Thus, once again I packed my bags and took the train with my constant companion, Habibah. The course we were to take were the first of its kind run for overseas graduate students; a one year course. Later I found out, that the syllabus were mostly prepared almost impromptu; the government not really knowing what to do with us graduates from overseas universities. For most of the time, it was just a trial and error teaching for us. At one time, when we were taught how to cook a simple dish, even the guys found it rather humorous. I remember one guy who cooked even better than the lecturer can theorise. And why not, he said, he was living on his own in UK for five years, you would wonder who did his cooking all that while? And another example at how ridiculously unprepared the ministry was, for our Islamic studies classes, we were assessed based on what activities we did whilst we were studying abroad. For the love of God! What has that to do with our present attendance there for the course. I was reluctant to disclose my activities in the UK, and it was no surprise that I got a big fat C for my religious studies in the first semester. Forget the fact that I wear the hijab, or that I pray five times a day, or that I could recite a few verses of the Quran by heart. Oh well...there are more important things in life than an academic grade based on how much you reveal you private activities.
Life was going slow enough until mid July '85 when my husband completed his studies and came to join me in Johore. By then I was doing my six-week teaching practical stint in Benut, Pontian. I had rented one room to share with my husband in a huge semi-detached bungalow in Pontian, whilst my other friends occupied the other rooms. Not long after, my husband got his appointment letter with the then Jabatan Telekom, and had to return to Kuala Lumpur for his probation period.
It was at this time, in between practical teaching, attending classes and going back to Klang over the weekends, that I realised I was not feeling quite my normal self. I suddenly found myself very choosy over my food and with special craving for some. I was feeling tired and sleepy most of the time. Habibah was worried that my kidney condition was getting worse and fussed over me. Yet, somehow, deep inside me, call it my motherly instinct, I knew it had nothing to do with my illness. Somehow, even before the test at the clinic, I knew I was pregnant.(this same instinct I felt with all subsequent pregnancies).
It was a really tough first trimester for me. I just could not bring in more than a few morsels of rice. All I could tolerate was plain tea and plain cream crackers. My condition grew progressively worse, until one day I had to be admitted for risk of ketonuria. I was just not eating enough, until my body had no choice but to convert the fats on my body as energy source. (see appendix). This was a medical emergency, so I was admitted and immediately glucose was administered into my system via intravenous injection (the drip).
And so, once again I was back in touch with the hospital – this time in the Sultanah Aminah Hospital in Johor Bahru. Once again I was referred to the Nephrology Department, and to a specialist. Now, being a biologist, it did cross my mind if my pregnancy would aggravate my renal condition. I was ready for any consequences. Meeting up with the specialist in the hospital was an utter disappointment, I must say. I was about 8 weeks pregnant, and I was willing to discuss options. All the questions the specialist had asked me had nothing what so ever to do with my condition. Instead, he was asking about a colleague of mine from the college – asking me if she was married, if she was soft spoken, if she was friendly, if she had a boyfriend. For the love of God ... what has my colleague in college got to do with my appointment today? Please don’t tell me I had waited for so long only to be asked these absolutely irrelevant questions.
Finally I got the break I needed and started needling him with questions of my own. I asked him directly if it was clinically okay for me to keep this pregnancy. I was in my early stage, and I was ready to discuss options if I had to. And I asked him what I should do to maintain maximum kidney functions. His answer? “Oh of course, renal problem will not affect your pregnancy, and to maintain your kidney functions I suggest you eat one damn egg every day.” I swear to God Almighty, these were his words!
The paradox of his statement which kept on reeling in my mind was that I had learnt in my final year of Biology (and learnt it with deep interest) that, when the kidneys are diseased, or impaired, protein was the first thing that should be cut down. And here the doctor was telling me to take one damn egg every single day. I was utterly confused. All I could tell myself was he was the specialist, I was just a 24 year old first time mother to be, and teacher to be...what do I know?
By the time November 1985 came, I had finished my one year course in Johor and was back in Klang with my husband and my parents awaiting my first teaching posting. My pregnancy seemed to be progressing well and I was eager to continue with my follow up to chart my progress. Since I had an uncle who was a renal specialist (borrowed from Indonesia) in Kuala Lumpur General Hospital, my father thought it would be a good idea for me to get my treatment there. After all, the GH KL Nephrology department was fast becoming one of the most advanced department in the Asean Region. Thankfully, with my uncle’s influence I was referred to the Nephrology Department without much of a hassle.
When I first met the specialist there, I handed to him all the documents and test results from the Salford Royal Hospital. Somehow or other, from hence on, he would refer to me as The Salford girl. But perhaps, that was the only “nice” moment in the appointment. Immediately when I told him I was in my fifth month of pregnancy, he was shocked; and immediately told me to terminate my pregnancy. What? Terminate my pregnancy? When I can already feel him moving inside me? And what of the specialist in Johor Bahru who told me I could keep my pregnancy. This is absurd! The hell I was going to give up my baby now! I had been open minded, open to suggestions when my baby was still early in his foetal stage. But now I was dead set to keep my baby.
(c) norhafizah manaf
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