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Apa hubungannya mobil dan warna baju?
Gak ada?
Jawabnya: banyak! Dan fatal!

Waktu kami baru saja pulang dari Jepang, adik saya yang bungsu membujuk untuk mengecat ulang mobil kami yang sudah berumur. Aslinya, mobil itu berwarna hijau gelap metalik. Warna cat yang khas untuk mobil merk itu. Setelah beberapa tahun, warnanya berubah jadi gelap tanpa metalik. Hijau pun tidak. Tadinya saya agak ragu. Selain biayanya yang mahal, saya terlanjur cinta mobil itu apa adanya. Diluar dugaan, Papap sebagai penyandang dana malah setuju. Ya sudah. Saya akhirnya setuju mengirim Papap dan si adik ke bengkel cat mobil.

Sebulan kemudian, terbukti tindakan saya mengirim Papap dan adik ke bengkel dengan berdua saja tanpa pendamping ternyata adalah suatu kesalahan besar! Selera mereka berdua ternyata tidak bisa dipercaya!
Mobil itu berubah warna menjadi hijau MUDA metalik!
Bagus sih... tapi... HIJAU MUDA METALIK?!

Ibarat barang produksi pabrik, mobil itu langsung jadi barang reject satu keluarga. Kecuali adik saya dan Papap tentu saja. Tapi, setelah saya dan Papap pindah ke rumah sendiri, mau gak mau saya harus pakai mobil itu kemana-mana karena gak ada lagi mobil Mami yang bisa saya bajak.
Mengendarai mobil bercat ngejreng bagi orang berumur seperti saya ternyata berakibat fatal. Makanya, sekarang saya mau menasihati para hadirin sekalian supaya tidak menyontoh tindakan tersebut diatas, karena...

1. Cat mobil yang ngejreng membatasi kreatifitas kita dalam memilih warna baju. Suatu kali saya pernah ke sebuah pertemuan kantor yang sangat penting dengan memakai blus marun yang agak mengilat. Begitu saya keluar dari mobil hijau metalik dalam balutan blus marun mengilat, seluruh peserta pertemuan langsung melotot. Hancur lebur imej kalem-lembut-dewasa yang sudah susah payah saya ciptakan selama 10 tahun!

2. Cat mobil yang ngejreng berbahaya untuk keselamatan berkendara. Saking gampangnya mobil itu diciriin, mobil saya jadi semacam 'target of achievement' bagi pengendara lain. Mereka berlomba-lomba mematok target untuk melampaui kecepatan mobil saya.

3. Cat mobil yang ngejreng berbahaya untuk upaya menghilang-dari-kantor. Murid, kolega, teman, sampai bos menjadikan mobil saya sebagai patokan apakah saya sudah sampai kantor/belum.

4. Cat mobil yang ngejreng menjadi petanda keberadaan (asumsinya) saya. Suatu kali saya tidak dapat datang ke undangan seorang teman karena sakit sementara mobil saya dipakai adik main ke mall. Tak dinyana, ada teman yang melihat keberadaan mobil hijau metalik itu di mall. Kisah selanjutnya bisa ditebak!
Lalu, sewaktu Hikari sedang dirawat di rumah sakit, bos beserta teman-teman saya berniat menjenguk. Dari seberang jalan, mereka melihat mobil saya parkir di pelataran rumah sakit. Dengan pedenya mereka percaya saya ada di dalam rumah sakit, tanpa berusaha menelpon. Padahal saya sengaja menaruh mobil di situ dan pulang naik taksi saking kecapeannya.

5. Cat mobil yang ngejreng membuat orang mengira pribadi saya juga secerah ceria warna mobilnya.

6. Cat mobil yang ngejreng membuat orang mengira umur saya juga semuda warna mobilnya.

7. Cat mobil yang ngejreng membuat orang-orang itu mengira mereka tahu tempat-tempat nongkrong saya. Asumsi ini berbahaya mengingat mobil saya sering dipinjam adik saya yang doyan maen ke mall tiap wiken.

Kami terpaksa harus menutupi tawa cekikikan kami dari pandangan seorang laki-laki perlente berusia 25-30an tahun. Laki-laki itu sedang bersitegang dengan seorang petugas parkir di sebuah mall ngetop. Rupanya, si laki-laki itu tidak terima dengan pemberitahuan petugas parkir yang melarangnya parkir di spot tertentu yang bisa membahayakan pengemudi lain.

Yang membuat tawa kami meledak bukan karena melihat kenyataan kemunculan orang-orang gendeng yang rasanya semakin banyak akhir-akhir ini. Tawa kami meledak karena kalimat pamungkas laki-laki dewasa berpenampilan perlente seperti dia adalah:
"Kamu tahu Bapak saya siapa?!"

Laki-laki itu pun jadi bahan celaan kami selama beberapa menit kemudian.

Ada hal yang berbeda dari diri saya sejak beberapa bulan yang lalu.
Saya tak lagi terobsesi mencukur rambut pendek-pendek.
Ini tidak ada hubungannya dengan perubahan hormon.
Ini ada hubungannya dengan tugas baru saya di kantor.

Sudah hampir 3 bulan, saya mendapat tugas baru: mengurusi kelas anak-anak.
Teman-teman langsung menyelamati saya.
Bukan karena tugas baru ini sangat prestigious, tapi karena otomatis mereka terbebas dari tugas paling mengerikan di kantor ini. Jadi, mereka menyelamati saya, karena saya sudah menyelamatkan mereka. Sompret!

Program kelas anak memang dianggap mengerikan oleh para kolega saya. Apalagi oleh para guru-guru. Karena itu, setiap kali guru-guru melihat muka saya -si koordinator anak yang baru- mereka langsung balik kanan bubar jalan menyelamatkan diri dari assignment dipaksa ngajar.

Yang membuat kelas anak mengerikan bukan karena sosok anaknya.
Well, ya, itu juga sih.
Untuk ngajar anak umur 6-12 itu butuh steroid 5x lebih banyak dari pelari marathon kelas dunia.
Selain itu, lesson plan, alat peraga, kesabaran ekstra, stamina tinggi (untuk ngejar-ngejar mereka), obat batuk (untuk menyembuhkan tenggorokan serak), kemampuan P3K, banyak berdoa adalah beberapa hal yang dibutuhkan untuk mengajar anak-anak.
Begitu pun bukan soal itu yang membuat program ini dianggap paling mengerikan.
Satu dan hanya satu hal yang menjadi momok program ini adalah ada siapa di belakang anak-anak yang kami ajar.
Jawabannya: ada mamanya, ada papanya, ada neneknya, ada kakeknya, ada tantenya, ada mbaknya, ada supirnya, ada teman mamanya, dan ada mama tetangganya.
Urusan sepele kecil yang berhubungan dengan satu siswa, bisa merembet panjang karena satu kompi pasukan di belakang anak itu.

Ribut-ribut dari hal yang remeh, seperti:
"Ibu, kenapa si A gak diusir dari kelas? Dia suka nyubitin anak saya!"
"Pak, kenapa sih surat untuk ortu dikasih ke anak saya? Kenapa saya gak di telepon aja?!"
"Bu, anak saya harus makan siang dulu sebelum masuk kelas disini. Jadi dia pasti akan terlambat masuk. Saya gak mau anak saya ditulis terlambat, ya!"
Sampai ke hal-hal yang... *&!@%#$*!^#, seperti:
"Saya gak terima anak saya harus ikut ujian susulan! Kesalahan dia kan hanya gak bayaran aja!"
"Saya bisa pecat situ, tau! Saya gak terima anak saya hanya dimasukin ke level ini!"
"Saya bisa beli gedung ini beserta isinya, tau!"
"Saya minta guru itu dipecat! Saya tidak suka sama muka dia!"

Saya memang patut untuk diselamati.

Saya lalu berencana untuk memanjangkan rambut supaya saya kelihatan lebih tua. Saya juga akhirnya mengikhlaskan diri memakai kacamata yang sudah beberapa tahun saya simpan di laci rumah demi kelihatan lebih dewasa. Dan Tua. Dewasa dan Tua.
Para guru memang meledek saya. Kata mereka, wajah dan penampilan saya kurang ibu-ibu untuk ngurusin para ibu dan bapak. Akibatnya, para ibu dan bapak ini seringkali melecehkan saya karena saya dianggap anak ingusan. Itu masih mending karena kadang saya juga dianggap resepsionis sehingga mereka selalu minta ketemu otoritas lain selain saya yang cuma resepsionis! Memangnya rambut pendek, muka imut-imut (*pletak!*), celana panjang dan sepatu boots tidak pantas punya pekerjaan seperti saya?
Kadang-kadang, saking mereka gak percayanya dengan jabatan saya, mereka sibuk bergerilya mencari kolega saya yang lain untuk minta dilayani. Para kolega saya pun dengan senang hati mengirim mereka kembali ke saya. Sompret!

Saya tidak mengerti ada apa sih dengan para orang tua sekarang ini? Seringkali mereka justru lebih galak mempertahankan diri ketika tahu anaknya berbuat kesalahan.
Mudah-mudahan solusi menuakan diri saya bisa berhasil.
Karena kalau enggak...

Having been dealing with hospital(s) for too many times surely has made me an expert. Thinking about it again, I might be able to write a book about it. How does "Surviving Patient" sound to you? Or "Being Hospitalized and Actually Love It"?


Having been hospitalized for so many times (and trying to be proud about it), I know the hospital drill so well that I start to think about applying for the job at the hospital.
Here are some tips to survive the hospital drill:
1. Speak up, if your infus injection feels more hurt than the bite of a black ant. Trust me, if the nurse injects it right, you wouldn't suffer. If you don't speak up, you'll risk your hand! If it hurts like hell, then it means they have messed up with your hand.


2. If you are not lucky enough to reside in VIP room, make sure you ask for the bed next to the window. You may have to share the room with other patients, but you can have the view all for yourself.
If it is possible, ask for the room in which the patients are all the same age as yours. Why? The reason is not only about the Generation Gap. Research (mine) shows that older patients (like above 50) receive more visitors than the doctor prescribes. You wouldn't feel happy to be alone in the hospital while your neighbors have a bunch of visitors every 5 minutes. You wouldn't be able to sleep either.


3. Related to no#3, if possible bring a big sign written DO NOT DISTURB and attach it to your bed. Hopefully you can get rid of unwanted eyes coming from your neighbor's visitors. Only God knows why they are so curious about other people in other beds.

4. If you are not into 'sharing', put a label on your bath equipment (soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, etc.). That way other tenant would understand that those items are not provided by the hospital and so are not for public use. My last experience cost me a bottle of soap.

5. Hospital food is never made to satisfy individual's taste. If you don't like it, keep quiet. There will be no use of prostesting the taste of the food. My neighbor did it. The next day she had to have her breakfast at 11 AM.

6. If you have to allow the nurse to bath you in bed, always tell the nurse that you take a bath sometime after 7 o'clock. Having a bath at 5:30 in the morning while being sick is against Human Rights!

7. Take a note on the drugs given to you and the frequency the drugs have to be given to you. Yes, the nurses are supposedly professionals, but they are also human. Papap had to endure his headache longer than necessary because the nurses forgot and skipped one serving.

8. Turn your cellphone to Silent Mode. I had nightmares because my neighbor's phone always rang at 1 AM. The ring tone was the sound of a laughing baby. There is nothing cute about the laugh of a baby if you hear it in the middle of the night.

9. Bring earplug. It always comes in handy. Especially during Visitors Time, and you have no one visiting you.

10. If in any case, you need to undergo a surgery, remember this:
a. Long before the surgery, ask the doctor about your surgery clothing. Do you need to take the whole clothes off? Or not. If you have to have your tooth removed, you don't need to undress. Believe me. And do not assume. If you assume, they'll take all your clothes off.
b. IF there's no way to keep your clothes on (even part of them), tell the nurses you don't want them to leave you cold naked on a cold surgery bed more than 30 seconds. Tell them to remove your clothes, or blanket, or whatever, only seconds before the surgeon says "Let's roll on".
c. If possible, ask for nurses with the same gender as yours. It doesn't hurt to ask. It hurts if you don't.
d. Do not look at the nurses' face, either female, or -especially- male. Do Not try to memorize their faces. You don't want to bump into them again one day and be reminded that they have seen you without clothes.
e. If you don't feel like chitchatting during the surgery, ask them to make you sleep for the whole process. But, if you feel perky about being operated, then you can stay awake and enjoy the ride.

All and all, I must say I wish you never have to apply any of those above.

Oh, one more thing: if you are told to use a catheter, vote against it! Trust me on this!

By this time, I should have been awarded with Customer of The Year Award!

Early May, I dragged myself to visit my love-and-hate-kind of place: Unit Gawat Darurat, only to find out that my suspicion was correct.
Again, for the fourth, fifth, sixth? time, I suffered from a typhoid fever.
The doctor told me to rest at the hospital, but I refused.
Oh, no, I knew the drill. I could do it myself at home.
Bedrest, porridge for a whole month, no spicy food, no sambal.
The doctor let me go with a note to come and visit him again in three days.
On the third day, I didn't return to him.

I did return to his colleague -the internist- on the fifth day with something new: a sharp pain below my right stomach.
This doctor had me X-ray-ed, blood tested, and a few other silly tests like bending my legs and doing some kind of ball-kicking.
Then, he told me what he had in mind. "I think you have an appendicitis."
You think?

He gave some drugs and sent me home. Of course, with another note: return to him in 5 days if I don't get any better.
I didn't return to him on the fifth day like he told me to.
And it wasn't because I felt better.

The fourth day I suffered from appendicitis, Hikari got sick. The next day he had high fever, was throwing up, and complained about the pain in his stomach. So, I got him to the hospital.
It was like a joke when his doctor told me, "Not a dengue. Definitely a typhoid fever."
Aaaaarrrggghhh....
Hikari was sent home with a bag full of drugs, and a wallet full of bills.
Why not hospitalized? Because Papap and I knew the drill.
We thought so.

Fortunately -at that time, we thought- Hikari was getting better soon. His fever was down and he was cheerful all over again. So, the third day after I saw Hikari was really getting better, I decided I wasn't getting better.

I returned to the UGD.
This time, the doctor didn't let me go home.
On the same day, I had to have a surgery to remove my appendix.

The surgery was a success. I stayed at the hospital for 3 days. I was home by Monday evening. Everything seemed to be normal again. Or so we thought. Sigh...

On Thursday, Hikari's condition suddenly became worse. He suffered from a high fever and complained that he felt so cold!
We had to bring him to the ER of Children hospital at 3 o'clock in the morning because he was shaking, feeling cold, and talking in his fever.
At the ER, we met a young and just-graduated-yesterday-kind of General Practitioner. The young doctor gave a medicine for Hikari's fever only and insisted us to return later, not to him, but to Hikari's personal pediatrician.
What's the use of taking Hikari to the ER then?!
But, we complied. 4 hours after the ER, we took Hikari to his pediatrician.
Despite his fever and trembling body, Hikari was sent home with another bottle of medicine.

12 hours later, Hikari wasn't getting better at all. His fever reached 39C, then 40.3C.
We had been to the ER, we had been to his pediatrician.
I was praying, crying, praying and crying. I even forgot about the wet scar on my stomach.
At 8 PM, we took Hikari to another ER. A different ER, with different doctors. My initial UGD.
Fortunately, these different doctors reacted well.
Hikari was soon got his first aid.
Between my crying and praying, I explained in details what happened with Hikari.
Oh, I swore too, for those doctors in the first hospital!

5 days after that, Hikari was sent home with better condition.
It turned out that he had problems in his lungs. The problems use those names I can't even pronounce and spell correctly.
But, Thank God, he's been better since.

So, there we were, Hikari and I, two days at home, feeling week and exhausted.
I was about to feel relieved when...
when, on the third day Hikari was home, Papap went home from work with a high fever.
The next day Papap was brought to the UGD, my and Hikari's UGD. And he has been hospitalized since then. Until now.

And, everytime I turn around at the hospital, there is somebody saying, "Eh, Ibu. Kok masih di rumah sakit?"