Star Commander Lee Ahau Ben Anoor-Antares in 2004 |
It was Bob
Dylan’s 73rd birthday. My artist-astrologer friend Melissa Lin had invited me
to dinner at Rimbun Dahan where she was on a 4-month residency. Met up with a
few dear friends and renewed my acquaintance with the hospitable Hijjas family.
Decided to continue to Bandar Utama where some young friends were hosting an
open mic session at Paradox Café. We had a jolly jam session; met up with two
old friends and made a few new ones. Got home around 3:30am and, as usual,
didn’t get to bed till around 6:00. Heard my Vandalusian songbird Ahau Ben
chirping merrily away. The sun wasn’t even up but my only begotten son was
already at his laptop, doing his YouTube routine. It was a cheerful sound to
fall asleep to.
Ahau asleep on 12 October 2012 |
Sunday, May
25th, 2014, around 11am: rudely awoken by Mary Maguire screaming at the top of
her lungs, I grabbed my sarong and rushed over next door to find Ahau on the
floor, having just puked on the mat. He looked wild-eyed and frightened and his
hands were like claws. Mary said she had popped in from the kitchen a minute
ago to find Ahau’s eyes unfocused and his fingers rigid. Thinking it might be
an epileptic fit (though he has no previous history of that) she put him into
recovery position on the floor so he wouldn’t swallow his tongue and suffocate.
As I
knelt down and immersed him in my energy field, Ahau vomited again and his body
went into spasms. While I whispered star language in his ears, Mary picked up
the phone and called 999, hands trembling. She managed to keep calm as the
police operator began interrogating her with absolutely no sense of urgency
instead of passing her call to the nearest ambulance service. Finally, she got
through to the KKB District Hospital and they said an ambulance would be
despatched. Bonzo Dog came running in and sniffed Ahau all over, nudging him
with his canine nose. He seemed as concerned as both Mary and me.
Anoora
just looked dazed. I got her to take my place beside Ahau and ran back to put
on some clothes. There’s nothing more nerve wracking than for a parent to
contemplate the possibility of losing a child. True, I view life and death
differently than most people and have never been inclined to wallow in grief
and misery - always opting for the most inclusive, most all-embracing, and the
most uplifting perspective.
Jolly joy boy Ahau Ben |
Indeed,
when Ahau was only 7 a psychic friend had warned me that Ahau may not survive
long past puberty; that he had come on a specific mission and when he was done
he would simply leave. I deeply resented hearing that but nonetheless took on
it board.
In
December 2010 when my beloved canine son Roger Reginald Putra was brutally
murdered by a demonically possessed Orang Asli, probably for chasing after his
motorbike, I was utterly grief-stricken. Imagine how much worse it would be to
lose a human offspring.
Seeing
Ahau in that scary state, not knowing the cause or outcome, I was prepared for
any eventuality - but decided unequivocally that I would opt for our darling
son to stick around, no matter what difficulties may arise around his
“disabilities” and his almost complete dependency on others. It was a pivotal
moment that brought into clear focus the totality and unconditionality of my
love for that very special boy.
The
ambulance arrived and we had to carry the unconscious Ahau down two flight of
steps in his duvet because they had no stretchers with body straps. It’s a
12-minute drive to the KKB District Hospital but that ambulance was so horribly
bumpy I was compelled to mention it to the attendant who said the problem was that
the Health Ministry bought goods vans and converted them - instead of ordering
customized ambulances with high-grade suspensions. “We are the ones who use
these vehicles every day but nobody bothered to ask our opinion,” he confided.
Mary and
Anoora arrived at the Emergency Room shortly afterwards while Ahau was being
stabilized by the hospital assistants. Knowing the situation was no longer in
our hands, I calmed down and held the beam for those attending to Ahau who
appeared on the verge of another fit. They sedated him but his body resisted it
and they increased the dosage. Finally the doctor had to switch to ketamine to
knock him out so they could intubate him.
I kept
popping into the emergency room to see if they had finished but the procedure
took a long time. Dr Sashi explained that he had problems inserting the tube
down Ahau’s throat. “I’ve never seen anyone with vocal cords like his,” the
young doctor said. “One in a million!”
No
wonder Ahau has had difficulty with human speech and opts to emit an incredible
range of birdlike or dolphinlike sounds when he isn’t speaking his own take on
human languages, Gobbledygook.
The KKB
District Hospital isn’t equipped to handle any but the most routine of medical
situations. Dr Sashi began phoning around to see which big hospital would admit
Ahau. Incredibly, every ICU bed in hospitals within 2 hours of KKB was
occupied, but Ahau was sent to Selayang Hospital anyway, in the hope that a bed
in the ICU would become available when he arrived.
Another
bumpy ambulance ride, though minimally better than the first, and we were at
the Selayang Hospital emergency and trauma ward, where the heavily sedated Ahau
was wheeled off for a CT scan. The doctors at Selayang were young and
reassuringly professional. They reported that the scan showed there was a
slight edema (swelling) and there were symptoms of viral infection. Three
doctors in particular had friendly, helpful auras – Drs Zetti, Haris and Amar.
It was the latter who accompanied Ahau and me in the ambulance along with a
nurse when Putrajaya Hospital agreed to take him. By the time we arrived at the
southernmost part of Selangor state it was close to 11pm.
After 48 hours in the Hospital Putrajaya ICU Ahau was transferred to Ward 4A |
Mary
arrived at Putrajaya Hospital with Anoora and our dear friend Soon within
minutes of Ahau being wheeled into emergency prior to being sent directly to
the ICU. As I was taking the first watch Anoora had packed a small knapsack for
me. Amazingly she had seen fit to include my Peruvian poncho and a book I had
just started reading. I must have cut a surreal figure at 3 in the morning walking
about the hospital grounds in my rainbow poncho. Dr Radha who was in charge of
the ICU that night had taken my phone number and assured me that no news was
good news as far as Ahau was concerned. I knew he was in excellent, dedicated
hands. Dr Radha herself had the sweetest face and an angelic aura. It was hard
to reconcile the cold-blooded colossal bureaucratic monstrosity called
Putrajaya with the warmth and humanity of everyone I had met at the hospital.
PART 2
PART 2