My mom is an incredibly strong woman. She displayed her greatest strength when she had to nurture her physical, emotional, and mental well-being while caring for our late father. When our dad passed away exactly one week before Eid al-Fitr in 2015, we assumed this significant responsibility.
The annual requirement to submit a hospital attendance record has become a lighthearted aspect of our family's life. Despite the shifting dates of Ramadan, it always coincides with the holy month. Why do I prefer the term "funny" over "irony"? Because humor helps us cope with circumstances beyond our control.
When contemplating how to handle the reality of your mother's hospital visits, the question arises: Is it better to approach it with tears or a smile? The answer is evident: we prefer to face the challenge with a warm smile, embracing it with resilience and humor.
Over more than two decades, my mother has battled diabetes, requiring constant treatment to manage her persistently high blood sugar levels. Unexpectedly, she developed painful boils on her feet, with several cropping up around her waist. These abscesses were excruciating, prompting us to seek the expertise of an internal medicine specialist.
During this challenging period, some onlookers couldn't help but cast curious and sometimes annoyed glances toward her. Even as we moved my mother from the operating room to her ward, a few nurses curiously followed along. It's almost comical in hindsight; had they known it was merely boils, they could have spared themselves the trouble. In such times, we often find solace in amusement rather than despair.
What adds to the puzzle is how some individuals can manage their abscesses with simple ointments, while our mother had to endure a week-long hospital stay and undergo surgery.
Our confusion deepened when, during that Ramadan, our mother was conspicuously absent from the hospital – a departure from our yearly tradition of spending the holy month with her. However, as the Eid holiday came and went, it became clear that fate decided we would remain in the hospital even after Ramadan. In retrospect, I couldn't help but lament how I could have, at the very least, enjoyed a warm sahoor meal at home.
Since our father's passing in 2019, each year has posed increasingly complex challenges, yet it has also brought its share of rewards. So, what made this year particularly challenging? The answer lies in that, despite our visits to numerous hospitals, no one could explain our mother's condition satisfactorily.
In contrast to situations where humor offered solace, we found ourselves unable to employ it this time. The gravity of my mother's condition simply demanded a more somber response. Her cries of agony echoed relentlessly throughout the day and night, and despite the administration of various medications and injections, the doctor's efforts proved disappointingly ineffective.
Thankfully, after several hospital transfers, we finally had the opportunity to consult with a specialist who clarified our mother's condition. The doctor recommended a procedure to drain the pus that had accumulated in her upper left arm. Strangely, her arm showed no external signs of distress, and initial examinations revealed no concerning symptoms. However, it soon became apparent that the pus was the root cause of her excruciating pain. To compound our worries, the doctor expressed concerns about the possibility of cancer as a severe complication.
Fortunately, contrary to expectations, my mother's left arm regained some functionality, and the dire prognosis didn't come to pass. On a more positive note, let's briefly shift focus to some memorable events from 2019. One noteworthy achievement was my successful completion of an examination, which granted me eligibility as a candidate for a civil service position.
Fasting in the present year follows a familiar pattern, much like previous ones. As per tradition, my mother was admitted to the hospital during the initial two days of Ramadan. Nevertheless, this year brought a glimmer of positivity as we continued using the term "amusing." My mother grappled with a high fever, enduring nightly chills for over a week. The doctors could not pinpoint a definitive diagnosis despite exhaustive blood tests and internal organ examinations. Following nearly a week of treatment, the attending physician ultimately found no cause for concern and allowed her to be discharged from the hospital.
The annual requirement to submit a hospital attendance record has become a lighthearted aspect of our family's life. Despite the shifting dates of Ramadan, it always coincides with the holy month. Why do I prefer the term "funny" over "irony"? Because humor helps us cope with circumstances beyond our control.
When contemplating how to handle the reality of your mother's hospital visits, the question arises: Is it better to approach it with tears or a smile? The answer is evident: we prefer to face the challenge with a warm smile, embracing it with resilience and humor.
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During this challenging period, some onlookers couldn't help but cast curious and sometimes annoyed glances toward her. Even as we moved my mother from the operating room to her ward, a few nurses curiously followed along. It's almost comical in hindsight; had they known it was merely boils, they could have spared themselves the trouble. In such times, we often find solace in amusement rather than despair.
What adds to the puzzle is how some individuals can manage their abscesses with simple ointments, while our mother had to endure a week-long hospital stay and undergo surgery.
Our confusion deepened when, during that Ramadan, our mother was conspicuously absent from the hospital – a departure from our yearly tradition of spending the holy month with her. However, as the Eid holiday came and went, it became clear that fate decided we would remain in the hospital even after Ramadan. In retrospect, I couldn't help but lament how I could have, at the very least, enjoyed a warm sahoor meal at home.
Since our father's passing in 2019, each year has posed increasingly complex challenges, yet it has also brought its share of rewards. So, what made this year particularly challenging? The answer lies in that, despite our visits to numerous hospitals, no one could explain our mother's condition satisfactorily.
In contrast to situations where humor offered solace, we found ourselves unable to employ it this time. The gravity of my mother's condition simply demanded a more somber response. Her cries of agony echoed relentlessly throughout the day and night, and despite the administration of various medications and injections, the doctor's efforts proved disappointingly ineffective.
Thankfully, after several hospital transfers, we finally had the opportunity to consult with a specialist who clarified our mother's condition. The doctor recommended a procedure to drain the pus that had accumulated in her upper left arm. Strangely, her arm showed no external signs of distress, and initial examinations revealed no concerning symptoms. However, it soon became apparent that the pus was the root cause of her excruciating pain. To compound our worries, the doctor expressed concerns about the possibility of cancer as a severe complication.
Fortunately, contrary to expectations, my mother's left arm regained some functionality, and the dire prognosis didn't come to pass. On a more positive note, let's briefly shift focus to some memorable events from 2019. One noteworthy achievement was my successful completion of an examination, which granted me eligibility as a candidate for a civil service position.
Fasting in the present year follows a familiar pattern, much like previous ones. As per tradition, my mother was admitted to the hospital during the initial two days of Ramadan. Nevertheless, this year brought a glimmer of positivity as we continued using the term "amusing." My mother grappled with a high fever, enduring nightly chills for over a week. The doctors could not pinpoint a definitive diagnosis despite exhaustive blood tests and internal organ examinations. Following nearly a week of treatment, the attending physician ultimately found no cause for concern and allowed her to be discharged from the hospital.
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| My very first Phở |
So, we settled on Lekker as our destination, which was a fantastic choice. There, I finally had the opportunity to dive into a steaming bowl of Phở, a Vietnamese noodle soup that I had often seen featured in those mesmerizing ASMR Mukbang videos.
Honestly, I had my doubts initially. It might be similar to the noodle soup you can grab from those roadside stalls or food carts in our neighborhood. But, boy, was I in for a surprise! This Phở was on a whole different level. I can't stress enough how delicious it was, except for those pesky basil leaves, which, to be honest, just weren't my cup of tea. It's hard to describe because I've never had anything like it.
Whenever we asked Nande what she wanted to order, her typical response was the classic "I don't know" – the ultimate tradition, right? Eventually, she'd start tasting a little bit of each dish we ordered, like a food adventurer, before settling on which one she'd go all in on for the meal. In this case, she went with the fried rice my brother and his wife ordered.
There's a special kind of magic when we indulge in a delicious meal, precisely when our bodies need nourishment. It's like a form of therapy, where each bite satiates our physical hunger and feeds our soul. And what makes this experience even more meaningful is when we're sharing it with those we hold closest to our hearts.
Breaking bread together transcends the mere consumption of food; it becomes a shared moment of connection, a chance to unwind, and an opportunity to bond. The laughter, conversations, and camaraderie accompanying these meals create lasting memories.
Good food can uplift our spirits, bring comfort in times of need, and provide a sense of joy. It's a reminder that the simple act of savoring a well-prepared dish can be a therapeutic journey for our bodies and our relationships and well-being. So, let's cherish those moments when we come together to enjoy good food with the people who matter most.
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| Orange juice for the babies: Syifa and Bona |
What's even better? Our food arrived faster than you can say "hungry," and the service was top-notch from start to finish. Seriously, it's a total win-win!
We found ourselves in a delightful quandary, unable to pinpoint what made this place special. It's funny because, in our minds, every item on the menu seemed like a clear winner.
You see, we have this knack for being fashion critics. Judging whether someone has nailed their outfit, missed the mark, or if their color choices and clothing combinations are on point comes naturally to us. But have we ever stopped considering what wearing those clothes is really like? Can the person genuinely unwind in that ensemble? Is their skin getting some breathing room, or can they comfortably squat in that skirt? Maybe they're yearning to slip into cozy pajamas once they're back home. We will fully grasp how it feels to walk in those shoes ourselves. It's like the food here; we can make snap judgments based on appearances – is it appetizing or not? We can even discuss portion sizes, whether they should be more significant, smaller, or just right. But can any of that predict how that very first bite will taste? Sometimes, you just have to experience it to truly understand.
If you ever ask me how something tastes after I've taken a bite – especially if it's a dish that many people are familiar with – my response is usually pretty straightforward. I might say something like, "Oh, this is delicious," "This has a nice kick of spice," "This is a tad too salty," "It's not overly sweet," or even "It's not bad at all." I'm not trying to decipher some secret code or provide a detailed analysis. I simply hope that by sharing these simple impressions, others can better understand what the flavor is like when they eventually try it themselves. Ultimately, it's about savoring and appreciating the unique taste of the food.
But let's get back to the main point here. The money we invest in this place doesn't just satisfy our physical cravings; it also gives our spirits a significant lift. I apologize if my thoughts flow best when I'm in high spirits. So, for now, I'll bid you farewell with a smile!
You see, we have this knack for being fashion critics. Judging whether someone has nailed their outfit, missed the mark, or if their color choices and clothing combinations are on point comes naturally to us. But have we ever stopped considering what wearing those clothes is really like? Can the person genuinely unwind in that ensemble? Is their skin getting some breathing room, or can they comfortably squat in that skirt? Maybe they're yearning to slip into cozy pajamas once they're back home. We will fully grasp how it feels to walk in those shoes ourselves. It's like the food here; we can make snap judgments based on appearances – is it appetizing or not? We can even discuss portion sizes, whether they should be more significant, smaller, or just right. But can any of that predict how that very first bite will taste? Sometimes, you just have to experience it to truly understand.
If you ever ask me how something tastes after I've taken a bite – especially if it's a dish that many people are familiar with – my response is usually pretty straightforward. I might say something like, "Oh, this is delicious," "This has a nice kick of spice," "This is a tad too salty," "It's not overly sweet," or even "It's not bad at all." I'm not trying to decipher some secret code or provide a detailed analysis. I simply hope that by sharing these simple impressions, others can better understand what the flavor is like when they eventually try it themselves. Ultimately, it's about savoring and appreciating the unique taste of the food.
But let's get back to the main point here. The money we invest in this place doesn't just satisfy our physical cravings; it also gives our spirits a significant lift. I apologize if my thoughts flow best when I'm in high spirits. So, for now, I'll bid you farewell with a smile!
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