My Noggin Experience

Swallowed two Panadol tablets two nights ago. Tonight, sleep eludes me even though my eyelids are becoming heavier with each passing tab on this keyboard.

After downing those aspirins, I quickly dozed off to slumberland, accompanied by baby Sadia (or should I say toddler Sadia). Burning the midnight oil, hubby was busy finishing up 'school work' which he needed to submit by next week.

It's past midnight now and the pain I felt the previous night has lessened somewhat. Yesterday, after lathering my hair with shampoo, I felt a throbbing sensation on certain parts of my noggin. To be exact, the upper left side of my head.

On Wednesday morning, I was unloading the dishes from the dishwasher machine (it comes with this furnished Uni apartment - makes life much easier!) when, lo and behold, my head struck the cupboard's door directly above me. I had opened the door as wont to put the dishes in. Ouch! What agonizing pain!

I was still recovering from that blow in the morning when another unfortunate accident literally knocked upon my noddle. In my chase of Sadia under the dining table, I miscalculated the height of the table and tried coming up prematurely from underneath. Double wham-my!

The morning after these hapless incidents I had totally forgot about the physical distress if it were not for my rigorous shampooing. As a result, the upper left side of my head felt sore and bruised. Afterwards, the spasm rippled to its neighboring spots, thus rendering me a full-blown headache. I transformed into a grouchy, sulky person.

Thanks to those lifesaving Panadols, my comportment has reverted to a state of normalcy, although some tenderness still lingers. Try as I might not to whinge my way out of this mishap, I can't help but recall another accident that befell me almost 10 years ago.

Back then, relatively fresh out of college, I was still staying in a small room together with my other two sisters - my twin and my younger sister. In Shah Alam, I occupied the top bunk of a bunkbed, with my twin at the bottom whilst the other slept on a single bed.

The bunkbed faces a series of open shelves and cupboards which store our teenage's treasure troves and the occasional new novels us three had the luxury of purchasing. The cupboards start from the eye level up to the ceiling whereas the open shelves, at foot and knee level, cover the length of one side of the room.

One fateful night, I was standing up on the topbunk to get a personal memento that I'd hidden on the topmost cupboard. Living within the confines of a crammed and overstocked room, you do need to find those nooks and crannies to stow away personal items like love letters and whatnots.

I had, on other occasions, stood on top of my hovering bedpost to retrieve knickknacks from that same cupboard and was careful not to come into contact with the overhead ceiling fan that rotated ever menacingly.

However that night, I didn't know what came over me that in my haste to find what seemed to be so important I took a few steps back - possibly to get a better view of the cupboard's content.

As soon as I backed away, one of the fan's blades hit my head with a loud thud. Kerplunk!!!

In an instant, I turned to the 'safe' side of the bed but it was too late. Blood was already spurting from the very spot that got sliced by the blasted fan. And the pain - God only knows!

My parents and siblings all came to the rescue and we rushed to SJMC's (Subang Jaya Medical Centre) A&E. In the car, while I was crying my heart out, my twin (or was it my mom?) pressed a 'kain batik' to the wound to aid in stopping the blood flow. By the time we arrived at the hospital, the cloth was already doused in crimson red, from all the oozing blood.

I already imagined the worst - that the blade cleaved into my brain matter, causing irreparable damage. And yes, it did occur to me that, you know, THAT was it. With my mom's timely imploring, I had uttered the Syahadah and recited a few Surahs.

At the A&E, the doctor on duty quickly inspected my injury and thereafter informed me that the fan thankfully only hit my thick skull. The malevolent contact with the plastic blade was too brief for it to leave a deeper mark. In fact, I remember the doctor saying that it's just a superficial wound. JUST?!!! Try being in my shoes, doc! (On hindsight, it's probably a medical term that my case wasn't that life-threatening and I was fortunate - Alhamdulillah!)

He later explained that a nurse would come shortly to dress and stitch my wound. Since the A&E was packed with cases that very night, the nurse took a while to attend to me. As I waited on my hospital bed, in the throes of head trauma, I moaned and groaned loudly like a little girl that my mom berated me for causing a scene in the A&E. Trust my mother to keep my behavior in check even while I was lying in the emergency ward.

I couldn't recall exactly how many stitches were needed for my head affliction. It numbered between 5 to 7 but less than 10. The doc issued me a two-week of convalescence leave (much to the chagrin of my cold ex-boss but that's another sadistic story). I had to come back in a week's time for him to examine the healing wound and stitches.

The stitches naturally sloughed off from my noggin within that two weeks but alas, this particular freak episode has transmogrified me to a fan phobic-neurotic. Don't ask me to stand so near to the fan - ceiling or standee - or I might jump out of my skin!