3.
THE UNFORESEEN
(Nad)
I look at the
screen of my iPhone, and re-read the newly received text. Looking at the
sender, I recalled Im’s first message to me, after the incident near the common
room last December.
“Assalamualaikum,
Nadhia. I’m sorry if I disturb you with anything. Got your number from Syaz. I
just want you to know, you don’t have to be insecure with me if we have the
chance to “meet” again. And I don’t mean to be busybody but the bruises that I
saw last Saturday were very serious. Are you alright? Have you gone to the
medics? Well, I think it needs some treatment. Hope to hear from you soon. Im.”
No one could
tell how my feeling at that time was. He sort of showed his concerns in me. But
the feelings were indescribable. I thanked him, and replied that I was fine. I
lied saying I got the bruises from the marathon trainings; well it makes sense
if you run to a light pole. I know lying to him won’t make me feel better, won’t
change anything, and simply just add my sin. O Allah, please forgive your
slave. And I don’t know the causes, then.
We exchanged texts a few times in December,
mostly in the matter of studies, asking on certain matter of topics that he claimed he did not comprehend, which
surprised me because Im is no ordinary student. Well to compare with me, he is.
He was the President of the Medical Students’ Council back in Matriculation
Center. He talks as if he is a law student. But I don’t want to get my hopes
high, and so I disapprove all the thoughts that as if he really cared about me,
and that he wants to know me better.
I don’t have
much time for that kind of hopes. No, not much time. Im’s first message of the New
Year, really motivated me, but in other way, I tried as hard as I could to take
his message as a friendly text, and not more than that. After all, looking at how he greeted in the message, I assumed it's a New Year wish for all of his friends. The message was before
we stumbled into each other at the stadium- yes, the awkward moment.
“Assalamualaikum
to all my friends. May this January leads us closer to Him. Let’s not forget our
responsibilities as duats. Being twenty sooner or later would change the fact
that time doesn’t gets slower in its pace. I remember my BTQ Sir said that ‘who
are going to spread the true message of Islam, if it’s not all of you
(referring to us students) who learn about it quite thoroughly here. What can
you do for Islam? You should ask yourselves that question every day when you
wakes up in the morning…’ Well something like that. I hope each of us would not
let go of our responsibilities that we have. Let’s strive harder each and every
day to become a better Mukmin. In
(63:8): ‘And the greatness (only) belongs to Allah, and His Messenger, and the
Mukminoon’. J Im”
Not shortly
after we met coincidentally at the stadium, I got a text from Im. It was dated
2nd January and the time was 4 pm. He asked why I cried that morning.
He asked if I got hurt again. He asked again where I’ve been these entire long.
And to the extent, saying that I shouldn’t keep everything to myself. Also
asking whether Syaz knows about my condition, well we being best buddies and
all, because Syaz isn’t telling anything to him or to anyone. Well I made her
do that. I replied;
“Wassalam,
Im. This morning was very awkward and odd. I know. No, I wasn’t crying because
of what you said, somewhat hurt? I wasn’t. (Well, I wasn’t really crying because of the bruises
I’ve got) Don’t, worry. Syaz
knows about whatever that is happening to me. And it’s not like I prefer to
keep everything to myself, it’s just that sometimes, things are better left
unspoken.
Please,
just don’t bother about me. You could just imply that I’ve got problems that I
don’t wish to share it to the world. And that’s why I’m not the same anymore.
All the best always, Im. May Allah ease everything for you. Nad “
Three days
have passed since I showed my red-rimmed eyes to Im at the stadium. Three days
have passed since my Converse stepped onto the red pavement of IIUM’s entrance.
And three days have passed since I left home and got re-admitted to the
hospital. Today marks the date January
the 4th.
And the text?
Of course he replied back and asked more questions that I know he could guess
I’m not going to reply them. I never bother to reply it. I turned my head to
the right side of the room, and look at the calendar that is placed next to me
on the side table. 20 more days to go and I’m officially 20 years old. I heard
the door creaked open, and a medium-height, good looking guy came towards me, behind
him, a woman of mid-thirties is carrying a tray, on it a small cup of tablets.
The doctor
smiled at me and said, “Are you ready for the treatment, Nadhia? You have to
take your pills first and after 2 hours Miss Husna will administer your
medication.” I just nodded. I took my pills, and lie down again. Mom is at work
again after taking care of me overnight, but dad will join mom later to
accompany me undergoing my first “treatment”.
I suddenly
remember the memory of 3 weeks old; the last time when I ran away from Miss
Lisa, the last time when I finally understood the reasons behind those bruises.
{
I was home
shortly after my mom called me she would fetch me from my hostel on that day
Miss Lisa found out about my bruises. “Miss Lisa called me and told me what
happened. We’ll deal with her later but now let me see the bruises.”
Obediently, I allow my mother to examine me.
Worriedly she
said, “There really are lots of bruises, honey. Are you sure you don’t where
you got them?” “No, I don’t. Its okay mom, I feel fine. It’s probably the flu.”
But mom wasn’t buying it. She then grabs the car keys and said, “Get ready,
we’ve got to go and see the doctor.”
I touched the glands in my neck and realized
they were swollen. I can’t get sick now I’ve got a major debate competition
coming up in less than 6 weeks, not to mention the new semester is starting in a
month. After 45 minutes’ drive, we’ve arrived at the General Hospital. Dr Mila,
welcomed us with her warm smile, a pretty woman in the late thirties, has
always been one of my favourite doctors.
Our last
meeting was when I was 10, I’ve got viral fever, and she took care of me with
so much attention. Dr Mila’s examination was routine. She checked me with sure,
confident fingers, feeling my swollen glands and bruises, and then takes my
blood sample. I squeezed my eyes shut as the needle pricked my right arm.
“It’s just flu,
isn’t it Doctor?” I asked as Dr Mila secured my puncture with a bandage. On
some point I felt that mom’s idea of bringing me here is a good one, because I
could never been less than curious ever since I got these bruises and just now
realized that my glands are swollen too.
Dr Addin gave
me a professional non-committal smile. “It’s something. We can’t be sure with
that yet.” “What do you think it is?” My mom asked uneasily. “I don’t like the
look of those bruises. And you young girl, should’ve told me earlier. Dad is
going to be cross with this and worried sick too.”
Mom looked at
me with a sad face. I never meant to worry her; I don’t want to become a
trouble in our “new” family. Things were getting fine since two years ago, but
now? I just want to go back home and have some rest, while hoping that tomorrow
everything will return back as normal. Normal like a month ago.
Dr Mila breaks
my thought by saying, “It could be as simple as anaemia. That is common in
girls as early as sixteen.” “Then I’ll take iron pills,” I said, relieved.
“Nadhia made the International Debate Competition,” my mother said, as if that
might influence the doctor in some way.
“I can go
back to the college, can’t I?” I asked. But Dr Mila didn’t respond to either of
us, instead she made her way to the peach coloured door and said, “I want to
check a blood smear under the microscope. I’ll be right back.” I turned towards
mom and said, “It’s going to be alright mom,” and I put my arms around her neck
and hug her.
Frankly, I
had been feeling bad about this, worried about myself and been asking what has
been happening to myself all along. “Insha Allah, let’s hope so.” My mom
reassured me with another long and big hug. Dr Mila returned her expression
unreadable. She positioned herself in front of me. “Your red blood count is
low…”
I gave a
quick relief smile. “Then just write me a prescription on iron pills. I’ll take
them truly. I promise” I said while gesturing a “scouts’ honour”. She held up
her hand. “Whoa it’s not that simple. Your white blood cells on the other hand
is rather high, Nadhia.”
“So?” I asked, puzzled.
“So, I will need you to stay here for a few days for testing.”
I think my heart might have stopped beating. The hospital? “The hospital, doctor?” My mom said my thought aloud. “Is it really necessary? Is it really serious? I can’t afford to leave college now. We’ve got preparations before the debate competition. And it’s less than 10 weeks from now,” I protested.
“Is this absolutely necessary Dr Mila?” Mom’s
voice sounded tense. The doctor with the black rimmed-spectacles answered, “Yes.
It’s imperative that we find out what’s ailing Nadhia.” I wanted to ask what is
she testing for, but I could sense that Dr Mila won’t tell me.
Instead I
asked, “When do I have to go Doctor?” “The sooner, the better. My receptionist
will call and have your admitting papers prepared by tomorrow.” She said and
gave me a comfort pat on the shoulder.
The next
thing I know I’m admitted to the hospital, got a pint of blood a day, Syaz
going crazy because I never confide to her about me not feeling well lately,
and the biggest thing that became less bigger after I found out what bugs me is
the bone marrow aspiration on the 7th day of my stay at the “Hotel
General”.
I nervous-laugh
whenever my parents or my sister asked about my condition, and Syaz kept
treating me as if I’m a little girl who needs full attention, I acted all
courageous whenever they were around. I even reminded Syaz to take all notes
that I’ll miss during lectures, and keep all of my assignments. But when
visiting hours were over, I was left alone, I plucked the bed sheets and the
bravado drowned with the night sounds that echoed around me. I was scared.
My lips can’t
stop from reciting dzikr, and like my dad always said to me when things are
tough, “do lots of dzikr of Ya Haleem (The Most Compassionate), Ya Muhaymin
(The Guardian) and Ya Salam (The Source of Peace) besides keep reciting Ayatul
Kursi and the three Quls (Surah Al Ikhlas, Al Falaq, An Naas)”. And I found out
the right side of the pillow was drenched with my tears the next morning.
The D-Day;
bone marrow aspiration. The technicians came for me early in the morning. The
first thing that they did was electrocardiogram. This was to rule out the
rheumatic fever, the woman in the blue lab coat said. I asked, “Rheumatic fever
causes heart damage, isn’t it?” But as soon as I uttered the question, the
thought terrified me.
“What causes it?” I asked again. Although I
might have a hunch because I remember Fik asked about in in our last lecture to
Sir Rahman. “Untreated strep,” the nurse said. I swallowed against my scratchy
throat. Could I have had strep throat and overlooked it long enough to have
caused rheumatic fever to develop?
However, the
bone marrow aspiration was not less pleasant then the electrocardiogram. They
placed me on the examination table on my stomach, with a pillow tucked under my
pelvis. The nurse cleaned my hip area with iodine and next, she applied a
cooling spray which she explained “this is a local anaesthetic, Nadhia. It will
numb the site so you won’t feel anything while the needle is going in. We’ll
insert it in the spongy part of the bone where your marrow is manufactured and
don’t worry, it won’t take but a few seconds to withdraw the cells we required
for the lab analysis.”
It annoys me
a little that she had to explain this basic knowledge. I clutched the metal
edge of the table, determined to hold my pupils focus on the cream coloured
wall in front of me and not being distracted with the syringe that looked a
foot long. I gritted my teeth as pressure, then pain, overcame me. It felt as
if a vacuum sucked something from inside of me. It was horrible.
{
“If God
brings you to it, He will bring you through it” I slide through my iPhone and
saw this quote from someone’s Tumblr. The next picture said, “Allah won’t
burden you with something you couldn’t bear.” I realized this quote is taken
from a Quranic verse. Tears drop slowly from my eyes as I browse through the
pictures that eventually motivate me. Ya Allah, I don’t know if I could endure
this test, this seems unbearable. But I also don’t know what’s Your plan, and I
surrender everything to You. Ya Rahman, Ya Raheem, please give me strength.
My lips
trembled as tears kept flowing, and I couldn’t stop recite the istighfar as I
recalled the conversations I had with Dr Mila and my family in the ward just
half an hour ago, after we have the results from the bone marrow test.
{
I laughed a
nervous laugh. Dr Mila sounded irrational and my family, hovering around my bed
with disturbed looks, which reminds me of a silent movie. “I don’t believe you.
You have been mistaken. I’m going twenty in less than a month. I’m still young,
how could I possibly have leukaemia?”
Dr Mila
slightly squeezed my arm and said, “The bone marrow aspiration confirmed it,
Nadhia. Leukaemia is a blood disorder. It occurs when young white blood cells
reproduce abnormally and crowd out the normal ones. They take up the spaces of
red blood cells and platelets. Platelets cause your blood to clot normally and
because your supply is low, that’s why you get bruises easily. Without enough
red blood cells to carry oxygen, you become anaemic. That’s the reason why
you’ve become tired all the time, and you always look pale.”
Tears weld up
in my eyes, and as dad touched my arm, mom approached me and hugged me, and Nasuha,
my younger and only sister, looked at me with sad looking eyes, I couldn’t stop
the tears from falling anymore. I cried, hard, and I never thought I could cry
as much as this.
I heard dad
almost whispered ‘innalillah…’ Mom wiped the non-stop flowing tears on my
cheeks, and comfortingly said, “Insha Allah, we will fight it Nadhia. We’ve got
the best medical help available. We will fight it.” Dr Mila cleared her throat.
“Over the past few years Medicine has made great advancements for different
kinds of leukaemia treatment. Despite the fact that we have no cure for the
disease, we do have sophisticated ways of dealing with it, insha Allah. The
vital thing now is Nadhia should begin treatment as soon as possible.”
“What kind of
treatment?” Dad and I asked at the same time. “Traditional treatments include
chemotherapy. Once we initiate chemo, we’ll expect an improvement. It will take
several days to establish the right combination of drugs, but our goal is to
get you into remission as quickly as possible. Remission is a decrease,
sometimes a reversal, of your symptoms. After we achieve remission you will go
on to maintenance.”
Dr Mila continued,
“Once initial treatments do their job and healthy blood-forming tissue begins
to regrow, you’ll take oral medication. You only have to come to the clinic
every few weeks for testing and possible further IV chemotherapy. The longer
you remain in remission, the better your chances for complete recovery.”
“And if there
is no recovery?” My mind was spinning, but somehow the question popped out from
my mouth. Dr Mila’s expression grew sombre, and she touched my arm; her eyes
are filled with deep empathy. “I believe in being honest with my patients,
Nadhia, because being truthful is necessary for them to actively participate in
the treatment of their disease. I’m not going to lie to you, but I won’t be
leaving with you without hope either. If you remain in a continuous first
remission for five years, we considered you cured.”
“And if I don’t?” “We shall try for second
remission. We also consider a bone marrow transplant. That’s mean we graft healthy
marrow from a biologically compatible donor into your marrow.” Suddenly, I felt
overwhelmed by too much information from Dr Mila and my head felt like it’s
going to split into two. Ya Allah, why me? Tears kept flowing and dad grab a
hold of me. I shield my face onto his chest, and keep on sobbing on his shirt.
I couldn’t
stand anymore information from Dr Mila. Mercifully, my mother interrupted.
“What are you going to do with Nadhia right now?” “Today we will do a lumbar
puncture. We’ll take fluid from around Nadhia’s spinal cord and examine it to
determine whether the leukemic cells have invaded your central nervous system.
That test will also help us to decide on the best drugs combination to begin
fighting your leukaemia.”
I suddenly
realized that my body has become a war zone. My internal defences no longer
controlled whatever happens inside me.
“When will you start the drugs?”
“Tomorrow.”
“That soon?”
“Clinically,
the disease progresses rapidly. We must begin the test immediately.” The warmth
of Dr Mila’s hands on my bare arm caused me to nod almost subtly. “Do it, so
that I could be as soon as possible at home.”
{
2
hours has passed, and Miss Husna came in with Dr Mila and the handsome doctor, Dr Hafiz. “Okay Nur Nadhia Rania,
your treatment shall begin now.”
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