A Harrowing Night

It may have been Halloween last night, but the past one month or so had been quite a harrowing experience for our entire family. It all started when Dad underwent a rather common surgery known as total knee replacement (TKR).

One of the things we have learnt from this experience is that no two operations are ever alike. Be it major or minor, the same surgery can have very different results on each individual. Just because a particular surgery had gone smoothly for one, there is no guarantee it will be the same for others.

Dad's knee replacement was rendered a success by the doctors and he was discharged within 5 days. There were some dark bruises on his leg, but he was assured that there was no blood clot or anything wrong with the operated leg, so he was allowed to go home. He was even able to walk around using his walking frame.

Nonetheless, he appeared to be extremely fatigued, which we attributed to lack of sleep during his stay at the hospital. At the same time, he had not regained his usual appetite, but again, we thought that was probably quite normal considering he had just undergone a surgery. Although he began spending quite some time in the toilet, we were not extremely worried because he has always had issues with his bowels.

On the fourth day of his discharge from the hospital, though, he started to behave rather differently. He demanded to double his mattress, raising it to almost the height of his waist. That irrational suggestion irritated the short-fused daughter (yours truly) who was rushing to get ready for work and I started berating him for that ridiculous idea.

As we exchanged heated words, however, I looked at my dad in the face and was suddenly shocked by his pale complexion. He was trying to argue back but could only manage to stutter and stammer in a very breathless manner. Although his scheduled checkup was in 2-3 days' time, we thought that perhaps it was better for him to make a visit to the Emergency Room (ER) just to see if he was alright.

I was not there during the first few hours at the ER. Thinking that perhaps Dad's condition was not too serious, I had left for class in college. When I was driving to join my brother at the ER in the evening, however, he called to inform that Dad had lost a lot of blood (something about his reading dropping drastically from 12 to 7) but the doctors were not sure where the bleeding was coming from. Internal bleeding?!!! My heart dropped, too. What did that mean? How did he suddenly take a turn for the worse from the moment I left him?

It took a gargantuan effort to hold back my tears when I saw Dad struggling uncomfortably on that short stretcher in the ER. I immediately regretted the harsh manner I had spoken to him just before leaving home. My mind started to wonder, "What if his bleeding does not stop? What if …? What if …? What if … ?"

In the midst of my fears and panic, a still small voice reminded me that God is still in control and that He is present even in the Emergency Room. I said a quick prayer for Dad. Strange, though, how much easier it was to look for the right words to pray for someone else's dad than one's own, especially when one was so desperate for a miracle then!

We were in the ER for quite some time since the doctors could not immediately identify the source of Dad's bleeding. Once in there, there was very little to do except to look around. It was then that I also gained a profound admiration for the doctors and nurses. Patient after patient were pushed in, yet these doctors patiently conducted test after test just to ensure that they had the right diagnosis for each case. Words could not describe the relief and triumph on their faces whenever one patient gets sent to the ward (which means they have managed to identify the problem and can safely hand over the patient to the right unit).

Occasionally, there were groups of doctors/housemen/trainees (not too sure what you call them) moving in rounds, analysing one case after another. They took turns to cross-check and query each other and this somehow assured us that the protocol was very thorough.

By midnight, they had pushed Dad to the Orthopedic ward. They suspected the bleeding to be from the operated leg. In any case, they had to transfuse 4 pints of blood to replace the blood which was lost.

Thus I spent the night accompanying Dad in the Male Orthopedic ward. Although it was way past midnight, doctors and nurses on duty kept coming to ask more questions about his symptoms and the medication he has taken. I guess, the time of the day has never been a factor at all to them since they were on duty at very odd hours anyway.

I looked around the ward, and was surprisingly comforted by a symphony of snores. No kidding, the other patients were deep in their sleep and collectively orchestrating a concert. It was definitely a change of scene from the Emergency Room hours ago. I muttered to myself rather smugly, "Wait till Papa recovers. He'll out-snore ALL of you!"  

The next few weeks saw Dad gradually recuperating in hospital while I tried a new career at being his Personal Food Panda, delivering meals from home as often as twice a day. While it was exhausting, I really thank the Lord that I still have the chance to serve Dad. The doctors later told Dad that had he arrived later, he could have suffered a heart attack due to insufficient blood supply! I shuddered at that thought, and thank the Lord for bringing Dad through the harrowing ordeal.

One other important lesson I have learnt through this experience is to appreciate our loved ones and to give our best while they are still around, for we do not know when the opportunity may be snatched from us.

Manners O Manners, Where art Thou?

A student accidentally dropped the loud speakers and one of his classmates immediately broke into applause. I glared at the latter incredulously and asked, "Are you sure you are a student of hospitality … because that was the worst thing you could have done!"

Now, I know that it was all in good fun and he had not meant any malice at all, but I was genuinely concerned that we have inadvertently allowed certain inappropriate behaviours to become a habit in us. That particular student, if left unchecked, may some day be the same hotel staff who will break into uncontrollable fits of laughter when a guest trips or drops something right in front of him. I can imagine the damage done to the reputation of both staff as well as the hotel.

Paying close attention to one's response is not exclusive to the hospitality industry alone. In fact, it is something that all of us have to do. Unfortunately, I observe that we have gradually taken the man out of manners. What does that even mean, you ask? We seem to lack basic qualities that justify our existence as part of humanity. The days of chivalrous knighthood may have long disappeared but it is sad to note that even basic manners have become rather extinct among us.

Elevator Etiquette 101

Take a ride in the lift, for example. How many of us would wait till others have exited before entering, or bother to hold the lift doors as we see someone trying to come in? Most would choose to either be glued to their positions, or be suddenly caught up with their mobile (which is an all-time fool-proof way of ignoring others). And if we end up being too far away from the button panel, how many of us remember to attach the magic words, PLEASE and THANK YOU, as we politely request for someone to press the button to the right floor? If you do, you can now take pride that you are an endangered species, indeed.

This always reminds me of a hilarious incident narrated by a colleague: A very strict lecturer known for her combo of large bulging eyes, frizzy hair, and a booming voice happened to be in the lift when a student walked in and casually uttered, "5th floor". I can imagine the lecturer's eyes on the verge of popping out of their sockets as she turned around, glowered at the student and reprimanded him loudly for not saying "please" or "thank you". And she had this simple truth to add, "Do you think we are put on earth just to press the lift buttons for you?!!!"

I am guessing that was the student's longest ride in any elevator, ever.

Perhaps it was my colleague's dramatic narration. Or perhaps it was just my fanciful imagination. Whatever it was, I laughed long and hard after hearing about that episode. Who wouldn't? Then I looked into the mirror and I immediately stopped laughing. Despite growing up with Enid Blyton's horror stories about kids who forget to mind their P's and Q's, I have to admit that I have also gradually become stingy with my "please" and "thank you".

It is easy for the younger generation to not familiarize themselves with the phrases "please" and "thank you" because many grow up with their 'kakak's i.e. housekeepers/baby sitters/maids etc. waiting for their commands at all times. When they observe their parents/grandparents/adults bossing kakak around without using 'please' and 'thank you', they mimic that behaviour/tone and bring the same attitude when they interact with their friends, adults, and strangers. Having said that, even those of us who did not grow up in such privileged environment have unknowingly omitted 'please' and 'thank you' in our daily conversation. You don't agree with me? Try paying close attention to your interaction. If at all, you discover that you have also been scrimping on 'please' and 'thank you', perhaps it is time for us to wonder why. Could it be possibly due to our increasing sense of entitlement? Have we become arrogant as we grow older?

Some may justify by saying, "We may not use 'please' and 'thank you' as often, but hey, at least we do not use profanities!" Has it ever occurred to us that using profanities is not necessarily the only way we display our lack of manners? Another bad habit we have is to not cover our mouths when we make all kinds of unpleasant noises i.e. burp, cough, and most of all, sneeze! I am guilty of forgetting to cover my mouth at times when I cough. While I agree that there is no excuse for such behaviour, I think it is only fair for me to state that I had once coughed for 5 whole months straight. After rounds of checkups, it was revealed to be a symptom of acid reflux, hence nothing contagious. Nonetheless, if I had as much as 2 cents for every single cough then, I would have been a millionaire by the second month. Initially, I had tried to cover my mouth with a tissue whenever I felt a cough coming up. After a while, though, it became such a nuisance that I finally took Elsa's advice from Frozen. You guessed it right … I let it go! 

Truth be told, whenever someone coughs or sneezes, my imagination runs on an overtime mode. I imagine droplets floating in the air, searching fervently for a new 'home'. You can now imagine my horror when I get stuck in a crowded public transport and someone coughs straight into my face! I would hold my breath till my face turns an unhealthy shade of blue. And before my respiratory system resumes itself, I would try to "blow" all these imaginary germs and droplets as far as possible.

But when a person sneezes loudly without turning away or covering his/her mouth, that is when I go totally berserk. It is no longer tiny droplets floating in the air that I have to evade. We are now referring to a jumbo spray akin to nuclear destruction that covers a 1.5 km radius. There is nothing you can do to escape. That, I think is quite an unimpressive move, I must say. So unimpressive that I recall an incident when a complete stranger waiting for the same lift at a shopping complex let out a loud sneeze/spray without covering his mouth, and I immediately scowled and went, "Eeewww!!!" He was surprised at my reaction and apologised profusely after that. He did not know that I was even more shocked by my own outburst! My brother said I was lucky that the stranger was not a member of a triad, else I would have had my facial features totally rearranged.

It does not take a genius to know that unwanted noise is always unwelcome anywhere. There is, therefore, no need to yell into one's mobile, or play loud videos in the public, no matter how amusing/educational/informative one may think it is. But what happens when the noise not only triggers your sense of hearing, but also your sense of smell?

I once saw a very well-dressed and attractive lady in high heels, intellectually browsing through some books at the shelves in a bookstore. After a while, she suddenly raised her right knee to her chest and let out a fart. A loud, boisterous, and possibly stinky fart. (You didn't expect me to check by taking a deep breath at that point, did you?) My jaw dropped. It was not so much about letting out a fart in public (after all, to quote Shrek, farts are always "better out than in"), but was it even necessary to lift her right knee thus? Did it make the process more satisfying, I wonder? She did not even have the audacity to check if the coast was clear nor showed any signs of remorse thereafter. Oh, the horror!

Where, O where, have our manners gone?

Well, if you are a Malaysian, you would surely know that our manners are almost non-existent on our Malaysian roads. Why else would we see so many motorists jumping queues, tailgating, double-parking, and getting involved in road rage? Similarly, we have pedestrians who take their own sweet time and never look up from their phone while crossing the road, under the infamous Malaysian assumption that it is, after all, their "grandfather's road"!

I asked around to find out more about other ill manners that are unbearable and the answer ranges from meeting dishonest sales clerks to people who hog public space using their bags etc. Some are easily agitated by callers who ask, "Who are you?" (despite being the one who initiated the call). Then there are also some who are highly disappointed when others do not greet them (this is especially true among the elderly). My mom gets irritated at the very sight of people walking around obliviously with earphones or headphones.

A friend made an interesting observation the other day when she asked, "Isn't our Asian culture one that is supposedly based on bersopan-santun (propriety and good manners)? Why do we find it so challenging to hold the door for others, or to acknowledge the other person's presence with a smile? Will it kill us?"

My observation is this: Manners can be quite relative. Something that seems highly offensive to us may not appear to be so in the eyes of the offender. The bar may be lowered, but there is still a bottom line that all of us eventually hit before we collectively agree that a certain action is plain rude and unacceptable.

On the other hand, when one has higher standards than usual, he/she may come across as more appealing. I recall a well mannered part-time lecturer who always minta diri (excuses himself) before leaving. While most of us would try to sneak out in the middle of a meeting, he would politely request for permission to be excused. Now, that is super classy! A reflection of excellent upbringing, indeed! How often have we dropped by our friends' homes or attended parties and have just disappeared without first thanking the host and requesting for permission to leave?

On that note, I shall end with this, "Thank you for reading this rant. If you would excuse me, I wish to take leave." =P