"whatever" it takes

Now, the phrase “whatever it takes” has a long, dark and twisty past to it. It began years ago when I was still too little to understand anything, yet old enough to remember.

And as I grew older, my mom filled me in with the sad details of the things that happened back in the day.

One of my late cousins once dated a Chinese guy. I don’t know what aunt has against Chinese, but I am positively sure it isn’t racism, seeing that she was born Chinese herself. But point is, she didn’t like him and most definitely didn’t like her being with him.

When my late cousin dropped hints of tying the knot with the Chinese guy, I was told that one of the things my aunt said was, “Aku taknak dia kahwin dengan laki Cino tu, tak kisah apo pun nak jadi!” (I don’t want her to marry that Chinese guy, whatever it takes!)

And so, it took my late cousin’s life, who passed away from a motor accident.

I know that her death was probably already written. But we all know that doa ibu juga makbul. No doubt no one can tell whether the union would have lasted or would have been happy one, but now, no one will ever know.

Since then, everyone in my family has been careful not to over exert the phrase “whatever it takes”

But as you would have already read in my previous post, I prayed to Allah to protect my parents, whatever it takes. And it took away my Aunt’s Visa application. I know that it’s selfish to feel good about another person’s misgiving, but I couldn’t help feeling relieved. I couldn’t help it.

But just as things were looking up…

I woke up in the wee hours of Friday morning to a baby with a fever. A very high fever.

It was circa 1 a.m. when my baby woke up for his midnight feed.

As I was kissing his head, it felt hot to the touch.

I felt his armpits. Then, I touched his toes. They were, likewise, hot to the touch.

After feeding him, I thought of what I was supposed to do. Being alone, the first thing that I must do is to NOT PANIC. I couldn’t panic no matter how scared I was of the situation. And to achieve that, I had to refrain from crying.

And man, that was hard.

I don’t know why but I don’t keep medicine in the house. Not mine and not the baby’s. In other words, I don’t really like to self-prescribe and generally believe more in natural remedies. So, after taking my baby’s temperature, I started sponging him and feeding him as much and as long as he wanted.

He wasn’t vomiting and he wasn’t fretting, but I kept sponging him anyway. Then, after about an hour, his temperature didn’t drop and I knew that I had to do something about it. Fast.

So, I bundled him up, strapped him to his carseat, and started driving around Putrajaya, looking for the illusive, non-existent 24-hour clinic. I already knew it didn’t exist (because I looked it up beforehand) and that the closest was in Bangi, so I had no choice but to get whatever medicine I could from 7-Eleven.

Luck was on our side and we secured the last bottle of Panadol Suspension on the shelves.

I immediately fed him the medicine in the car (yes, already brought the syringe with me) and drove back home slowly. On one occasion, I glanced at him and it hit me. Oh my God, could this be among the “whatever it takes?”

“Please, please, please Allah. Not him. Not him”, I prayed. “Not his health, not his well-being, not, nauzubillah his life. Please?”

He’s recovering now, Alhamdulillah. And smart as ever.

Yesterday, I was so overcome with emotion; I began crying after my husband left.

And guess what my lil’ angel did? He caught each and every one of my tears with his tiny little fingers. And here I thought I was the bigger person.

Please Ya Allah, I don’t know if I can take it back, but please.

Not when "whatever" is him.

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