Cranky without Makan

So, the new English teacher asks me to type out my compo (and Ringo's too), so she can mass produce 'em and I've had to type it anyways to send it to Mdm Yani. So...I might as well...Pardon the writing, had to digest it so that it'll be acceptable for teachers; or in this case Reader's Digest it, considering this is for some Reader's Digest competition. Skip to the end for the usual update.

The Day That Changed Raymond Angelo's Life

There we were; elder brother and younger brother, seated in the waiting area of the Emergency Ward of the Children’s Hospital. My brother, Ryan, had his head on my lap, half-awake, bordering consciousness. He was warm, his breath haggard, effortful and purposeful. I just sat there, with my portable gaming console. My fingers were rubbed raw at the rabid twiddling of thumbs. I did not mind though, anything to distract me from the situation I was in.

Turn back the clock to the morning of that day. It was a weekday, though what day exactly I fail to recall. Just having been aroused from my sleep ready to take a shower, my maid alerted me to my youngest brother’s illness. A fever at least that was what it appeared to be. I checked it for myself, just to be sure; 40 degrees Celsius, a definite fever. Both of my parents were out of the country working, Mother in the United Kingdom and Father just off-shore in Batam. Mother stays in abroad for a month or two, then in Singpaore for another month or two. On Father’s case, he returns to Singapore every weekend. I knew they were doing it for us, so it never affected me much. My maid managed the domestic matters; it is only cases such as that day where I don the role of “eldest”.

As my maid spoke little English, my parents handed me the responsibility of bringing my brother to the doctor. Of course, I had to miss school but that was just a sacrifice gladly made. So, I missed school that day, instead of taking the bus, I took a cab to the nearby medical clinic with my maid and sick brother in tow. I was relaxed; I had an unexpected yet welcome break.

All was normal; a routine check-up, at least until the actual check-up began. From the doctor’s diagnosis, it was appendicitis. The doctor asked where Mother and Father were but told him I was the one responsible. Everything was explained. The doctor’s diagnosis was only based on superficial examinations. It was not cast in stone yet. He might be wrong. We were directed to the Children’s Hospital where further tests will be conducted and from then, who knows? I feared for the worst yet buttered my words when reporting to Mother and Father, as if everything was fine, when nothing was.

At the Children’s Hospital, we were directed to the Emergency Ward. Surely it was not as serious as the word “Emergency” implied. We say yet another doctor; another nerve-wrecking check-up: Temperature, urine, the works. The conclusion? Even further checks had to be done. Secretly, I hoped that it was all a conspiracy, there was no wrong in my brother’s anatomy, just a façade to swindle our money. My brother was to be detained in the hospital for “further observations”. I hated the doctor’s condescending attitude, the round-about-manner at which he replied my questions. He asked for Mother and Father; “They are not around. It’s complicated”.

And apparently, so was everything else.

It turned out that before my brother could be admitted into the hospital, a relative’s signature was required. I was a relative, but not of age yet. My maid was of age, but not a relative. There was no signature, curse the rigid paperwork. My father promised to come as soon as possible. My maid had to rush off then, so me and my brother waited together.

And thus, we return to the beginning of this essay.

I was irritated. Both my parents were on the phone; Father speaking to me and Mother on the line waiting impatiently. Both were anxious. They bombarded me with questions, hard, fast and piercing, though both’s ammunition were similar. “What’s the reason?”, “Is he going to be alright”, “What must be done”. It was an infinitely long list, yet most of it the same, only in different wordings. Some I answered to the best of my abilities, but some questions I had neglected to enquire. When this happened, I was scolded as if it was my fault, as if they were not to be blamed for being out of the country at that moment. In the end, I barged into the doctor’s office and gave my phone to him. He is the ones with the answers after all. Father would only return at the end of the day, Mother, whenever the next flight to Singapore was. Until then, it was me against the world, at least, that was my general sentiment.

For a few hours we waited. Being in the hospital was frustrating. The smell of sanitized everything, the white-washed walls, the nurses with ideal personalities; it was too clean, untainted by the ravages of the outside, when clearly, everyone inside had something to cleanse out of them. The despair was palpable, an overall feel of not wanting to be there. The television hung on the ceiling was muted; reduced to a mime while the stack of outdated music magazines were left untouched in a pile of fibre. Occasionally my brother would stir. The doctor’s told me that there was no reason to worry as even if it was appendicitis, it was still in the early stages. However, I knew from personal experience and the way I had acted before that one should learn not to trust the words of others and every cough or wheeze had me panicking.

As I sat on the chairs of the wards which were uncomfortable no matter the position, I cursed my dilemma. Never before had I been so helpless. The doctors had treated me like a child, as if just because I was not old meant I could be treated like a child. I had been left with the responsibility adults have, and in my opinion, I should be given the same amount of respect, the same level of authority. I cared for my brother sincerely, yet for him, I could do nothing but stay by his side and worry, as the gears of the clock were moved by the adults in our world. I wept invisible tears, sobbed inaudible whimpers. The combination of a loved-ones undecided faith, the helplessness despite the willingness to do so and the eternal wait. With my brother’s head on my lap, his faith in a way, on my shoulders, my disdain magnified.

Finally, Father arrived. I was grateful that he could relief me of my burden. He asked the doctor’s questions that he had asked me earlier, as if he didn’t trust me, but I did not say a thing. I had no place in that world that was how it appeared.

As I reflect on that day, I realize its significance. It had given me feeling similar to what a parent might feel for their sick child. It had taught me that the adult world is far more complicated that I could grasp, that I was still pure and young. It was also on that day that I fully awakened to my responsibilities as a big brother, and it tightened our invisible bond.

Hilariously enough, the appendicitis turned out to be something less fatal. Perhaps my conspiracy theories are true. After two days, my brother was discharged. The irony of how false information can bring about personal growth of a teenage elder brother is astounding.

Usual update will be up tomorrow morning. Tired lah, and cranky. It's going to be a long weekend so hooray for that. Tomorrow, expect Scrabble in the library, the SYF, "my girlfriends" and me going "CheeBye" lotsa times.