Hit and Nowhere To Run

Friday, 17th March 2006

I found myself in the A & E ward of Rashid Hospital, early this morning, very dumbfounded and a little derailed.

Having burnt the midnight oil at Rainy's place, the last installment of my meagre attempt at studying for today's paper, I woke up at precisely 6.58am so that I could drive home to get ready to sit for my tak-blajar-langsong paper and to drop Rainy off at Briefing for her long Bangkok/Sydney trip, since it was on the way.

Then Miza (another RedHatCampGurlie from Malaysia), who was also bunking in Rainy's apartment for a different reason, got a call from another RedHatCampGurlie's boyfriend. I won't name the other RedHatGurlie, for reasons understandable by the end of this post. Let's call her Sheila for the time being.

So Sheila's boyfriend called. Sheila got into an accident. She's in Rashid Hospital. Please come now.

Please.

I, in my ultimate numbness, totally detached-from-reality, somehow managed to muster up some sense to offer to send Miza to Rashid Hospital. It's in Bur Dubai, Oud Metha. It's near where I always go for my monthly manipedi so I won't get lost on the way.

Miza, in her crumpled state of freshly-roused slumber, accepted my offer and immediately hastened to her own apartment to grab her things so that she can go straight to the hospital.

Rainy, in her freshly-pressed uniform and immacualte make-up, immediately hustled us and her luggage out of the apartment so that minimal time is wasted (being the chong that she is).

All of us were still in the early stages of being, since it was still only 7.30am and half of last night's sleep still had its lulling remnants somewhere in our concious minds.

Reality only hit when I was driving along the road to Maktoum Bridge, with Rainy beside me and Miza behind me.

At first, we saw a massive traffic jam on the other side of the road. All the cars were totally stalled by policed road blocks from driving onwards and were slowly diverted, one by one, to a small filter road. Then, I saw a taxi, right smack in the middle of the road, with it's front left wheel gone, the front bumper crushed and the driver's airbag inflated but no one was inside the wreck and no signs of blood can be seen.

And then, at least fifty meters away, laced by powdered glass and surrounded by police and passersby, we saw it. Her maroon BMW Z3 convertible. Crashed and crushed into an unrecognizable gothic metal sculpture of pain. Miza confirmed it was Sheila's. All three of us were silenced. All three of us were shocked. All three of us were hit. Yet only by reality, fortunately.

But it was too real. Too hard. Too sudden. Too now. Why now? Why her?

We dropped Rainy off at Briefing and sped off to Rashid Hospital, hoping and praying for the best. Upon reaching there, we ran along countless white corridors and passed by many white coats before we found ourselves in the A & E and in her emergency ward. It was all I could do to take a quick glance and step out as quickly as I stepped in. I hardly knew her and I was already stumped, close to tears at the reality of the situation. Miza, on the other hand, is one of Sheila's best friends. I need not say more. One can imagine without having to ever feel.

Well, all I can say is Sheila's concious when I saw her, that quick cursory glance that I could barely afford. I had to leave after awhile to sit for my paper, which I was half-an-hour late for but I received a message from Miza a few minutes ago, simply stating Sheila's resting in a normal ward now. I'd check back later, perhaps pay her a visit. Perhaps bring her white lilies. Perhaps drive safely while I'm on my way there.

Yet,the thing that burned most in my mind the whole day today was Miza telling me, while I was driving my fat car at top speed to Rashid Hospital:-

"Dia ajak aku keluar pergi clubbing smalam, aku suddenly rasa macam tak nak. Entah apasal. Usually, we go clubbing together! But somehow, aku macam didn't feel like it yesterday."

And she chilled with Rainy instead, at Rainy's apartment the whole night last night till the phonecall this morning.

Was I in the presence of someone who was touched by divine intervention? Perhaps. Fate's funny but He is Great.








So one can now see why I dont' want to use Sheila's real name. Not now. I dont' know if her parents, family and friends back in Malaysia were informed yet and judging from how small the world is, anyone of them could be connected to Sheila (the world is really really teeny-tiny!). No way am I going to let my blog be the bearer of other people's bad news. The blogging world is already as disappointing and scary enough as it is.

Today, reality hit so many of us. In more ways than one.

To Sheila and her friends and family, I hope for the best in this that almost reached its worst.

To all, go clubbing with your head on your shoulders and not down the toilet bowl. Upchucking.

To me, go driving with seatbealt on and speed limit checked. Constantly.

To my Azim, come back home to me. Pronto.