True Story

Was having a farewell dinner with my beloved family last night when I received an urgent call.

When we rushed to the hospital, we headed to the emergency room only to find out that the patient was still inside the operation room.

None of us can sit still though grandpa and his youngest brother were chatting away but I know, they were as worried as we were.

The chilly room increased our nervousness.

Someone told us that the wife is on the fourth floor, hospitalised since don't-know-when.

On the fourth floor, I stared at the OSK for a long time. It was a weird graphic, rare one, not the usual picture I saw in movies. It was a line, long-gapped with small, short pointed hills. I noticed my mum was staring at it too. Before it hit us, one of the nurses came to us and asked if we were her family members. We told her we were her relatives, and nurse then asked for her husband. Mum told nurse that husband met with an accident hours ago and was still in the emergency room. Nurse was shocked and symphatised the dying wife.

Moments later, husband was out from the emergency room. Bruised left eye, stitched forehead, blood-clogged nose, swollen wrists, and broken ribs. Hurt him most even with a little poke. Fresh blood stained on white bed sheets under his bald head. The urge to cry was there the moment I saw this old man laying helplessly on the bed. The inability to readjust himself to lay in a better, comfortable posture on the bed like how he can do by himself before the accident pierced my heart so much. My poor grandpa's brother.

He does not even know his wife is dying on the same night, in the same hospital and on the same block. Their children were not by their sides. Not even one. Only us, the outsiders were they. How sad. We decided not to tell him the bad news. Let their kids tell him soon when they come. IF they come is what I mean. I feel so sorry for them.

Really.