My Appa: My Dad, My Strength and My Fighter
This is about one of the most important people in my life. He might not have been the kindest soul in the world but he has influenced so many aspects of my life. He is my motivator and has set a high standard for the kind of guy I want in my life. Not because ‘I want a guy who loves me like my dad’, but more because he has some qualities I never want my guy to have. My mother deserves an applause for putting up with him for the last 36 years and he might not have been the best husband but he is the best dad I could ask for. I choose to think my presence has made him a better person. Need I say more, I am the youngest in my family, even among my cousins. I had a way of using my brightest, innocent looking smile to get away from all the mistakes I made when I was young. My siblings hated me for that and often used me as a shield from my dad.
Now, will you join me on a short trip down the memory lane?
My dad loves sharing his food with me, even as a toddler. He used to feed me while I sat on the dining table, all ready for my kindergarten. He accidentally fed me a fishbone once and it got stuck in my throat. Ow! Yes, it hurt like hell and I didn’t even want to swallow my saliva ☹ I tried all kinds of ways but it didn’t dislodge until a couple of days after. Needless to say, I have stuck to fish fillets since then and refuse to eat fish with tiny bones.
I remember that my dad always met with accidents when I was young and he would walk me to my kindergarten across the field on crutches. When I went to school, my dad would drop me off for the school bus in the mornings and then in the afternoons he would wait at the bus stop for my return. This is a fond memory and it makes me smile ear to ear while typing this out.
When I was 12 and got the results of the first public examination I sat, my dad came to bring me home from school. My dad coming in to bring me home is a rare occurrence and we have always relied on the school bus. So, he came, I saw him and I cried. I’m not the brightest bulb in the box but I scored all right for that exam. Yet I felt like I would have disappointed him. My dad being the coolest, he brought me over to the supermarket and got ice cream to celebrate my success. I even remember when I got 'G' for my Additional Maths in high school, he always joked about G indicating ‘good’ rather than the original meaning ‘gagal’ (which means ‘fail!’ in Malay). He made me realise that grades aren’t everything in life.
Even though he was only a high school leaver, he never failed to amaze me with his excellent English proficiency. He would randomly come up with bombastic words in sentences, leaving me puzzled about the meaning. I am definitely much prouder of him than he ever was of me. He also loves singing old songs and I would join him for regular karaoke sessions at home. Thanks to him, now I have my own playlist of old songs. He taught me how to drive confidently and ensured I never gave way to more than one car at once. Hey! That’s a real struggle on the roads. You gotta have strong principles in life, mate 😃. He rarely undermines my voice and listens to my stories from school and work attentively. When he offers his opinion, it makes me happy that he is indeed listening to me.
When I was 16, I went out with my mum and sister on a bus. I got laughed at when I told off a school student for throwing rubbish in the bus. I was deeply hurt and came home to share the incident with my dad. I told my dad that I was embarrassed people laughed at me. He is actually awesome because he introduced the term ‘social responsibility’ to me. He said ‘it is not something to be embarrassed about, people who laughed at you are just ignorant’. He assured me that I did the right thing and should never be embarrassed for doing the right thing. Just because everyone is doing it, it isn’t the right thing, he said.
Cool, right? Yes, that’s my Appa!
As I grew up into adulthood, I talked about boys with him. He was cool about my first relationship, or maybe he knew it was not gonna last longer than a couple of months. Must have been one of those fatherly instincts moments. He always told me I am a woman of my own talent and skills. I should never rely on my beauty or a guy to feed me for the rest of my life. He emphasised that success is measured by someone’s character, not money, looks or career. He always instilled a sense of independence in me but still wanted me to know that I had him for support when needed. Most times, knowing I had his support made me achieve a lot of things in life. I never once felt the need to have another guy’s love but my dad’s.
He is my hero and we will always share a love-hate relationship because of our honesty, We are always telling each other off for the things we get wrong!
I must be lucky because I got to see two different sides of him. A life changing incident took place 18 months ago that showed me those distinct sides. One that is tough, masking all his emotions, being strong for the family. Another one that is soft and mushy for all the weird reasons. I can’t decide which version I like best. I love him just the way he is now. Not only did the incident change his life, but it also changed the lives of everyone around him. I can only speak for myself here, but I know everyone in my family dealt with the hardship in their own way.
So, the story begins like this…
One fine day (as cliché as that sounds) – it actually did start off as a good day – I was getting excited about exchanging gifts with my friends for Christmas, one of our annual traditions. It was the 17th of December, 2015. For those who do not know, I was working as a teacher at the time. It was 2 days before the semester holidays and I was done with all my report card comments. I was casually having my breakfast in the staffroom when my mum called. I answered and heard her panicky voice asking me to come home because my dad was unwell. Immediately, I met my coordinator and got signed off by her. I swear I could feel her doubtful gaze – 2015 was one of the shittiest years for me – because I had taken emergency leave for the loss of loved ones on three different occasions that year. What I didn’t know was that it was about to turn shittier; I didn’t know that was even possible. As I was driving home, my mum told me she had already called for an ambulance.
That moment, it struck me how bad my dad’s condition was. I am the youngest of three siblings and both my siblings were out of town at the time. It was time for the baby of the family to grow up. I reached home to find my mom struggling to keep my dad on the sofa. He kept sliding down, and at 6’2” and 120kg, he was a big man. I helped her to sit him up. Thankfully, my dad could still talk; however, he was in denial about his helplessness. Can you believe he asked for a cigarette even in that crucial moment? His exact words were:
*rolls eyes* (we joke about it now that it’s over). Finally, the ambulance arrived and the paramedics spoke to me. They explained that he had had a stroke but they didn’t have a neurology department at their hospital.
They gave me two options: bring him to their hospital for first aid, and transfer him to another hospital later, or admit him straight into a hospital with a neurology department. I made the decision. Given another chance, I would have done things differently, but let’s refrain from dwelling over the past. I did what I had to do; I asked the paramedics to bring him to the hospital for first aid, knowing I had to find another hospital with a neurologist on hand for further treatment.
The situation was critical. I was stressed beyond belief, but I couldn’t cry. I had to remain strong for my mum. I went in to the emergency room to console my dad and found that he was sedated because he kept fighting with the medical practitioners. I think it was bound to happen. He thought he was completely fine. It was a hard task getting a bed in another hospital. My brother had to pull some strings to get our father transferred that day. My siblings were back home by then and I felt a little more at ease. At least I didn’t have to take sole responsibility for the decisions after that, or so I thought.
Then came the next challenge. My dad is a retired man. He handled his finances independently. He was fiercely protective about his hard-earned money and I understood his stance on it. He liked to stash his large sums of cash in weird places at home. Although my dad thought he was hiding his cash in places I couldn’t find, I am the 'FBI' in my family. I know things no one else knows. Conveniently for my siblings, the finances fell into my hands because, apparently, my dad trusted me the most. Yes, he might have, but I was constantly conscious about spending his money. I would keep a book to keep track of the expenditure and receipts in the hope that my dad would ask for it. Little did I know how philanthropic he would become after his stroke.
I have little knowledge of scientific terms but my dad had a stroke on the right side of his brain, resulting in paralysis of his left limbs.
I knew about strokes but did not know the full extent of the implications. My uncle had a stroke over a decade before he passed away but I never asked about it. The saying ‘you don’t know the struggles until you walk a mile in their shoes’ comes to mind. That seemed to be true in this case. I didn’t understand that the journey to recovery was a long way away. He is still on the journey 18 months later. When he got transferred to the regular ward, I saw his struggles up close.
I saw a man who was broken, who thought he would never be able to walk again. It took three days for him to realise that the stroke had paralysed the left side of his body and even then he’d still ask for cigarettes. It was unbearable to see a strong man in that condition. He refused to ask for help when he needed it and my nights at the hospital with him felt endless. He was not used to adult diapers and was embarrassed about depending on others to bathe and change him. It must have hurt his ego to be helped in that sense. He was on a feeding tube for more than a week. I lost my appetite. My dad always shared food with me and it felt wrong to eat when he was on a feeding tube. It took me some time to realise that I needed my strength to help my Appa recuperate. Then came the day we had to bring him home. I had to go out and do shopping for our new necessities at home: wheelchair, commode and diapers. This was all new to me.
At home, it wasn’t an easy journey, and we didn’t have nurses to help out. I was around since it was the semester holiday. Finally, the day came for me to go back to work and my mum had to take care of my dad alone. It was taxing and I remember asking my dad if he wanted me to quit my job so I could look after him, but I was crying as I asked. He probably knew how much it hurt me to say those words because teaching is as important to me as he is, but I was willing to put it on hold for him. We came up with other supports such as a private nursing care and a physiotherapist.
It made me happy to see his progress, even the slightest. My dad would scold me for using my teacher voice on him but he needed someone to be stern. Otherwise he would talk his way out of things. Just like me when I was young. I taught him how to walk again, helping him up whenever he fell down. I became his pillar of strength, giving him words of encouragement whenever he felt down. It was like our roles were reversed. He became the child. I know putting up with me as a kid was not an easy task and I can only pay my parents back through simple actions like that.
Once, I remember my dad accidentally slapped me in frustration when I was helping him. Even when I was a child, my dad never hit me. Instinctively, I teared up, but still continued helping him despite the pain. I understood his frustration and was angrier with the situation than I was with him. My dad felt guilty and had started apologising to me. There was nothing to forgive him for; it is normal for him to lash out in this situation. Indeed, it was a painful journey of recovery. I would have emotional breakdowns every couple of months because I missed my strong man, but it was an important life lesson.
You reap what you sow. My dad saw the fruit of his labour. I am a grown-up who knows how to manage a household and finances. I am wiser and stronger than I was 18 months ago. I learnt the true colours of people around me. I found my true friends – friends who stood by me during tough times. My perspective on life has taken a massive 180 turn. I live to make memories now. Not everyone gets a second chance to live, but my dad did. The moment I felt like I was losing him was eye-opening. I started regretting all the times I had taken him for granted.
Now that I am away from him the distance works well for us. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder. He never fails to put a smile on my face whenever I call him. He stares at my smiling face without saying anything, complimenting me every time we speak. He is my confidence boost and the love of my life. I value our memories now more than ever.
The point of this whole story in a nutshell is that life just hands you bad moments and lets you deal with it. People who accept circumstances and are creative with it lead a more fulfilling life than the ones who complain and whine about it. So, let’s be creative! 😊
Now, will you join me on a short trip down the memory lane?
My dad loves sharing his food with me, even as a toddler. He used to feed me while I sat on the dining table, all ready for my kindergarten. He accidentally fed me a fishbone once and it got stuck in my throat. Ow! Yes, it hurt like hell and I didn’t even want to swallow my saliva ☹ I tried all kinds of ways but it didn’t dislodge until a couple of days after. Needless to say, I have stuck to fish fillets since then and refuse to eat fish with tiny bones.
I remember that my dad always met with accidents when I was young and he would walk me to my kindergarten across the field on crutches. When I went to school, my dad would drop me off for the school bus in the mornings and then in the afternoons he would wait at the bus stop for my return. This is a fond memory and it makes me smile ear to ear while typing this out.
When I was 12 and got the results of the first public examination I sat, my dad came to bring me home from school. My dad coming in to bring me home is a rare occurrence and we have always relied on the school bus. So, he came, I saw him and I cried. I’m not the brightest bulb in the box but I scored all right for that exam. Yet I felt like I would have disappointed him. My dad being the coolest, he brought me over to the supermarket and got ice cream to celebrate my success. I even remember when I got 'G' for my Additional Maths in high school, he always joked about G indicating ‘good’ rather than the original meaning ‘gagal’ (which means ‘fail!’ in Malay). He made me realise that grades aren’t everything in life.
Even though he was only a high school leaver, he never failed to amaze me with his excellent English proficiency. He would randomly come up with bombastic words in sentences, leaving me puzzled about the meaning. I am definitely much prouder of him than he ever was of me. He also loves singing old songs and I would join him for regular karaoke sessions at home. Thanks to him, now I have my own playlist of old songs. He taught me how to drive confidently and ensured I never gave way to more than one car at once. Hey! That’s a real struggle on the roads. You gotta have strong principles in life, mate 😃. He rarely undermines my voice and listens to my stories from school and work attentively. When he offers his opinion, it makes me happy that he is indeed listening to me.
When I was 16, I went out with my mum and sister on a bus. I got laughed at when I told off a school student for throwing rubbish in the bus. I was deeply hurt and came home to share the incident with my dad. I told my dad that I was embarrassed people laughed at me. He is actually awesome because he introduced the term ‘social responsibility’ to me. He said ‘it is not something to be embarrassed about, people who laughed at you are just ignorant’. He assured me that I did the right thing and should never be embarrassed for doing the right thing. Just because everyone is doing it, it isn’t the right thing, he said.
Cool, right? Yes, that’s my Appa!
As I grew up into adulthood, I talked about boys with him. He was cool about my first relationship, or maybe he knew it was not gonna last longer than a couple of months. Must have been one of those fatherly instincts moments. He always told me I am a woman of my own talent and skills. I should never rely on my beauty or a guy to feed me for the rest of my life. He emphasised that success is measured by someone’s character, not money, looks or career. He always instilled a sense of independence in me but still wanted me to know that I had him for support when needed. Most times, knowing I had his support made me achieve a lot of things in life. I never once felt the need to have another guy’s love but my dad’s.
He is my hero and we will always share a love-hate relationship because of our honesty, We are always telling each other off for the things we get wrong!
I must be lucky because I got to see two different sides of him. A life changing incident took place 18 months ago that showed me those distinct sides. One that is tough, masking all his emotions, being strong for the family. Another one that is soft and mushy for all the weird reasons. I can’t decide which version I like best. I love him just the way he is now. Not only did the incident change his life, but it also changed the lives of everyone around him. I can only speak for myself here, but I know everyone in my family dealt with the hardship in their own way.
So, the story begins like this…
One fine day (as cliché as that sounds) – it actually did start off as a good day – I was getting excited about exchanging gifts with my friends for Christmas, one of our annual traditions. It was the 17th of December, 2015. For those who do not know, I was working as a teacher at the time. It was 2 days before the semester holidays and I was done with all my report card comments. I was casually having my breakfast in the staffroom when my mum called. I answered and heard her panicky voice asking me to come home because my dad was unwell. Immediately, I met my coordinator and got signed off by her. I swear I could feel her doubtful gaze – 2015 was one of the shittiest years for me – because I had taken emergency leave for the loss of loved ones on three different occasions that year. What I didn’t know was that it was about to turn shittier; I didn’t know that was even possible. As I was driving home, my mum told me she had already called for an ambulance.
That moment, it struck me how bad my dad’s condition was. I am the youngest of three siblings and both my siblings were out of town at the time. It was time for the baby of the family to grow up. I reached home to find my mom struggling to keep my dad on the sofa. He kept sliding down, and at 6’2” and 120kg, he was a big man. I helped her to sit him up. Thankfully, my dad could still talk; however, he was in denial about his helplessness. Can you believe he asked for a cigarette even in that crucial moment? His exact words were:
‘light up a cigarette for me and I will be fine’
*rolls eyes* (we joke about it now that it’s over). Finally, the ambulance arrived and the paramedics spoke to me. They explained that he had had a stroke but they didn’t have a neurology department at their hospital.
They gave me two options: bring him to their hospital for first aid, and transfer him to another hospital later, or admit him straight into a hospital with a neurology department. I made the decision. Given another chance, I would have done things differently, but let’s refrain from dwelling over the past. I did what I had to do; I asked the paramedics to bring him to the hospital for first aid, knowing I had to find another hospital with a neurologist on hand for further treatment.
The situation was critical. I was stressed beyond belief, but I couldn’t cry. I had to remain strong for my mum. I went in to the emergency room to console my dad and found that he was sedated because he kept fighting with the medical practitioners. I think it was bound to happen. He thought he was completely fine. It was a hard task getting a bed in another hospital. My brother had to pull some strings to get our father transferred that day. My siblings were back home by then and I felt a little more at ease. At least I didn’t have to take sole responsibility for the decisions after that, or so I thought.
Then came the next challenge. My dad is a retired man. He handled his finances independently. He was fiercely protective about his hard-earned money and I understood his stance on it. He liked to stash his large sums of cash in weird places at home. Although my dad thought he was hiding his cash in places I couldn’t find, I am the 'FBI' in my family. I know things no one else knows. Conveniently for my siblings, the finances fell into my hands because, apparently, my dad trusted me the most. Yes, he might have, but I was constantly conscious about spending his money. I would keep a book to keep track of the expenditure and receipts in the hope that my dad would ask for it. Little did I know how philanthropic he would become after his stroke.
I have little knowledge of scientific terms but my dad had a stroke on the right side of his brain, resulting in paralysis of his left limbs.
I knew about strokes but did not know the full extent of the implications. My uncle had a stroke over a decade before he passed away but I never asked about it. The saying ‘you don’t know the struggles until you walk a mile in their shoes’ comes to mind. That seemed to be true in this case. I didn’t understand that the journey to recovery was a long way away. He is still on the journey 18 months later. When he got transferred to the regular ward, I saw his struggles up close.
I saw a man who was broken, who thought he would never be able to walk again. It took three days for him to realise that the stroke had paralysed the left side of his body and even then he’d still ask for cigarettes. It was unbearable to see a strong man in that condition. He refused to ask for help when he needed it and my nights at the hospital with him felt endless. He was not used to adult diapers and was embarrassed about depending on others to bathe and change him. It must have hurt his ego to be helped in that sense. He was on a feeding tube for more than a week. I lost my appetite. My dad always shared food with me and it felt wrong to eat when he was on a feeding tube. It took me some time to realise that I needed my strength to help my Appa recuperate. Then came the day we had to bring him home. I had to go out and do shopping for our new necessities at home: wheelchair, commode and diapers. This was all new to me.
At home, it wasn’t an easy journey, and we didn’t have nurses to help out. I was around since it was the semester holiday. Finally, the day came for me to go back to work and my mum had to take care of my dad alone. It was taxing and I remember asking my dad if he wanted me to quit my job so I could look after him, but I was crying as I asked. He probably knew how much it hurt me to say those words because teaching is as important to me as he is, but I was willing to put it on hold for him. We came up with other supports such as a private nursing care and a physiotherapist.
It made me happy to see his progress, even the slightest. My dad would scold me for using my teacher voice on him but he needed someone to be stern. Otherwise he would talk his way out of things. Just like me when I was young. I taught him how to walk again, helping him up whenever he fell down. I became his pillar of strength, giving him words of encouragement whenever he felt down. It was like our roles were reversed. He became the child. I know putting up with me as a kid was not an easy task and I can only pay my parents back through simple actions like that.
Once, I remember my dad accidentally slapped me in frustration when I was helping him. Even when I was a child, my dad never hit me. Instinctively, I teared up, but still continued helping him despite the pain. I understood his frustration and was angrier with the situation than I was with him. My dad felt guilty and had started apologising to me. There was nothing to forgive him for; it is normal for him to lash out in this situation. Indeed, it was a painful journey of recovery. I would have emotional breakdowns every couple of months because I missed my strong man, but it was an important life lesson.
You reap what you sow. My dad saw the fruit of his labour. I am a grown-up who knows how to manage a household and finances. I am wiser and stronger than I was 18 months ago. I learnt the true colours of people around me. I found my true friends – friends who stood by me during tough times. My perspective on life has taken a massive 180 turn. I live to make memories now. Not everyone gets a second chance to live, but my dad did. The moment I felt like I was losing him was eye-opening. I started regretting all the times I had taken him for granted.
Now that I am away from him the distance works well for us. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder. He never fails to put a smile on my face whenever I call him. He stares at my smiling face without saying anything, complimenting me every time we speak. He is my confidence boost and the love of my life. I value our memories now more than ever.
The point of this whole story in a nutshell is that life just hands you bad moments and lets you deal with it. People who accept circumstances and are creative with it lead a more fulfilling life than the ones who complain and whine about it. So, let’s be creative! 😊
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