly all the rage. And toothpaste was a luxury afforded only by the upper echelons society. As for Ah Por (and most of her village), they used ash from the coal stove. Which probably explains the short shelf life of their teeth. But that never stopped the old lady from brushing off the notion of brushing. Which, as a kid, was simply marvellous news.

And so, more than not, I have had to make a conscious effort to remember to brush my teeth before bed. And more than often, I fail. Thankfully, I've gone past 30 with all my teeth intact. So there! (I am SO gonna get a lecture from my dentist who reads this blog. Hahaha.)

As for Jesse, only Mae can save him now.

Lo And Behold

I really should blog more often. When I started doing this back in '04, I thought it'd be a great way to record Jesse's development. And it is, capturing some of Jesse's finest moments as an infant. (Like this one here, which I love to bits!)

These days, his progress is more gradual and sort of just sneaks up on you.

For instance, he's been off the diaper a little bit at a time for over a month now. Yes, yes, I know, it's taken awhile and other kids are already off their diapers aeons ago... but this is my boy and that is always worth some kind of celebration. But the transition is gradual. He's still uncomfortable taking a poopie in the john.

Then, there's his conversational skills. Despite his bubbly persona, he does tend to clamp up on the phone, answering "yes" or "no" to any question. Over the week he's improved. A couple of days ago, he asked me to buy donuts. Yesterday, he wanted pizza. Sure, sure, kids ask for food all the time, but this is Jesse! :)

He sings. He picks up lyrics quite quickly even if he doesn't quite understand what they mean. And he reads. My boy, reading! Pretty soon he'll be moving out, getting married and having kids. *sigh*

More Monday Blues

Today was just like any other day, except that it was special. As I got out of my car to go to work, there it was right before me, a hot steaming pile of dogshit. I hesitated, and then navigated myself carefully around it. This was an omen, if ever there was one. And the day went downhill from there.

I was sick over the weekend. What pisses me off, is that the effects of flu is so much more pronounced these days now that I'v passed the mid-30 mark. And the other thing that pisses me off about getting sick is that, for some sick twisted reason, I only seem to fall sick on Friday evening and conveniently recover enough on a Sunday night.

What gives, man?!? It's bad enough that I didn't manage to goof get a break from work, I actually get well enough to get my sorry ass back to work. Except that, I'm not well enough to feel great. Plus, I have this cocktail of pills to keep me drugged up and groggy for most of the day, except that I'm not doped up enough to be oblivious to the torture that is my Monday morning.

Afternoon comes, and along with it, a raging forest fire I have to put out at work.

And then, Mae calls. Jesse is down with high fever. "I think I'm coming down with something too." I know immediately that I must have spread some of my weekend cheer around.

At six, she calls again, and tells me that she is so deathly ill that she can't possibly drive home from my mother-in-law's house. Yes, Mae has always been a tad melodramatic about things but since this was my own undoing, I resolved to do the right thing. I would have to pick my family from MIL's.

I packed my Macbook into my bag and dragged my feet off into the sunset, muttering curses at my misfortunes. I sat in the car, my right foot still out the door and started the engine. And like one of those flashback sequences in the movies, the events of the day played out in reverse order in my mind - right to the very moment that I had arrived at work earlier in the day.

Instinctively, I glanced at pile of dog poo that had greeted me in the morning. Like me, it too had had a terrible day. What was once a proud random sculpture of dog excrement had now been reduced to a downtrodden pile of shit. As much as I hate to admit it, I felt a tinge of what can only be accurately described as schadenfraude, knowing that some idiot somewhere had stepped into shit.

Until I discovered, to a mix emotion of joy and horror, that I was that very idiot. And the evidence was written all over the sole of my right shoe. That disgusting pile of shit had waited all day to get me and it got me good. *sigh*

There was something strangely poetic about all of this, but it's hard to be poetic about shit. Still, if you feel so inclined, there's the comment box. :)