Satu elemen yang penting untuk pengkaryaan adalah watak. Seringkali sebelum memulakan sebuah cerita, aku perlu mengenali siapakah orangnya yang akan bercerita, siapakah yang akan diceritakan. Aku harus menyenanginya dan meminati dia sebelum aku mampu bercerita dengan suaranya, atau bercerita tentangnya.
SZCW yang sedang aku kerjakan sekarang menuntut aku menggambarkan siapakah watak-wataknya dengan lebih jelas. Jelas untuk aku. Siapa Zaitun? Tidak malu aku mengaku - dia digarap berdasarkan aku. Pengalamannya adalah pengalaman aku. Tapi dia bukan aku. Aku tidak memahami sepenuhnya diriku sendiri, justeru mustahil untuk aku memancarkan perwatakanku kepada watak fiksi dengan tepat dan jujur. Zaitun adalah fiksi yang perlu kulakar semula, walaupun templatenya adalah aku.
Zaitun lebih degil daripada aku. Lebih berontak. Lebih berani. Lebih cekal. Matanya lebih tajam, hatinya lebih kental.
Lebih cantik daripada aku. Tentu. Fashion sensenya harus lebih baik. Oh, aku juga punya fashion sense yang baik, tapi aku malas untuk berusaha. Memerlukan terlalu banyak effort.
Zaitun, adalah gadis yang duduk di cafe seorang diri dengan buku di tangan, menghirup kopi, dan kau hampir-hampir boleh bayangkan jarinya terjepit rokok Menthol yang disedut dengan tenang sambil menulis sesuatu dalam buku catatannya (dia tentu sahaja tidak merokok - ada batasan yang tidak boleh aku langgar dalam berkarya, walaupun aku teringin!)
Zaitun adalah gadis yang menangis di hadapan Tuhan pada waktu malam, dan bertelagah dengan tokoh agama pada waktu siang.
Dia terperangkap antara dua dunia - konservatif dan liberal - kedua-duanya tidak mampu dia terima sepenuhnya, dan tidak akan menerima dia sepenuhnya, lantas Zaitun belayar dalam perahunya sendiri, tunggal, sentiasa dalam kompromi, tidak pernah dapat memberi seluruh hati kepada mana-mana kelompok, gaya hidup atau ideologi.
Dia sukar untuk mempercayai, tetapi setelah yakin, setelah pasti, dia akan mempertahankan pegangannya sampai mati. Dia sukar untuk mencintai, tetapi setelah jatuh hati, dia akan menyimpan kasihnya - sampai mati.
Zaitun, gadis keras degil yang mendewasa menjadi wanita tenang teguh, tapi matanya tetap curiga dengan alam.
Dan cintanya, ya cintanya. Setelah jatuh hati, dia menyimpan kasihnya - sampai mati.
Nik Waizuri.
Maafkan saya kerana kerana pandai-pandai merekacipta perwatakan awak. Saya memang tidak pernah kenal awak, seperti awak tidak pernah kenal saya.
Siapa Waizuri?
Nantilah lain kali. Satu persatu. Tak perlu terburu-buru.
07/07/2012
perempuan dalam perjalanan
dia perempuan
ribut menerbangkan selendangnya
mengiraikan sanggulnya
rambut hitamnya berkibaran
wangi diselerakkan angin, jauh
dia perempuan
gempa menelan sepatunya
kaki putihnya berjalan
memijak batu dan kaca tajam
darah yang merah menandakan perjalanannya, kian jauh
dia perempuan
badai menghempas bahteranya
merampas surat-surat hayat
dan mengetawakan semua rahsia
dia menulis setiap cerita di wajah ombak
mengirimkan khabar ke pantai
biar terdampar kisahnya, jauh
"kau perempuan
telah kukoyakkan selendangmu
kuragut sepatumu
dan kutelanjangkan rahsiamu
mengapa kau tidak membisu, mati, malu?"
"aku perempuan
maruahku tidak pada selendang dan sepatu
atau rahsia dalam surat-surat hayatku
aku lama menunggu mati dalam rindu
dunia hanyalah seketul debu
sedangkan aku pengembara, hidupku untuk terbang, jauh"
lalu matahari pagi menjahitkan untuknya selendang perak
kaki gunung menghadiahkan sepatu marmar
dan langit malam menyimpulkan rahsianya diam
disimpan oleh bintang-bintang, jauh
dia perempuan yang meneruskan perjalanan
sendiri, tenang dan jauh
ribut menerbangkan selendangnya
mengiraikan sanggulnya
rambut hitamnya berkibaran
wangi diselerakkan angin, jauh
dia perempuan
gempa menelan sepatunya
kaki putihnya berjalan
memijak batu dan kaca tajam
darah yang merah menandakan perjalanannya, kian jauh
dia perempuan
badai menghempas bahteranya
merampas surat-surat hayat
dan mengetawakan semua rahsia
dia menulis setiap cerita di wajah ombak
mengirimkan khabar ke pantai
biar terdampar kisahnya, jauh
"kau perempuan
telah kukoyakkan selendangmu
kuragut sepatumu
dan kutelanjangkan rahsiamu
mengapa kau tidak membisu, mati, malu?"
"aku perempuan
maruahku tidak pada selendang dan sepatu
atau rahsia dalam surat-surat hayatku
aku lama menunggu mati dalam rindu
dunia hanyalah seketul debu
sedangkan aku pengembara, hidupku untuk terbang, jauh"
lalu matahari pagi menjahitkan untuknya selendang perak
kaki gunung menghadiahkan sepatu marmar
dan langit malam menyimpulkan rahsianya diam
disimpan oleh bintang-bintang, jauh
dia perempuan yang meneruskan perjalanan
sendiri, tenang dan jauh
18/05/2012
restless
These few days (?weeks) there is an unrest, deep inside.
The ability to lose myself in thoughts, while apparently doing nothing.
The ability to fly to the hills and stars while watching the world pass by the bus or car window during travel.
The ability to be contented with the beautiful evening sky as I am walking home from work, and feel my troubles dissolve in the wind.
Have I lost it?
I texted my sister at random one evening,
"I feel restless. A restlessness that tells me I want to travel ... to walk, to ride buses and trains.. To seek my own company."
To wish the impish girl replied.
"Perabih HO dulu."
Ceh.
I like to think of myself as a free spirit. Walls and wheels cannot restrain me. If I can't physically travel, I will make the journey in mind. Music tends to speed up the process and introduce new places. If the mind finds itself sluggish, the fingers will write the words necessary to purge it of clots and clogging debris. There were multiple times when I would feel restless, then spend an hour or so writing, and came out of the exercise feeling refreshed. Worse come to the worse, I will sleep, and dreams that visit my sleep are usually vivid, dreams that feel like second lives, and I woke up fascinated.
Lately, altogether with some spiritual refurbishments I was attempting, the soul suddenly (well not actually that sudden - I think it is a gradual process, acutely exacerbated by the aforesaid pursuit) went into "this-world-is-narrow-and-suffocating" mode. I started to feel uneasy, restricted by the everyday routine, something struggling inside my chest - which at times feel physically tightened - wanting out.
The mind failed to launch satisfactorily, and of course it failed to sail smoothly, when I tried to go into my usual mental excursions. Travel in car or bus or plane suddenly feels boring, surprisingly, I felt like I don't have anything to do to kill the time. Writing poetry or generating stories in my head cease to feel as effortless as it used to be.
While I am happily working in my wards, caring for my patients, reciting figures and facts to satisfy my superiors (moreso my own desire for perfection), there is a discontent that is stirring inside. The day-to-day routine feels mundane. Yes, I found solace in prayer and reciting the Quran and zikr, which is when the mind and heart were at peace, loving and feeling the Love, but I am not yet able to maintain that state of mind continuously.
There is a discontent inside. Perhaps this is what Paulo Coelho felt when he said in his autobiographical novel, Aleph, that he is suffering a 'spiritual stagnation'. The remedy, according to him, was to travel, and let life unravel its secrets to him throughout the journey.
I have always believed and practiced the wisdom. I travelled to look for peace, to find answers, to meet those who matter for me, to run away, to seek shelter. Most of those journeys are done solo, or with the company of selected important persons. And indeed, even if I did not find exactly what I am searching for, I will not return home empty-handed. Life, indeed, with the grace, mercy and protection of Allah SWT, revealed its wisdom endlessly.
Now I can't travel in physical, not that much, and my mind- and soul - is unable to take flight. Even to write now feels like a chore. I hope this is but a transformational period, from which I shall emerge afresh, a better person.
Lord, deliver me.
The ability to lose myself in thoughts, while apparently doing nothing.
The ability to fly to the hills and stars while watching the world pass by the bus or car window during travel.
The ability to be contented with the beautiful evening sky as I am walking home from work, and feel my troubles dissolve in the wind.
Have I lost it?
I texted my sister at random one evening,
"I feel restless. A restlessness that tells me I want to travel ... to walk, to ride buses and trains.. To seek my own company."
To wish the impish girl replied.
"Perabih HO dulu."
Ceh.
I like to think of myself as a free spirit. Walls and wheels cannot restrain me. If I can't physically travel, I will make the journey in mind. Music tends to speed up the process and introduce new places. If the mind finds itself sluggish, the fingers will write the words necessary to purge it of clots and clogging debris. There were multiple times when I would feel restless, then spend an hour or so writing, and came out of the exercise feeling refreshed. Worse come to the worse, I will sleep, and dreams that visit my sleep are usually vivid, dreams that feel like second lives, and I woke up fascinated.
Lately, altogether with some spiritual refurbishments I was attempting, the soul suddenly (well not actually that sudden - I think it is a gradual process, acutely exacerbated by the aforesaid pursuit) went into "this-world-is-narrow-and-suffocating" mode. I started to feel uneasy, restricted by the everyday routine, something struggling inside my chest - which at times feel physically tightened - wanting out.
The mind failed to launch satisfactorily, and of course it failed to sail smoothly, when I tried to go into my usual mental excursions. Travel in car or bus or plane suddenly feels boring, surprisingly, I felt like I don't have anything to do to kill the time. Writing poetry or generating stories in my head cease to feel as effortless as it used to be.
While I am happily working in my wards, caring for my patients, reciting figures and facts to satisfy my superiors (moreso my own desire for perfection), there is a discontent that is stirring inside. The day-to-day routine feels mundane. Yes, I found solace in prayer and reciting the Quran and zikr, which is when the mind and heart were at peace, loving and feeling the Love, but I am not yet able to maintain that state of mind continuously.
There is a discontent inside. Perhaps this is what Paulo Coelho felt when he said in his autobiographical novel, Aleph, that he is suffering a 'spiritual stagnation'. The remedy, according to him, was to travel, and let life unravel its secrets to him throughout the journey.
I have always believed and practiced the wisdom. I travelled to look for peace, to find answers, to meet those who matter for me, to run away, to seek shelter. Most of those journeys are done solo, or with the company of selected important persons. And indeed, even if I did not find exactly what I am searching for, I will not return home empty-handed. Life, indeed, with the grace, mercy and protection of Allah SWT, revealed its wisdom endlessly.
Now I can't travel in physical, not that much, and my mind- and soul - is unable to take flight. Even to write now feels like a chore. I hope this is but a transformational period, from which I shall emerge afresh, a better person.
Lord, deliver me.
09/04/2012
sejak akhir-akhir ini aku rasa seperti emily dickinson
semalam,
ada dua orang pesakit perempuan
seorang muda, seorang tua
kedua-duanya ada penyakit yang sama
cuma kesannya berbeza-beza.
yang muda OK.
tapi tentang yang tua,
kata doktor pakar
"You know kan, there's nothing we can do for her. Her liver's gone."
dia ada splenomegaly, tak ada hepatomegaly,
of course sebab cirrhosis.
for a not very brief moment (until now, actually)
I feel confronted
by my own mortality.
tak adalah takut sangat pun,
but it's a sobering thought.
=)
ada dua orang pesakit perempuan
seorang muda, seorang tua
kedua-duanya ada penyakit yang sama
cuma kesannya berbeza-beza.
yang muda OK.
tapi tentang yang tua,
kata doktor pakar
"You know kan, there's nothing we can do for her. Her liver's gone."
dia ada splenomegaly, tak ada hepatomegaly,
of course sebab cirrhosis.
for a not very brief moment (until now, actually)
I feel confronted
by my own mortality.
tak adalah takut sangat pun,
but it's a sobering thought.
=)
05/04/2012
jujur pada waktu malam hujan
(ketika ini aku teringat kepada laman LiveJournal yang pernah aku guna dulu - setiap entri akan ada ruang untuk melodi apa yang meneman ketika menulis, emosi apa yang menujah kamu tatkala menulis)
Tapi sekejap saja aku berpetualang ke sana, sekejap saja, aku kembali kepada Blogger semula.
Mungkin kerana sudah lama bermain dengan Blogger, sudah pandai dengan widget gadget segala, design yang mudah-mudah, dan malas mau belajar-belajar guna platform lain.
Selama 4-5 bulan aku mula bekerja, aku amat jarang menggunakan laptop. Aku tinggal di kuarters hospital, tiada internet, dan keypad netbook rosak. External keypad murah yang kubeli berfungsi baik - cuma kelajuan menaipku yang >90patahkataseminit itu tak dapat dimanfaatkan dengan kekunci plastik lembik yang perlu ditekan satu-satu, tergolek-golek di bawah jari. Sabarku tak cukup. Ideaku lari, tak sempat jari yang menaip perlahan untuk mengejar. Aku tak dapat menulis dan aku malas menulis.
Masa-masa terluang, aku membaca, membaca, dan membaca. Sesekali aku menulis dalam diari, atau mencatat nota panjang lewat Facebook yang diakses dengan smartphone.
Baru-baru ini alhamdulillah aku baru membeli netbook baru. Tidak mahal, tidak canggih, tapi memadailah untuk aku melayari internet melalui mobile broadband, dan paling paling penting, memudahkan aku menulis semula.
Apabila menulis, maka jam-jam berjalan laju ke arah dinihari tanpa aku sedar. Jam satu, jam dua, aku masih di depan komputer. Silih berganti menatap nota perubatan dan menulis puisi dan menulis cerpen. Duduk di tepi tingkap, sambil daunnya kubuka, langsir diselak untuk mengalu-alukan masuk angin malam. Aku di tingkat empat, tidak ada siapa-siapa yang mampu (kalaupun mahu) mengintai.
Aku baru sedar, rupa-rupanya, hampir tiap-tiap dinihari, menjelang jam dua pagi, hujan akan turun menderu. Tidak lama, tidak lebat, tetapi hujan tetap turun. Berderai, mengurai dari langit nan tinggi. Sesekali, kilat memancar, mencabar lampu stadium yang mengotorkan angkasa supaya nyah berlalu, biarkan bulan dan bintang dan halilintar menghidupkan malam, berzikir bersama hujan dan angin dan awan.
Aku menjengah keluar, butir-butir hujan hinggap ke wajah, aroma dinihari bersih meruap memenuhkan hati dengan syukur. Hujan menyimbah aspal, percikannya beriak-riak, membentuk kabus halus berapungan. Guruh sesekali menderam garang, merdu pada pendengaranku. Daun-daun palma yang bergoyang-goyang di luar jendela menguit-nguit aku untuk terus menghirup harumnya angin malam bercampur titis hujan.
Hujan adalah waktu rahmat dilimpahkan Tuhan, waktu untuk menadah tangan berdoa.
Banyak yang aku mahu doakan, sebab aku seperti orang lain juga, hamba Tuhan yang cuma punya Tuhan untuk digantungkan semua harapan.
Semua harapan.
Semua harapan.
Kalaulah awak tahu, semua yang ingin saya luahkan, semua yang ingin saya ucapkan, semua yang saya doakan.
Semua yang saya simpan, tidak mampu pun untuk saya puisikan, apatah lagi luahkan untuk satu alam. Semua rasa yang saya tunggu waktunya Tuhan izinkan saya curahkan kepada yang berhak, yang mungkin saja bukan awak. Jadi saya harus simpan, harus jaga. Walaupun saya rasa selalu kalah.
Saya tak tahu masih bersihkah rasa yang saya simpan ini.
Hujan makin reda. Oh, dah reda.
Aku sempat berdoa beberapa baris.
Pada waktu mustajab doa, ketika aku mau memohon untuk dianugerahkan teman yang soleh, ketika itu juga aku teringat betapa tidak solehahnya aku, dan terus, aku jadi malu kepada Tuhan, dan seringkali pula aku menukar haluan, memohon benda-benda lain, bermacam-macam benda lain, sungguh-sungguh meminta bermacam-macam benda lain, sehingga apabila tiba kepada bab jodoh, aku sudah keletihan, sudah kehabisan madah.
Tapi aku tidak pernah jemu, apatah lagi putus asa, meminta apa sahaja daripada Tuhan. Kalau tak minta daripada Dia, hei, kau nak mengharap daripada siapa? Malu memanglah malu, dan memang selayaknya hamba yang banyak dosa malu kepada Dia, tapi malu itu biarlah seperti malu sang dara tersipu-sipu, malu yang menabiri mahu, supaya tida/k nampak biadab melulu. Tidaklah ia malu yang menyebabkan kita menjadi pendosa angkuh, atau tanpa sedar, seolah-olah putus asa dengan rahmat Tuhan.. "tak perlulah aku minta, tak layak pun dapat, takkan Tuhan nak bagi"...oh hello, itu merajuk, itu sangka buruk, berani kau mengada-ngada kurang sopan begitu dengan Allah SWT?
Bukankah kita diajar supaya mendekati Tuhan dengan raja' (harap) dan khauf (takut) yang seiring-iring?
Dan aku yakin, Tuhan itu memang tempat, satu-satunya tempat, untuk hambaNya meminta-minta. Tiada yang lain. Maka mintalah apa sahaja, dan jaga adab-adabnya. Soal jodoh itu hanya sebahagian kecil daripada sejuta perkara yang diharap-harapkan oleh seorang hamba, dan apalah yang lebih diharapkan daripada roh yang pernah dikenalkan dengan syurga dan indahnya keakraban dengan PenciptaNya, daripada kembali ke pangkuanNya dengan ampun dan redha?
Esok aku kerja malam. Boleh tidur siang (walaupun aku rasa banyak benda lain yang lebih baik boleh aku buat daripada tidur). Rugi membazirkan hidup dengan tidur, kalau hidup baik-baik, lepas mati nanti boleh tidur puas-puas.
(tapi attitude macam itu kalau menyebabkan 'ter'tidur sambil buat discharge pesakit, atau terlelap sambil ambil history pesakit kerana tak larat tahan mengantuk... adalah mendatangkan mudarat.)
Oh, ada GSH aku lupa ambil. Alamak.
kutidurkan mimpi indah ini,
padaMu yang menggenggam takdir
padaMu yang menggenggam takdir
padaMu yang menggenggam takdir
Tapi sekejap saja aku berpetualang ke sana, sekejap saja, aku kembali kepada Blogger semula.
Mungkin kerana sudah lama bermain dengan Blogger, sudah pandai dengan widget gadget segala, design yang mudah-mudah, dan malas mau belajar-belajar guna platform lain.
Selama 4-5 bulan aku mula bekerja, aku amat jarang menggunakan laptop. Aku tinggal di kuarters hospital, tiada internet, dan keypad netbook rosak. External keypad murah yang kubeli berfungsi baik - cuma kelajuan menaipku yang >90patahkataseminit itu tak dapat dimanfaatkan dengan kekunci plastik lembik yang perlu ditekan satu-satu, tergolek-golek di bawah jari. Sabarku tak cukup. Ideaku lari, tak sempat jari yang menaip perlahan untuk mengejar. Aku tak dapat menulis dan aku malas menulis.
Masa-masa terluang, aku membaca, membaca, dan membaca. Sesekali aku menulis dalam diari, atau mencatat nota panjang lewat Facebook yang diakses dengan smartphone.
Baru-baru ini alhamdulillah aku baru membeli netbook baru. Tidak mahal, tidak canggih, tapi memadailah untuk aku melayari internet melalui mobile broadband, dan paling paling penting, memudahkan aku menulis semula.
Apabila menulis, maka jam-jam berjalan laju ke arah dinihari tanpa aku sedar. Jam satu, jam dua, aku masih di depan komputer. Silih berganti menatap nota perubatan dan menulis puisi dan menulis cerpen. Duduk di tepi tingkap, sambil daunnya kubuka, langsir diselak untuk mengalu-alukan masuk angin malam. Aku di tingkat empat, tidak ada siapa-siapa yang mampu (kalaupun mahu) mengintai.
Aku baru sedar, rupa-rupanya, hampir tiap-tiap dinihari, menjelang jam dua pagi, hujan akan turun menderu. Tidak lama, tidak lebat, tetapi hujan tetap turun. Berderai, mengurai dari langit nan tinggi. Sesekali, kilat memancar, mencabar lampu stadium yang mengotorkan angkasa supaya nyah berlalu, biarkan bulan dan bintang dan halilintar menghidupkan malam, berzikir bersama hujan dan angin dan awan.
Aku menjengah keluar, butir-butir hujan hinggap ke wajah, aroma dinihari bersih meruap memenuhkan hati dengan syukur. Hujan menyimbah aspal, percikannya beriak-riak, membentuk kabus halus berapungan. Guruh sesekali menderam garang, merdu pada pendengaranku. Daun-daun palma yang bergoyang-goyang di luar jendela menguit-nguit aku untuk terus menghirup harumnya angin malam bercampur titis hujan.
Hujan adalah waktu rahmat dilimpahkan Tuhan, waktu untuk menadah tangan berdoa.
Banyak yang aku mahu doakan, sebab aku seperti orang lain juga, hamba Tuhan yang cuma punya Tuhan untuk digantungkan semua harapan.
Semua harapan.
Semua harapan.
Kalaulah awak tahu, semua yang ingin saya luahkan, semua yang ingin saya ucapkan, semua yang saya doakan.
Semua yang saya simpan, tidak mampu pun untuk saya puisikan, apatah lagi luahkan untuk satu alam. Semua rasa yang saya tunggu waktunya Tuhan izinkan saya curahkan kepada yang berhak, yang mungkin saja bukan awak. Jadi saya harus simpan, harus jaga. Walaupun saya rasa selalu kalah.
Saya tak tahu masih bersihkah rasa yang saya simpan ini.
Hujan makin reda. Oh, dah reda.
Aku sempat berdoa beberapa baris.
Pada waktu mustajab doa, ketika aku mau memohon untuk dianugerahkan teman yang soleh, ketika itu juga aku teringat betapa tidak solehahnya aku, dan terus, aku jadi malu kepada Tuhan, dan seringkali pula aku menukar haluan, memohon benda-benda lain, bermacam-macam benda lain, sungguh-sungguh meminta bermacam-macam benda lain, sehingga apabila tiba kepada bab jodoh, aku sudah keletihan, sudah kehabisan madah.
Tapi aku tidak pernah jemu, apatah lagi putus asa, meminta apa sahaja daripada Tuhan. Kalau tak minta daripada Dia, hei, kau nak mengharap daripada siapa? Malu memanglah malu, dan memang selayaknya hamba yang banyak dosa malu kepada Dia, tapi malu itu biarlah seperti malu sang dara tersipu-sipu, malu yang menabiri mahu, supaya tida/k nampak biadab melulu. Tidaklah ia malu yang menyebabkan kita menjadi pendosa angkuh, atau tanpa sedar, seolah-olah putus asa dengan rahmat Tuhan.. "tak perlulah aku minta, tak layak pun dapat, takkan Tuhan nak bagi"...oh hello, itu merajuk, itu sangka buruk, berani kau mengada-ngada kurang sopan begitu dengan Allah SWT?
Bukankah kita diajar supaya mendekati Tuhan dengan raja' (harap) dan khauf (takut) yang seiring-iring?
Dan aku yakin, Tuhan itu memang tempat, satu-satunya tempat, untuk hambaNya meminta-minta. Tiada yang lain. Maka mintalah apa sahaja, dan jaga adab-adabnya. Soal jodoh itu hanya sebahagian kecil daripada sejuta perkara yang diharap-harapkan oleh seorang hamba, dan apalah yang lebih diharapkan daripada roh yang pernah dikenalkan dengan syurga dan indahnya keakraban dengan PenciptaNya, daripada kembali ke pangkuanNya dengan ampun dan redha?
Esok aku kerja malam. Boleh tidur siang (walaupun aku rasa banyak benda lain yang lebih baik boleh aku buat daripada tidur). Rugi membazirkan hidup dengan tidur, kalau hidup baik-baik, lepas mati nanti boleh tidur puas-puas.
(tapi attitude macam itu kalau menyebabkan 'ter'tidur sambil buat discharge pesakit, atau terlelap sambil ambil history pesakit kerana tak larat tahan mengantuk... adalah mendatangkan mudarat.)
Oh, ada GSH aku lupa ambil. Alamak.
kutidurkan mimpi indah ini,
padaMu yang menggenggam takdir
padaMu yang menggenggam takdir
padaMu yang menggenggam takdir
04/04/2012
walaupun (kalau ini puisi, aku tujukan untuk pesakit-pesakitku yang diuji dengan HIV)
walaupun dia penagih dadah,
tubuhnya kurus kering
berkudis menggelupas
ada HIV
waktu dia keluar dari wad
(untuk menyambung rawatan di hospital lain)
dengan kerusi roda
dia lambai-lambai tangan kepada aku
dan tersenyum.
walaupun dia (bekas) penagih dadah
kurus kering
sebelah tangan lemah tak terangkat
cirit-birit tak henti-henti
oh, dia juga ada HIV
ada PCP dan juga TB
hari-hari lengannya aku tebuk, ambil macam-macam darah, cucuk nadi cari ABG
malam-malam, dia pasang bacaan Quran
anak dan isterinya ada meneman
dia larang anaknya main handphone kalau aku datang,
tak hormat doktor katanya
suatu malam, dia minta pertolongan
anaknya budak baik, pengawas sekolah
dimarah guru kerana lama tidak datang
tolonglah buat surat makluman, katakan dia tunggu bapanya yang sakit di hospital
setelah aku senyum dan janjikan usaha (belum janji menunaikan - aku tak tahu apa yang boleh aku lakukan)
dia turut senyum lega, dan beritahu isterinya bangga
"jangan risau, abang sudah beritahu doktor, dia akan tolong kita uruskan semua."
dalam surat makluman yang kutandatangan,
aku tulis semua penyakitnya
cirit-birit, lemah jantung, paru-paru berair...
tapi aku tak tulis HIV
aku tak mahu anak pintarnya jadi sasaran caci maki.
walaupun dia pernah menagih
bertahun-tahun dahulu, sudah berhenti, itu kenyataan daripada famili
(kerana sejak dia masuk hospital sampai mati, dia tak pernah sedarkan diri...)
keluarganya begitu ramai
datang berkeliling meneman
ketika aku masukkan long line di lengannya
ketika dia sawan tersentak-sentak
ketika darah meleleh dari tiub yang disambung ke perut
(esofagusnya dijangkiti kulat
petanda HIV yang sudah teruk melarat)
ketika aku terkial-kial menebuk perutnya untuk dialisis kecemasan
kalut mencari arteri untuk ABG segera
memujuk lengan kurusnya mencari pembuluh darah untuk branula
ketika aku diberitahu jururawat
tangannya sudah sejuk keras
ketika aku bertanya keluarga
mahu CPR atau tidak
ketika segala kaca monitor
tidak lagi memberi bacaan
ketika jantungnya diam
dan matanya padam
ketika aku memberitahu
"kakak, dia sudah tidak ada"
dan keluarganya menangis berpelukan
merintih sedih
namun sempat bersalaman denganku
merenung mataku
mengucapkan terima kasih
Tuhan...
Kau izinkan aku menjaganya
sampai dia pergi
sedang keluarganya memerhati
dan amat menghargai
walhal hatiku yang jahat
mungkin diam-diam
mengharap dia cepat mati
ampunkan aku Tuhan
terima amalanku Tuhan
walaupun mereka
pernah berbuat salah
menagih dadah
melanggan pelacur
ada HIV bersarang dalam tubuh
mungkin hidup
mungkin mati
mungkin mati dikelilingi keluarga
mungkin sesak nafas tiba-tiba
lalu terbujur kaku seorang diri
tiada siapa mengaku saudara
mereka semua
adalah manusia
punya jiwa
ada hati, air mata dan cinta
pernah jadi kanak-kanak
melihat dunia
dengan mata suci
sambil tertawa.
tubuhnya kurus kering
berkudis menggelupas
ada HIV
waktu dia keluar dari wad
(untuk menyambung rawatan di hospital lain)
dengan kerusi roda
dia lambai-lambai tangan kepada aku
dan tersenyum.
walaupun dia (bekas) penagih dadah
kurus kering
sebelah tangan lemah tak terangkat
cirit-birit tak henti-henti
oh, dia juga ada HIV
ada PCP dan juga TB
hari-hari lengannya aku tebuk, ambil macam-macam darah, cucuk nadi cari ABG
malam-malam, dia pasang bacaan Quran
anak dan isterinya ada meneman
dia larang anaknya main handphone kalau aku datang,
tak hormat doktor katanya
suatu malam, dia minta pertolongan
anaknya budak baik, pengawas sekolah
dimarah guru kerana lama tidak datang
tolonglah buat surat makluman, katakan dia tunggu bapanya yang sakit di hospital
setelah aku senyum dan janjikan usaha (belum janji menunaikan - aku tak tahu apa yang boleh aku lakukan)
dia turut senyum lega, dan beritahu isterinya bangga
"jangan risau, abang sudah beritahu doktor, dia akan tolong kita uruskan semua."
dalam surat makluman yang kutandatangan,
aku tulis semua penyakitnya
cirit-birit, lemah jantung, paru-paru berair...
tapi aku tak tulis HIV
aku tak mahu anak pintarnya jadi sasaran caci maki.
walaupun dia pernah menagih
bertahun-tahun dahulu, sudah berhenti, itu kenyataan daripada famili
(kerana sejak dia masuk hospital sampai mati, dia tak pernah sedarkan diri...)
keluarganya begitu ramai
datang berkeliling meneman
ketika aku masukkan long line di lengannya
ketika dia sawan tersentak-sentak
ketika darah meleleh dari tiub yang disambung ke perut
(esofagusnya dijangkiti kulat
petanda HIV yang sudah teruk melarat)
ketika aku terkial-kial menebuk perutnya untuk dialisis kecemasan
kalut mencari arteri untuk ABG segera
memujuk lengan kurusnya mencari pembuluh darah untuk branula
ketika aku diberitahu jururawat
tangannya sudah sejuk keras
ketika aku bertanya keluarga
mahu CPR atau tidak
ketika segala kaca monitor
tidak lagi memberi bacaan
ketika jantungnya diam
dan matanya padam
ketika aku memberitahu
"kakak, dia sudah tidak ada"
dan keluarganya menangis berpelukan
merintih sedih
namun sempat bersalaman denganku
merenung mataku
mengucapkan terima kasih
Tuhan...
Kau izinkan aku menjaganya
sampai dia pergi
sedang keluarganya memerhati
dan amat menghargai
walhal hatiku yang jahat
mungkin diam-diam
mengharap dia cepat mati
ampunkan aku Tuhan
terima amalanku Tuhan
walaupun mereka
pernah berbuat salah
menagih dadah
melanggan pelacur
ada HIV bersarang dalam tubuh
mungkin hidup
mungkin mati
mungkin mati dikelilingi keluarga
mungkin sesak nafas tiba-tiba
lalu terbujur kaku seorang diri
tiada siapa mengaku saudara
mereka semua
adalah manusia
punya jiwa
ada hati, air mata dan cinta
pernah jadi kanak-kanak
melihat dunia
dengan mata suci
sambil tertawa.
23/02/2012
survivors' reminiscence
After four months, finally I am joining the ranks of the survivors - those who had suffered the boot camp that is HRPZ II 's O&G, and made it alive, without major mental or physical injuries.
Alhamdulillah, I can never thank Allah enough.
When I looked back, I had actually experienced pretty much everything there is to experience in an O&G posting. The labour room, the O&G clinic, the wards, the triage where district health clinics send all sorts of weird referrals, the OT, and of course, the A&E - all bear witness to my learning moments, especially since emergencies have a way of happening when I am around.
I begun as a newbie who hardly knows anything about O&G. The last time I did any serious studying on the topic was sometime in 2009, when I did my O&G posting in Fairfield General Hospital and had my November OSCEs. On my first day in the department, I was a lost soul who couldn't even find the cervix during vaginal examinations, let alone comment on the dilation of the cervical os. I stayed positive - I will surely made it.
Nevertheless, the coming events quickly challenged my resolve. Like REALLY REALLY challenged it. Plain and square, I DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO.
I didn't know how to review patients and present them properly to seniors during rounds. I didn't know what plans to make for which patients. I was all thumbs when delivering babies. I got panicked when babies went flat and nurses were telling me to help resuscitate them. I was scolded by Paediatrics MOs when I made clumsy referrals.
When making notes and clerking patients I kept making so much mistakes that MOs got tired of nagging at me. I get insulted for being so helplessly lost while assisting in the operation theatre. Add to that, working long, long hours with little rest and little food makes my head buzz, my reactions go slow, and I got scolded more, which was a vicious cycle that is slowly getting at me. There was one occasion when I felt pushed to the brink and answered back, very emotionally, at an MO who was nagging at me - I assure you the outcome wasn't pretty.
I am not exaggerating. My early days in O&G was rather bad, and quite dark. My parents had to bear listening to my crying and telling them I couldn't do this, I wanted to run away and never come back.
Throughout life so far, I thought I am a fighter who never backs off, who holds on, and never runs away. The first few days in O&G taught me otherwise, and the realisation of my own fallibility is a very humbling experience.
I don't know where does the strength come from, for me to continue trudging on the path - between the labour room beds and the wards, and the operation theatre. Almost every time I went to work feeling apprehensive and scared, what kind of tribulation is awaiting me. What kind of patient will I encounter, what kind of disapproval will I get from my MOs today. What kind of insult to my self-esteem - almost nonexistent at times nowadays - will I receive on this particular work shift. Those questions play along almost every time I walked down the stairs of my quarters, crossed the main road and brought my feet along the corridors leading to the O&G department far, far at the other end of the hospital.
And as stories like this tend to go, of course, the strength comes from Allah SWT. Indeed, when human beings feel so helpless, so weak, with nobody - nobody at all to turn to, they will turn to Allah. They will turn to Allah with all their hearts, with all their hopes and fears, presented them before Allah, acknowledging their own wretched state and begging Allah to care for their affairs.
And of course, Allah listens and cares for their affairs, as He always does. The little tests are only proofs of His love - to remind wayward humans to come back to Him, to render our dependence on Him absolute, and to cleanse us of our sins.
Those darker days began to get further and further away, as I began to gain confidence and start to enjoy the profession. I have encountered critical patients having all sorts of emergencies, and (with the presence of my MO and specialists) know what to do, within my capacity as a house officer. The calls to the operation theatre no longer bring a chill down my back, only a twinge of annoyance at the amount of paperwork I have to do after the baby/tumour/cyst/whatever was out.
When in charge of wards, I feel happy walking through the door and immediately heading to the first bed, flipping through the notes and making my own. When being second call at nights, I feel comfortable let loose, on my own, taking care of four maternity wards from 1.30 pm today till 7 am tomorrow morning. I walk up and down the labour room, checking on patients, examining them as necessary, delivering babies if I need to - and resuscitating them if they don't cry or went blue, reviewing CTGs with all sorts of patterns - reassuring, suspicious, or plain ominous that send shivers to your neck, making referrals and writing letters to various departments... as if I had never been the panicked lost house officer on her first posting who simply doesn't know what to do.
Now I am good at things I thought I will never be able to do.
Of course, I still have a lot to learn. MOs still get pissed with me from time to time, and specialists still get unhappy when I answer their questions wrong/ present cases clumsily/jot down notes incorrectly. There are still times when I get "OMG what to do what to do I'm so dead"... and there are times when I just get so overwhelmed with piling jobs I wanted to cry.
But life is so much better now, and it only reminds me of how much love and care Allah has given me.
I thought of those patients having BP crises, eclamptic patients fitting before my eyes, the ominousness when my fingers feel the widely dilated os of a mother with big baby or footling breech who ABSOLUTELY must not undergo vaginal delivery, the cord pulsating under my fingers during prolapsed cord accident, the mother with pulmonary embolism who died before my eyes after frantic active resuscitation in the ICU...
I thought of the long corridors lit by yellowish lamps in the wee hours of morning, the dominion of the second call doctor who has to go back and forth between wards, sometimes trembling with exhaustion. I thought of the labour room, perpetually bright and alive with the drama of life's arrivals. Where exhausted doctors curled up on the sofa or on the glass desk, hoping to catch a few minutes' sleep, only to be woken by shouts of "Doctor, a premature patient in labour is arriving!" or "Doctor, there's a patient with PV bleed need to be attended stat!" or perhaps, "WHERE's the HO WHO'S SUPPOSED TO GO INTO THE OT NOW?! Patient's already on table!"
And where once, about six patients were waiting to be seen at the admissions area, five of whom were leaking liquor, it was two a.m. in the morning and I was the only doctor who must see them all, preferably before five a.m., then present them to my MO. I remember feeling so tired and overwhelmed but realising that if I don't see them, nobody else will, and as long as I'm not dead or collapsed, I must see every single one of them, clerk their notes properly, take all the samples, and send them off to the ward after my MO sees them later.
Most of the time, maybe that is the thought that ran through us doctors' minds when faced with piles of jobs that sometimes feel impossible to do - if we don't do this, nobody else will, so as long as we're not dead or collapsed, we must complete these jobs. Then when we finally finish, we go home relieved, to sink into our beds and get a few hours of sleep before starting the cycle again next day.
InsyaAllah I'm starting on Medical tomorrow morning.
May Allah keep me always.
Alhamdulillah, I can never thank Allah enough.
When I looked back, I had actually experienced pretty much everything there is to experience in an O&G posting. The labour room, the O&G clinic, the wards, the triage where district health clinics send all sorts of weird referrals, the OT, and of course, the A&E - all bear witness to my learning moments, especially since emergencies have a way of happening when I am around.
I begun as a newbie who hardly knows anything about O&G. The last time I did any serious studying on the topic was sometime in 2009, when I did my O&G posting in Fairfield General Hospital and had my November OSCEs. On my first day in the department, I was a lost soul who couldn't even find the cervix during vaginal examinations, let alone comment on the dilation of the cervical os. I stayed positive - I will surely made it.
Nevertheless, the coming events quickly challenged my resolve. Like REALLY REALLY challenged it. Plain and square, I DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO.
I didn't know how to review patients and present them properly to seniors during rounds. I didn't know what plans to make for which patients. I was all thumbs when delivering babies. I got panicked when babies went flat and nurses were telling me to help resuscitate them. I was scolded by Paediatrics MOs when I made clumsy referrals.
When making notes and clerking patients I kept making so much mistakes that MOs got tired of nagging at me. I get insulted for being so helplessly lost while assisting in the operation theatre. Add to that, working long, long hours with little rest and little food makes my head buzz, my reactions go slow, and I got scolded more, which was a vicious cycle that is slowly getting at me. There was one occasion when I felt pushed to the brink and answered back, very emotionally, at an MO who was nagging at me - I assure you the outcome wasn't pretty.
I am not exaggerating. My early days in O&G was rather bad, and quite dark. My parents had to bear listening to my crying and telling them I couldn't do this, I wanted to run away and never come back.
Throughout life so far, I thought I am a fighter who never backs off, who holds on, and never runs away. The first few days in O&G taught me otherwise, and the realisation of my own fallibility is a very humbling experience.
I don't know where does the strength come from, for me to continue trudging on the path - between the labour room beds and the wards, and the operation theatre. Almost every time I went to work feeling apprehensive and scared, what kind of tribulation is awaiting me. What kind of patient will I encounter, what kind of disapproval will I get from my MOs today. What kind of insult to my self-esteem - almost nonexistent at times nowadays - will I receive on this particular work shift. Those questions play along almost every time I walked down the stairs of my quarters, crossed the main road and brought my feet along the corridors leading to the O&G department far, far at the other end of the hospital.
And as stories like this tend to go, of course, the strength comes from Allah SWT. Indeed, when human beings feel so helpless, so weak, with nobody - nobody at all to turn to, they will turn to Allah. They will turn to Allah with all their hearts, with all their hopes and fears, presented them before Allah, acknowledging their own wretched state and begging Allah to care for their affairs.
And of course, Allah listens and cares for their affairs, as He always does. The little tests are only proofs of His love - to remind wayward humans to come back to Him, to render our dependence on Him absolute, and to cleanse us of our sins.
Those darker days began to get further and further away, as I began to gain confidence and start to enjoy the profession. I have encountered critical patients having all sorts of emergencies, and (with the presence of my MO and specialists) know what to do, within my capacity as a house officer. The calls to the operation theatre no longer bring a chill down my back, only a twinge of annoyance at the amount of paperwork I have to do after the baby/tumour/cyst/whatever was out.
When in charge of wards, I feel happy walking through the door and immediately heading to the first bed, flipping through the notes and making my own. When being second call at nights, I feel comfortable let loose, on my own, taking care of four maternity wards from 1.30 pm today till 7 am tomorrow morning. I walk up and down the labour room, checking on patients, examining them as necessary, delivering babies if I need to - and resuscitating them if they don't cry or went blue, reviewing CTGs with all sorts of patterns - reassuring, suspicious, or plain ominous that send shivers to your neck, making referrals and writing letters to various departments... as if I had never been the panicked lost house officer on her first posting who simply doesn't know what to do.
Now I am good at things I thought I will never be able to do.
Of course, I still have a lot to learn. MOs still get pissed with me from time to time, and specialists still get unhappy when I answer their questions wrong/ present cases clumsily/jot down notes incorrectly. There are still times when I get "OMG what to do what to do I'm so dead"... and there are times when I just get so overwhelmed with piling jobs I wanted to cry.
But life is so much better now, and it only reminds me of how much love and care Allah has given me.
I thought of those patients having BP crises, eclamptic patients fitting before my eyes, the ominousness when my fingers feel the widely dilated os of a mother with big baby or footling breech who ABSOLUTELY must not undergo vaginal delivery, the cord pulsating under my fingers during prolapsed cord accident, the mother with pulmonary embolism who died before my eyes after frantic active resuscitation in the ICU...
I thought of the long corridors lit by yellowish lamps in the wee hours of morning, the dominion of the second call doctor who has to go back and forth between wards, sometimes trembling with exhaustion. I thought of the labour room, perpetually bright and alive with the drama of life's arrivals. Where exhausted doctors curled up on the sofa or on the glass desk, hoping to catch a few minutes' sleep, only to be woken by shouts of "Doctor, a premature patient in labour is arriving!" or "Doctor, there's a patient with PV bleed need to be attended stat!" or perhaps, "WHERE's the HO WHO'S SUPPOSED TO GO INTO THE OT NOW?! Patient's already on table!"
And where once, about six patients were waiting to be seen at the admissions area, five of whom were leaking liquor, it was two a.m. in the morning and I was the only doctor who must see them all, preferably before five a.m., then present them to my MO. I remember feeling so tired and overwhelmed but realising that if I don't see them, nobody else will, and as long as I'm not dead or collapsed, I must see every single one of them, clerk their notes properly, take all the samples, and send them off to the ward after my MO sees them later.
Most of the time, maybe that is the thought that ran through us doctors' minds when faced with piles of jobs that sometimes feel impossible to do - if we don't do this, nobody else will, so as long as we're not dead or collapsed, we must complete these jobs. Then when we finally finish, we go home relieved, to sink into our beds and get a few hours of sleep before starting the cycle again next day.
InsyaAllah I'm starting on Medical tomorrow morning.
May Allah keep me always.
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