My nose was nasal as usual of the drastic change of the weather. I crept to the bathroom to blow my nose because it was blocked, almost suffocating me. Turning on the tap, letting the water run, Huummkkk! The snots flew everywhere, it was gooey, viscous. Swilling away the mucus, I repeated this action for several times, an acute pain hit me, a warm liquid flowed in my hand, blood, putting me into the reminiscence of a miracle.

Nine months and a little more, I was transformed from an embryo into a baby, unknown to the world how would I look like, I was carried out by the doctors after they tore a hole in my mother’s stomach, blood was everywhere. The doctor delivered me, a new bornt soul, into this wondrous realm, trimmed off the umbilical cord, wrapped me in a blue towel, handed me to a nurse.

I was crying- it is ordinary for a new-bornt baby to cry, if not you are an unusual phenomenon, my mother was screaming, crying in tears of joy at the same time. The doctors were doing their best in sewing up the hole that they had to create just now. No collateral damage was done to both, but a blessing descended to my mother as she carried me in her cuddle after enduring those nine months of carrying me around and the treacherous delivering pain.

That period of time, my dad had switched jobs recently, my mum was working with the top music company at that point in time, BMG, and the company was hitting the pinnacle, loads of jobs were stacked up for her. Both of them were busy enough with work, they had to deal with a new-born who had no idea of the calamity that laid ahead.

November was the month I was bornt, it was cold in Malaysia and in most of the countries experiencing winter. Without the global warming back then, it was even colder compared to those cold nights now. Mucus started to built up when I was brought back home a few weeks after laying foot unto the world.

I could not do anything, I did not know how to react, I tried to blow out but I was too young, and I had minimal control over my physical movements and conscience. My parents discovered that I could not cry, I was heaving, wheezing heavily instead. I could not really breath, I turned greenish-blue, the face that we made during lacking of oxygen.

My parents rushed me to the hospital, to get me operated immediately, I was in oblivion of what was happening, I had to face needles as thick as my fingers, and suction tubes that were the size of my nostrils. Antibiotics, medicine, anything that they were doing was just an attempt to save me. Luckily my parents and the doctors exist. 

The first doctor did the mandatory, the old-style of treating patients, he jabbed a needle of fluid into me, and rammed the suction tube into my nose that went deep within me, turned on the machine, thick, green, unduly amount of mucus was being sucked.

We will try the best we could.” It was useless. After the mucus was being drawn out, a new layer of mucus was built within minutes. I was turning green again. “Send him to the general hospital.” My parents nodded, I was rushed to the general hospital.

Sleepless, grueling nights passed in the ICU as my parents had to sit through my suffocating groans, appalling nasal cries, and the noiseless moments that they thought my heartbeat had dimmed off.

I cried, scream in agony, covered in nasal voice until I was tired, and slept. I woke up because I could not breath, almost being suffocated to my death. The tubes were into me once my life was on the edge of a cliff. My parents stayed vigil, alarming the nurses when needed.

Days past, weeks even, the fireworks, the revel of the New Year, the crossing into the new millennium- the final seconds of 1999 bleeding into 2000, they had to abide with Providence, with my illness. People were having binges, celebrating their hearts out of the momentous moment in the calendar, people were getting married, getting their first kiss, getting their wishes fulfilled, and I was… we were suffering.

The fireworks kept me awake, I saw flashes of beautiful colours, hearing loud bangs, momentarily, the mucus kicked in again. “Yang…” My parents got of their seats nonchalantly, and came to my aid. The noise was odious, a cacophony of nasal, crying in agony, cheers of celebrations all around, and my parents sobbing quietly beside me.

I fell silent all of a sudden, choking in my mucus, drowning into the mire of death. My parents slammed the emergency button, a couple of minutes, no response, they broke out and called for help. My line of life was thinning, I had very little to hold on, I did not know anything, I was helpless, my parents were thrown into this pit of anguish torture unwillingly, unknowingly, by Providence.

Kami tak boleh simpan dia untuk selama-lamanya, dia sudah gone case, macam mana kita nak selamatkan dia?” The representative of the group of doctors treating me told my parents with veracity. Silence reverberated the room, dead silence. “Jika you tidak mahu melepaskan dia, ini nombor Dr. Lee dari SJMC, pergi tukar kepada private hospital, kat sini, dia sudah tidak boleh diselamatkan.”

Providence hit them hard, landing the coup de grace on us. “Esok kami tukar.” My mum agreed in assent, wanted me to be transferred to a private hospital- SJMC, tomorrow.

“This is certainly a goner, but I would try my best to save him.” Dr. Lee put it blandly to my parents, yet they were adamant, having the hopes to save me, of a miracle that would conjure. I did not know anything, I could not do anything, I was too young, all that I knew were to cry and sleep. The same ritual repeated itself.

Months passed, it was February, enduring the throes of me, my parents did not have a single thought of giving up on me, they believed in something that I did not know. They looked depressed, torn up from within, held together by something, an enigma to me.

My parents both were gone for a weekend, leaving me with the nurses only, they were responsible, keeping me alive. They came back with an arsenal of saviours, spiritual saviours. I had this encounter before, but this was different, it was only one person and it felt as if the prominence was promulgated in the ICU.

I started crying again as my breathing tracts were clogged again, turning greenish-blue. The person stood before me, laid her hands upon my nose. To the Lord, the father in heaven, please save this child from this agony, free him, there was a brief pause, I felt an ethereal presence swarming me, she resumed praying in tongues, Free this child from all the pain, now.

I blacked out. Yang, have hope, live on. commanded the voice from above.


“Hehehe! Hahaha!” The high pitched laughter jolted me from my repose. I leapt in joy. My boy was saved.

“This is a miracle.” claimed the doctor.

“Yes, he is a miracle baby.” From that day, the tables turned, we believe in Him, forever.

“YANG! Stop blowing your nose.” I told him the story that he was a miracle, miraculously crafted by Him.

P.S. 1999-2000
A miracle baby, me.

Hope Gone Viral

Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers! This is a real experience, details told to me by my mum. Hope this would impact your lives in a way or another.

Craving for more? Down below:
Amma
Shalom (Finale)
Resurrected
A Portrait of A World
Saved
Silent Hunter
Reminiscence And Something To Create

Hospitality

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