“Tapi… kan jauh.”
for a moment,
i forgot.
forgot that here,
distance is not just a number on a signboard.
sometimes, distance is a reason.
a father came in with his little child -
for a moment,
i forgot.
forgot that here,
distance is not just a number on a signboard.
sometimes, distance is a reason.
a father came in with his little child -
skin warm,
shirt damp with sweat,
eyes tired from too many days of fever.
38.6°C.
“dah berapa lama tak sihat?”
“dah satu minggu, doktor.”
“tak bagi ubat?”
“belum..tiada ubat di rumah..mandi-mandi je dia..tapi tak kebah..selalunya okay..tapi kali ni, tak mahu makan juga.”
i looked at the child.
quiet.
lethargic.
the kind of tired that somehow makes the room feel quieter too.
shirt damp with sweat,
eyes tired from too many days of fever.
38.6°C.
“dah berapa lama tak sihat?”
“dah satu minggu, doktor.”
“tak bagi ubat?”
“belum..tiada ubat di rumah..mandi-mandi je dia..tapi tak kebah..selalunya okay..tapi kali ni, tak mahu makan juga.”
i looked at the child.
quiet.
lethargic.
the kind of tired that somehow makes the room feel quieter too.
sigh.
“kenapa tak datang awal-awal?”
it wasn’t anger.
just worry.
the kind that slips out before you remember that not everyone has the same road to reach you.
the father looked at me.
“Maaf, Dr...”
a small pause.
“Jauh kami.”
and suddenly, everything made sense.
Jauh.
Far.
a word so simple, yet heavy enough to explain one week.
a week of waiting.
a week of hoping the fever would go down.
a week of trying with whatever they had.
as here, going to the hospital is not always as simple as deciding to go. sometimes there are roads that stretch longer than expected.
petrol to think about.
money to save.
transport to find.
someone to send you.
someone to stay behind.
and sometimes, all you can do is wait for tomorrow
and hope tomorrow will be kinder.
this brought me to the thought of the many people i had seen before.
one day of fever;
still smiling.
still eating.
still scrolling through their phones.
some angry because the wait was too long.
some insisting they were too sick to wait - with food still warm in their hands.
and then there was the father.
a father with a genuinely sick child, standing quietly in front of me, after travelling who knows how far, and still saying,
“maaf, Dr.”
as if he was the inconvenience.
as if coming for help - was something he needed to apologise for.
my heart sank.
that part stayed with me.
maybe we become too comfortable sometimes.
too comfortable with things that have always been close.
a clinic nearby.
a car outside.
a hospital within reach.
a road we know.
enough petrol.
still eating.
still scrolling through their phones.
some angry because the wait was too long.
some insisting they were too sick to wait - with food still warm in their hands.
and then there was the father.
a father with a genuinely sick child, standing quietly in front of me, after travelling who knows how far, and still saying,
“maaf, Dr.”
as if he was the inconvenience.
as if coming for help - was something he needed to apologise for.
my heart sank.
that part stayed with me.
maybe we become too comfortable sometimes.
too comfortable with things that have always been close.
a clinic nearby.
a car outside.
a hospital within reach.
a road we know.
enough petrol.
someone to call.
and slowly,
we stop seeing these things as blessings.
we call them normal.
but normal - is different for everyone.
maybe that is what this place is slowly teaching me - that not every late arrival, comes from carelessness.
sometimes, there is a long road behind it.
sometimes, there is no transport.
sometimes, there is not enough money.
sometimes, there is only hope that things will get better on their own.
and slowly,
we stop seeing these things as blessings.
we call them normal.
but normal - is different for everyone.
maybe that is what this place is slowly teaching me - that not every late arrival, comes from carelessness.
sometimes, there is a long road behind it.
sometimes, there is no transport.
sometimes, there is not enough money.
sometimes, there is only hope that things will get better on their own.
and sometimes, before asking, “kenapa lambat datang?”
maybe we should remember - they may already have travelled farther than we could imagine; just to reach us.
so, complain a little less.
be grateful a little more.
and be kinder
before deciding someone should have done better.
as what feels ordinary to us
may be someone else’s privilege.
and sometimes, all it takes is one quiet sentence - “jauh kami, Dr,”
--to remind us how close we have always been to things we never thought to be thankful for.
maybe we should remember - they may already have travelled farther than we could imagine; just to reach us.
so, complain a little less.
be grateful a little more.
and be kinder
before deciding someone should have done better.
as what feels ordinary to us
may be someone else’s privilege.
and sometimes, all it takes is one quiet sentence - “jauh kami, Dr,”
--to remind us how close we have always been to things we never thought to be thankful for.
be nice
be kind
be a tiny ray of light in the middle of other's gloomy days
xoxo,
yanie
