I met a boy today (this is one lonnnggg entry)
Saturday, May 19th, 2007I met a boy during rehearsal today.
I was at the medical point due to gastric and had just sat down after popping my medicine when I saw another boy, who was throwing tantrums at the medic.
"I dowan to sit down~~~~ I want to go home~~~ I want my Uncle~~~Is he coming? Is he done?"
He walked around restlessly despite his complaints of stomach pain and his incessant chattering proved to be too irritating for Miss I-am-in-gastric-pain. (Moi.) He had been there longer than me and must have been quite a handful for the medics. Everyone was so patient with him and yet this was how he behaved! Goodness me! I stared at him, who was by then seated next to me while toying with the first aid box’s cover.
Me: Can you just stop it? Stop fiddling with the first aid box can?
He walked away. But that was not the end of it. Nope, he had to go on and demand to sit, then decided not to… decided to sleep on the stretcher, then decided not to… then asked that the medic put medicated oil on his tummy,(which she refused) and later spilled water all over the floor because he wanted to wash the oil off his hand after rubbing his tummy with it. But the real sentence that really pissed me off was this (before he washed his hand with the bottled water)
Medic: I think better not wash your hand, just wipe off with your t-shirt la. (chinese stuff- if you wash your hand after putting medicated oil, will get rheumatism later in life.)
Boy: (Lifts off the corner of his towel to show off the logo on his t- shirt) I wearing ADIDAS t-shirt leh! Later dirty how?
I asked the medic to advise him to wipe it off his towel and hopefully get some on his face. (And yes, she said it jokingly to him. But lao niang here was so pissed off; I meant it ok.)
I held him firmly (note, the word here is firmly, no pain inflicted) and spoke to him.
Me: What’s your name?
Him: XXX
Me: Ok then, XXX, I’m not feeling too good, my gastric is acting up, I feel like throwing up and if you continue to act like that, my gastric will get worse because of you and I think I might want to throw up on you, but I don’t want to dirty that prweety, branded ADIDAS t-shirt of yours. So can you please sit down and stop moving. (Icy stare)
I think he got my point. EIther that, or he loves that t-shirt very very much. Or he hates the smell of vomit on his body.
He chit-chatted with me for a while and laid on a stretcher.
Him: You think my uncle knows I’m here? What if I fall sleep? When is he going to come?
Me: Well, he will know. If you fall asleep I’ll ask him to carry you on the stretcher and head for the car. and Maybe put you in the car boot.
He laughed and relaxed slightly.
Me: learn a bit of patience XXX… people will like you better when you are more patient and quiet.
He behaved better until I left. Afterwhich I wish to think that he didn’t make anyone’s position difficult and his uncle picked him up and whisked him home asap.
