My Journey : An Extra Chapter

I dashed into the empty room, mind fogged by frustration, eyes blurred by the gush of tears that had shown no signs of coming to a cease any time soon. I sat down on the floor next to a table, hidden from plain sight. The darkness of the room helped in keeping my tears unnoticeable. I allowed myself some alone time, pouring out all the distress. No point of acting strong any longer, was what I thought.

*****

“Come on, brain, work with me. Think!” I hissed to myself.

Behind the screen was a patient waiting to continue the treatment. I closed my eyes, hoping to get a subtle vision of something. Anything. I had been studying 4 years. Surely there should be something that I would be able to figure out. There should… shouldn’t it?

“How do I find out her problem? What else do I check? What else do I ask?”

My brain is not cooperating with me. Frustration started to build up deep within. I looked over to the right. And left. And back at right. Still, no clue. I sighed hard. Just how do I handle this situation? I stared into the notes that I had scribbled.

“JUST WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?!!!” I screamed internally, cursing myself for being such an underperforming student.

Owning my own centre? Yeah, right. I couldn’t even pass the university examination. Everybody else excelled single-handedly.

“Just what is wrong with me?”

“I wasn’t like this before.”

“I was good with my skills. I was good with my communication. I remembered a lot. Not the best student in class, but surely one of the good ones.”

“Just when did everything crumble?”

“Why?”

The sound of the patient coughing pulled me out of my thoughts. I had a patient to attend, and I reminded myself just that. I had no time for those useless thoughts.

“Now brain, time to think of something good,” I think hard.

Nothing. I gave up. Just a few minutes before that, the moment the patient had raised her voice when I had just asked her name, my mind went blank and I flustered internally. All the studying I did the night before had disappeared into thin air. All the planning I had in mind before I see her shattered to pieces.

“Let’s just face the patient. Be brave. It’ll become easier naturally,” I told myself.

My legs felt heavier with each step I took. I didn’t want to be there. I held the screen, hesitating. I stepped in nevertheless. Little did I know a big blow was waiting inside.

“Sorry ma’am, we need to do a little bit of test. This is to find out if there is any restriction on the movement. Firstly, please bend forward. Can you reach your toes?” I asked.

I put on a smile so that the patient did not feel pressured. But I kind of saw the patient glaring at me before standing to try to reach her toes, which she couldn’t do. I could have seen it wrong though – on the glaring part – so I put the thought off. I needed to stay focused.

“What about bending backwards? How far could you go?” I carried on. The patient stood up. While grunting, she bent just ever so slightly backwards.

Being in the physiotherapist role, I have to ask the most repeated question in my field, “Is this the farthest that you can go?”

“Hmm,” was the patient’s half-hearted and harsh reply.

I sensed that the patient did not want to be treated by a student. I dismissed that thought. The atmosphere turned so tense.

“Let’s not read too much into the situation. Assumptions aside,” I told myself mentally.

“What about turning sideways?” I asked with the most attentive tone while demonstrating the movement.

“IT’S JUST THE SAME. IT IS PAINFUL,” the patient protested, raising her voice again. Sitting on the test table, her expression is the definition of being pissed off.

“Don’t worry, girl. This is will be over so quickly. Hold on just a little bit more,” I had to chant to myself, hoping to get fooled by my own thoughts.

“It’s okay then. Lastly, we will try to find out if your back pain had affected your nerve. Now, while sitting, please straighten your knee. Tell me if you feel any numbness or tingling,” I instructed. Though so slowly, as if she did not want to, she followed.

“Now try reaching your toes,” I continued. The patient snapped.

“I HAD BEEN DOING TREATMENTS HERE FOR THREE YEARS, THE THERAPIST HAD NEVER ASKED ME TO DO THESE KINDS OF RIDICULOUS THINGS!!!” she screamed.

“But ma’am, these movements are to check for…”

“EASY FOR YOU TO SAY SINCE I AM THE ONE IN PAIN!” her voice rose up another octave and I lost my chance to defend myself.

The supervising physiotherapist rushed in.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I assessed the range of motion of the spine and perform slump test on the patient,” I answered calmly, cutting off the patient who was about to complain of something to my supervisor.

“The moves she asked me to do were all nonsense,” she chided.

“If only I knew that a student will be attending to me,” she said. “I would not have come.”

Her glare met my eyes. I felt a sharp sting in my chest. I hated that. I had to consciously control my mind, refraining from clenching fists. Or any gestures that would make the situation even worse. I did not know how it looked like but I tried so hard to maintain my smile. And not to frown.

“Show me how you did the palpation,” the therapist said, sternly.

I showed her what I did. Trying to find any abnormal structure, I moved my hand slowly but firmly along the patient’s back. But my hand was as numb as my feeling. And my mind. I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t think of anything.

“I found nothing abnormal,” I reported.

“Are you sure?” the therapist asked, folding up her sleeves. She touched the patient’s back just the way I did and looked back at me.

“Is this normal?” she asked, gesturing for me to inspect the area she was inspecting.

I did as I was told. I shook my head as a response. Through my fingers, I felt a bump on the patient’s back. In my head, I felt stupid. I did not know how did I miss something so obvious.

“Get me some massage oil”, the therapist instructed.

I gladly followed. Being able to escape the suffocating air was so relieving. I grabbed a bottle of lavender massage oil and dashed back towards the test table. My chest suddenly felt so tight, breathing in felt so heavy.

“I hate this,” I thought.

I hated everything. The patient, the condition, the supervisor, the fact that I had to repeat the subject when my fellow classmates were already looking for jobs, the fact that I had studied that exact condition the night before but couldn’t recall anything, I hated my mind, and most importantly, I hated MYSELF.

With all the feeling mixed up, I stepped behind the screen. The patient was smiling at the therapist as if nothing happened. I felt deceived. To me, it looked as if she purposely made it hard for me. I felt myself fuming but I had to hold it in. Chest stifled with rage, everything in my sight suddenly became indistinct. The tears pooling in my two eyes were threatening to spill out. The therapist signalled me to go out. I turned away. Without any warning, I felt something warm running down my cheeks. I couldn’t take it anymore. I dashed out of the gymnasium.

*****

After bawling all the misery out, my sobs toned down, but I still felt burdened by something I couldn’t put my finger on. I took out my phone, intending to play some music to put my mind at ease. A message came in. It was my mother.

“How are my children today? I wish all my children peaceful minds and blessed lives under His protection. May all of you become valuable members of the society who will contribute back to the Ummah”

Attached was a picture. Of my mother in her pure white praying veil. A shudder of sorrow came surging back in. Once again, I curled down, rested my arms on my knees and buried my face in between. I disappointed my mother. The guilt I was feeling made it hard for me to hold back the tears that were already coming to an end before. I let the weak side of myself show again.

“I shouldn’t stay like this,” I told myself after a few more minutes of weeping.

I stood up and excused myself to a prayer room nearby the gymnasium. The moment I stepped into the prayer room, I was already feeling lighter. I took off my headscarf, folded up the sleeves of my uniform and took ablution. With each touch from the drops of water on my skin, my mind felt more and more at peace. I proceeded to perform Dhuha prayer. I poured all my problems on the prayer mat. For the third time on that morning, I cried. I really did study. I really did prepare. But I couldn’t remember it when I need to. I told Him all that. I did my part in studying. All I needed to do was to ask for His mercy. He was the only one I could depend on.

Being left behind while watching others move forwards was really a big blow on my self-esteem. But that was my journey. In my journey, there was an extra chapter. I didn’t know what was waiting for me in the future, but I convinced myself that the extra chapter was a way for me to be better at what I was good at. I had no one to depend on, but I was never alone. I needed to believe, and I did. Because that was MY journey.

“Never give up. There are always tough times, regardless of what you do in anything in life. Be able to push through those times and maintain your ultimate goal” - Nathan Chen (American figure skater, two-time World champion, 2018 Winter Olympic bronze medalist, 2017 Four Continents champion, two-time Grand Prix Final champion, three-time U.S. national champion)