Brother was pronounced dead at 9:45am. Earlier on, a fat neuro surgeon came over to look at my brother. He was holding the same x-ray results as the first night, and told me the same thing that I already knew. I asked him on the course of action, and he said they can’t do anything for now as my brother’s condition was bad. Then he asked me, “how did your brother fall?” And I looked at him with a really pissed off face and said, “You mean you come in without reading your report? You don’t know the background at all and you wanna make decision on what should be done?!” and without answering my question, he turned to the nurse and mumbled annoyingly, “terlalu banyak orang di sinila!” referring to my parents, aunt and my brother’s girlfriend who were surrounding my brother’s bed. Then, he even asked the nurse, “dia construction worker ke?” I could just punch him then! Him and his fat so-hai face. Few minutes later, my mom then asked him about my brother and he scolded my mom. “There are too many of you here. I have already told someone just now!” and I looked at him and said “this is my mother you are speaking to!” my mom was so distress then she just couldn’t be bothered and turned back her attention to my brother. The surgeon then tried talking to my mother asking “aunty, what was it you wanted to know?” but my mom was just too tired and depressed to talk to him. As he was walking out, my friend overheard this stupid surgeon talking to the nurse, “I just want to show sympathy but I dunno what is going on la.”

Would you want this so-hai to operate on your brains?

The security guard guarding the ICU was no less better. Scolded my mom because she walked in, holding an unrestricted pass issued by the doctor. She scolded my mom because it was past visiting hours. Then I told her about the pass issued by the doctor and still, she insisted that it was past visiting hours. I remember shouting at her, “Apa you marah-marah? Kalau you mau cakap, cakap elok-elok sikit la! Saya punya mak sudah sakit hati. You tak boleh cakap elok sikit kah?” “Sekarang you masuk dalam tanya doctor! Doktor cakap lain. You cakap lain!” Then she went in and asked the doctor. She reappeared after a few minutes and allowed my mom to go in, this time, a little more polite, yet without even an apology.

Since my brother fell from a building, we had to make a police report. It appeared that there was a duplicate since the college already made a report at the police station in Genting, and I made another one at the Pondok Polis at HKL. We had to wait for the police officer from Genting to come down to take photographs and certify report.

It was around 10:15am when I spoke to the police in HKL, they gave me the name of the sergeant and told me to wait at the mortuary. They couldn’t confirm at what time the sergeant will arrive, so just wait. I waited for about 30 minutes, then left my phone number at the mortuary. I then called the police station in Genting, and they said the sergeant was in court and will come after that. They then gave me his mobile number and told me to contact him directly. I couldn’t get through his mobile, so all we could do… was again, wait. Made a few calls again without avail. So, I left a text message. We waited… till about 2:30pm. Still no news. The weather was humid, the hospital was crowded, we were tired, distress and with no where to go except to wait at the cafeteria. Mind you, but HKL’s cafeteria is no Starbucks.

I finally managed to get through the sergeant’s phone, and he told me that it wasn’t his district because he was from Temerloh branch. He didn’t even have the slightest courtesy to reply my text message! Gave me another number to contact. Then, I contacted another officer but he didn’t pick up his phone. By then, I was so frustrated I went back to the pondok polis and told the officers what happened. I practically begged them to be sympathetic because we had to rush back to hometown in Port Dickson and we had to conduct prayers by 7pm and my parents were tired and we had to leave before the after-office-hours traffic jam. They said, “Kita pun tak tau. Ni sebab… kita cuma terima instruction saja.” So they made a call to God knows where, spoke to God knows who, then told me, “You tunggu sini kejap. Kita tunggu panggilan.” I asked why they can’t do the post-mortem, and they said it was because it was not under their jurisdiction, so they can’t do it. I waited again inside the Pondok Polis for about 30 minutes. Then I asked them …. AGAIN! And they said, “Kita belum terima panggilan. Ataupun Cik, kita dial you cakap dengan polis di Genting.” Inside my head, I was thinking, “This is not my job!!!” I was soo frustrated and angry and sad that I just walked out of the pondok and slammed the door. Yes, I slammed the door. Then I stood outside, called my friend, and started crying hysterically, “how long more does my brother need to wait for these fuckers!”

The police officer then came out and said, “Cik, kita sudah call. Officer akan datang sekarang. Ni you cakap dengan officer di telefon ya…” A lady on the other end of the phone told me that the sergeant was on his way down from Temerloh. I then called the sergeant’s mobile and he told me he just left Temerloh, on the highway, and will take another 1 hour “kalau tak de jam.” I then sent him a message “Sarjan Harun, tolong cepat sikitla ya. Sebab kita sudah tunggu lama dari pagi. Tolongla ya sebab kita kena hantar arwah adik balik kampung kat PD. Jauh lagi. Kena sembahyang pukul 7.Tolongla ya sebab mak bapak pun dah penat.” I sent it 3 times to ensure he got it and to set off his guilt conscious.

I think the sergeant arrived at about 4:45p.m. We went over to the mortuary, and it only took him about 10 minutes to take photographs! Apparently, post-mortem is not required because my brother passed away at the hospital, not on-site. So he only needed to refer to the medical reports. We were then stuck in traffic jam on our way back. I kinda pity the sergeant. Drove all the way from Pahang when it could have been more efficient if the work was done by the officers in based in HKL, and then to send the pictures over to him via e-mail or something.

Could have saved us almost 7 hours worth of waiting time, sitting around in despair.

The story didn’t end there. When we had to identify the body to be transported back by undertaker, the mortician showed me a WRONG body!! I leaned my face over the body to take a closer look. When he opened the white cloth, I was taken aback when I stared face to face with a really really old man. I almost had a heart attack. I was so shocked that till today, I am still haunted by the image of that pale, wrinkled old man in my head.