A childhood less ordinary
She burst into tears when she began to understand that she would need to be admitted soon. To delay surgery any longer would make things worse.
Tears streamed down her cheek as she sobbed uncontrollably, shaking her head and stamping her feet furiously on the floor, those feet whose skin had become swollen, shiny and discoloured.
Together with a swollen abdomen that gives the semblance of a woman in mid pregnancy, they were telltale signs that her illness has indeed progressed to a stage where surgery would be strongly advised.
We were caught surprise by her suddenly becoming upset, largely because whatever we had to explain had to be translated by Fong, her guardian, whose command of Bahasa is, at most, only fair.
But I guess Fong too, was surprised, and she quickly came to her side to comfort and reassure her - " it's not really that bad at all".
I have known Leong since three years ago when she was nine, referred to me by her paediatrician when her illness became more serious. She had come to our hospital accompanied by Fong who appeared to be in her forties and two men from the temple administration.
Common thread
I could only guess that the two men were there to show Fong which buses to take and how to catch a taxi from Puduraya to the hospital as I never saw them again after that first visit.
I guess I am privileged. I come into contact with children and their parents from almost the entire cross-section of Malaysian society without me having to look for them.
There are rural Kelantanese-Thais, upper-middle-class families from KL's affluent suburbs, Ibans living in long houses in the deep interiors of Sarawak for whom even Kuching is a distant world, to mention just some of them.
The common thread among them is that they all have serious heart ailments that need specialised treatment. Quite often the children's ward seems to me like a microcosm of Malaysia and it is delightful to see how the children interact happily after a day or so of coming out of their shell.
But I had least expected meeting people like Leong and Fong, her guardian who is also a Buddhist nun. Head shaven, she always wore the traditional dark grey or brown loose blouse and pants that reminded me of the Shaolin movies I used to watch as a teenager in the 1970s.
She always has with her a dark brown cotton sling bag in which she carries important documents. With her gentle, shy demeanor and unusual attire, she must have seemed strange to those other women, mothers of other patients, as they sat waiting for their turn.
Leong and Fong live in a Buddhist Temple in a northern town. From a large family of 10 children, Leong was given to Fong for adoption at the age of two months and she has never seen her family since and neither does she know where they are now.
Medical condition
To her, Fong is more than just a guardian. Except for school, the temple is her world. If not for her illness, I guess she would only come to the capital city much later, leaving the temple as an adult to chart her own life, that is, unless she decides to become a nun like Fong and continue living there.
Fong herself was given up for adoption at the age of four and like Leong, the temple has been her only world, a world without male role models close at hand. Fong was one of two nuns there until the older one died recently at age 90 and there is another girl four years older than Leong in the temple's care.
To add to the sad circumstances of her childhood, Leong suffers from a medical condition called "constrictive pericarditis" and that's how I came to know of her. The thin sac-like protective covering around the heart has become thick and hardened due to an earlier infection and this has impeded the return of blood back to the heart, causing the swelling in her legs and abdomen.
Who can blame Fong for spoiling her a little by ferrying her to and back from school each day on a bicycle? Each day, Fong would cook for the two girls before cooking her own vegetarian meals though quite often they would rather partake of hers.
Initially I was worried that with the long bus journey to Puduraya, then having to persuade a taxi driver to take them to the hospital and not to mention the return journey, they might just give up. But I knew after their second and third visits that my fears were completely unfounded.
She kept her appointments very religiously. I was happy that for a while Leong's symptoms managed to be controlled by medications, but lately, despite increased dosages, they just worsened and that made surgery rather inevitable.
Pursued through the streets
She burst into tears when she began to understand that she would need to be admitted soon. To delay surgery any longer would make things worse.
Tears streamed down her cheek as she sobbed uncontrollably, shaking her head and stamping her feet furiously on the floor, those feet whose skin had become swollen, shiny and discoloured.
Together with a swollen abdomen that gives the semblance of a woman in mid pregnancy, they were telltale signs that her illness has indeed progressed to a stage where surgery would be strongly advised.
We were caught surprise by her suddenly becoming upset, largely because whatever we had to explain had to be translated by Fong, her guardian, whose command of Bahasa is, at most, only fair.
But I guess Fong too, was surprised, and she quickly came to her side to comfort and reassure her - " it's not really that bad at all".
I have known Leong since three years ago when she was nine, referred to me by her paediatrician when her illness became more serious. She had come to our hospital accompanied by Fong who appeared to be in her forties and two men from the temple administration.
Common thread
I could only guess that the two men were there to show Fong which buses to take and how to catch a taxi from Puduraya to the hospital as I never saw them again after that first visit.
I guess I am privileged. I come into contact with children and their parents from almost the entire cross-section of Malaysian society without me having to look for them.
There are rural Kelantanese-Thais, upper-middle-class families from KL's affluent suburbs, Ibans living in long houses in the deep interiors of Sarawak for whom even Kuching is a distant world, to mention just some of them.
The common thread among them is that they all have serious heart ailments that need specialised treatment. Quite often the children's ward seems to me like a microcosm of Malaysia and it is delightful to see how the children interact happily after a day or so of coming out of their shell.
But I had least expected meeting people like Leong and Fong, her guardian who is also a Buddhist nun. Head shaven, she always wore the traditional dark grey or brown loose blouse and pants that reminded me of the Shaolin movies I used to watch as a teenager in the 1970s.
She always has with her a dark brown cotton sling bag in which she carries important documents. With her gentle, shy demeanor and unusual attire, she must have seemed strange to those other women, mothers of other patients, as they sat waiting for their turn.
Leong and Fong live in a Buddhist Temple in a northern town. From a large family of 10 children, Leong was given to Fong for adoption at the age of two months and she has never seen her family since and neither does she know where they are now.
Medical condition
To her, Fong is more than just a guardian. Except for school, the temple is her world. If not for her illness, I guess she would only come to the capital city much later, leaving the temple as an adult to chart her own life, that is, unless she decides to become a nun like Fong and continue living there.
Fong herself was given up for adoption at the age of four and like Leong, the temple has been her only world, a world without male role models close at hand. Fong was one of two nuns there until the older one died recently at age 90 and there is another girl four years older than Leong in the temple's care.
To add to the sad circumstances of her childhood, Leong suffers from a medical condition called "constrictive pericarditis" and that's how I came to know of her. The thin sac-like protective covering around the heart has become thick and hardened due to an earlier infection and this has impeded the return of blood back to the heart, causing the swelling in her legs and abdomen.
Who can blame Fong for spoiling her a little by ferrying her to and back from school each day on a bicycle? Each day, Fong would cook for the two girls before cooking her own vegetarian meals though quite often they would rather partake of hers.
Initially I was worried that with the long bus journey to Puduraya, then having to persuade a taxi driver to take them to the hospital and not to mention the return journey, they might just give up. But I knew after their second and third visits that my fears were completely unfounded.
She kept her appointments very religiously. I was happy that for a while Leong's symptoms managed to be controlled by medications, but lately, despite increased dosages, they just worsened and that made surgery rather inevitable.
Pursued through the streets
The first time I saw them and as I began to hear of Leong growing up in the temple, I could not help but draw a parallel with the story of Jean Valjean and Cossette in Hugo's Les Miserables .
All the more so upon reaching adolescence, Leong, like Cossette, looks pretty if one were not to pay attention to her abdomen and legs. Fong too, with her shaven head, heavy build and attire gave the impression of masculine strength like Valjean but this was quickly dispelled by her feminine voice and shy demeanour.
One recalls that pursued by Inspector Javert through the streets of Paris, Jean Valjean came to a dead end but with his immense physical strength, he managed to climb over the high walls of the convent Petit-Picpus, carrying Cossette on his back.
He had the good fortune of bumping into the convent gardener, Pre Fauchelevent, the man he had saved from being crushed under a cart, when he was mayor of Montreuil-Sur-Mer living under the false identity of Monsieur Madeleine.
Sheltered in the convent, they earned a reprieve from Javert's relentless pursuit as Cossette grew up receiving her education from the nuns.
On reaching adolescence, Jean Valjean decided to take her out to live in a normal world and that was when Marius came into her life amid the smouldering political conflict leading up to the 1832 insurrection.
Again, the volatile political climate especially in the capital city in the early part of the crisis when Leong would turn up as usual compelled me to draw a common thread between Hugo's fiction and the story of my charges.
I imagined they were both captivated by the sight of skyscrapers crowding the skyline of the central business district, with the Twin Towers forming its centrepiece as they looked for the first time, out from the large glass windows of their ward.
And what did they think of those dilapidated houses of Kampung Baru in the foreground juxtaposed with those concrete and glass towers?
Broken heart
I am happy that Leong recovered rapidly after her surgery (performed by my cardiac surgeon colleagues). I could also see that despite her initial protests, she was enjoying her stay in the hospital, except maybe the hospital meals as I kept bumping into them at meal times in the cafeteria.
Like other children unfamiliar with the Malay-speaking milieu, Leong's Bahasa improved appreciably and she became much less shy by the time she went 'home' after a two-week stay.
I have often wondered if Leong will one day find her Marius and leave Fong alone and old nursing a broken heart like Jean Valjean at the end of the novel.
Jean Valjean, much as he loved Cossette and would like to have her by his side forever, had to one day let her go to live a life of her own and seek her own happiness and I could see that before long the moment will come for them.
Perhaps I am too much influenced by Hugo's novel that I tend to always think of a sad ending but I certainly wish many long years of happiness between the two, that Leong would later reciprocate the love and tenderness such as Fong had showered on her.
Spiritual-moral crisis
I have often wondered if people like Fong and the institution she represents, regardless of which religious denomination, are fast fading out of Malaysia's rich and diverse cultural landscape.
With today's global credo of wealth accumulation and maximisation of profits gaining respectability and having a firm foothold in our society, Samaritan values and practices inspired by spiritual traditions can only be weakened and diluted.
It is easy to see that in such a driven society, more will fall by the wayside, some carrying children with them. And with our "Asian values", we are not supposed to run to the state for help.
The Malay community have long lamented publicly the spiritual-moral crisis affecting its youth. There will be many children like Leong who will need shelter, refuge and love. I know, I have worked with some of them.
But will they be as fortunate?
DR MAZENI ALWI is a medical practitioner who takes care of sick children.
