The Monabandi Chronicles : the Lady, the Wheelchair, and her Daily Routine.

There’s something poetic about using the Vitara to get Mom to and from the hospital. It’s a regular thing I get to do nowadays. And the lessons for me at this stage were hard-earned.

When it comes to taking care of family, there is no proxy. You have to do it. No maids. No helpers. I’m just glad I get to take care of her with my own hands while I can.

When her arm was broken in April, mom could not get around with her walking frame. The wheelchair became her main mode of getting around. I have managed her requirements at home, lifting her throughout the day and night for the last 6 months. Moving her in and out of the vehicle became another routine : lifting her clear off her wheelchair, and placing her onto the passenger seat. I did not realise the effect of these repeated movements until I realised that my shirt colars were becoming tighter, as were my shirts’ shoulder seams area.

I’m glad I have the flexibility to work from home, balancing work with providing care for her. The latter can range from handling her daily needs: from getting her to. brush her teeth, getting her breakfast, preparing her medication, selecting her wardrobe for the day, providing her ablution (wudhu) before prayer times, and then moving her to her bed. There are other myriad tasks of course, too many to list out but equally important to make sure she is comfortable.

I steal an hour or so when she is resting in the afternoon to go for a 5 km run. Often this is under the hot sun at 2 pm in the afternoon. I need it to think up some ideas – with the Nike Running Club app, with music or a podcast lecture in the background. Then it’s back to the house to get her ready for Asar, and Maghrib.

At night, her sleep is usually interrupted multiple times, as is ours – such is the effects of her aging. We go with the flow, and I make sure that her rest is compensated later during the day.

Our Pakistani neighbours were concerned one day when an ambulance entered our driveway once.

‘Is mother ok?’, Jihan my neighbour asked the evening it happened.

‘She’s recovering,’ I had answered. Mom just had an adverse reaction to an antibiotic. It was an effective antibiotic in managing an infection, but equally effective in giving her vertigo and making her throw up. With advancing age, the body’s capacity for healing slows down and it does not handle well the chemical interventions we provide it. Making sure Mom’s medication has no unwanted effects was like a balancing exercise : use only what is necessary, and monitor any recent changes in medication for reactions.

I crack a lot of jokes with her when she feels down. She laughs. I also ask her for her childhood stories, and bring her down memory lane to the holidays we used to take when I was a little boy. I take care of her hair, finetuning the intricacies of combing it and tying it neatly with a hair tie. She likes toast with jam, but every few days we eat out to break the monotony.

I get her to call family and friends (less frequent now as most had passed on) from our dining table with the tv across the room always tuned in to the local Brunei RTB while another would show streaming programs from Malaysia’s RTM or Tubi. She doesn’t care much for the programs though: her main access to news coming from the newspaper I get her every few days.

My daughter Trisha Bandi is my co-care provider, wise beyond her years and equally as adept in handling her needs. Everyone pitches in when they are at home. It takes a concerted effort on everyone’s part of which I am immensely thankful.

But it’s that moment at night when I lift Mom to her bed and tuck her in that hits me everytime,

‘Thanks son’, she says ‘thanks for taking care of me’

To which I will just smile. It feels not enough. I feel inadequate. She had done more for me, than I could ever give back in return.

Thank you, Mom. We can never promise for tomorrow, and we don’t know what tomorrow brings. But I’m glad that we have you at this very moment.

We thank you for you.

The Monabandi Chronicles is a collection of stories centered around our family, including myself (Subandi), my wife Monarita, and our children. Over the years, I have been gathering these stories, starting from when our kids were little. Within the pages, I have discovered a wealth of valuable insights and wisdom. I genuinely hope that you find enjoyment in reading them.