Calm Sunday morning.
Thought of waking up - naturally.
Naturally basically means sleep till late late, but kids are already jumpy and going all over the bed like baboons in the zoo.
My wife and I craved for the beef noodle near the old town.
We forced ourselves up and got dressed up for that awesome morning meal.
By the time we were there with my 2 little angels, the whole place was packed with people from all walks of life.
That shop was hidden away into small alley and without any signboard of the shop's name.
Frankly-speaking, it doesn't need a name.
Everyone seems to know this place.
As we sat down and began to order, the dried a.k.a. gravy version, mee and koay teow had already finished... at 845am.
Only left were the noodles with soup version.
Still a good enjoyable dish.
The next table was filled with a group of youngster, possibly in their early 20's.
A few of them started to light up a ciggie each.
It annoyed me a lot as my kids were there exposed to those toxic fumes.
Intermittently, I stared at them, the few who lighted up, giving them my infamous crazy eyes stare.
Luckily the nicotinic aroma did not travel to my table as the fan was directing the wind away from my table.
Out of sudden, a sudden crash was heard.
The soup of a youngster who sat just behind me were splashed all over the place.
My initial thought was they were playfully fighting or playing, but as I turned over, I could see above my shoulder, a young man was basically fitting on his chair.
All of his friends, in their stylish half-blonde and semi-redhead hairstyle, were stunned and tried to hold him down and tight as if their strength will stop him from shaking.
I quickly ordered my wife to bring my children to the other side of the table.
With the help of his friend, a plump guy with less clothing or hairstyle sense but more senses in everything else, we brought him down to the floor slowly and put him in left lateral position.
All his other friends just stood there, indulging in their own anxiety, puffing away more ciggies and basically blowing those smokes to their fitting friend and to my face.
I asked them to go away and provide more air for his friend and the plump friend (let just call him fatso) was suddenly on the phone.
While holding the phone, Fatso pinched on the fitting friend's nose and obliterating it, as I was holding his cheek turning him left lateral.
I was shocked, surprised and practically speechless.
Fatso revealed he was talking to the fitting friend's mother and that was fitting boy's mom's order.
I quickly slapped that hand off the nose as I saw the lips slowly turning cyanosed.
At that point, I had to declare my identity as doctor and I know what to do.
The fit aborted spontaneously but he was still drowsy and breathing in deeply.
The blueish discoloration of the lips went into a crimson shade of relief.
I asked for help to fan the fitting guy and someone volunteered to do it with the newspapers folded into two.
On and off, there will be people, mostly looks like those who survived Japanese occupation, coming over my ears and trying to convince me to shove a spoon into his mouth or do something to prevent him from biting his own tongue.
One actually suggested putting in a finger.
I smiled at them, although, I could not tell you how much I wish to laugh out frantically and suggest to them to volunteer their fingers.
I explained that it is important not to put as if foreign body broken off it may cause choking.
I also explained turning to side will prevent the tongue from falling back and block the airway.
Fatso continued to talk to the mom, telling the mom, I was pressing on the fitting man's neck.
"Helloooo.... This is cheek and not neck lah."
Anxiety-induced visual illusion.
"Please call for ambulance." I ordered.
Fatso asked me "Mister, do you have the phone number of ambulance?"
My mind was yelling "WTF!" but my words was exactly "Call 999 and ask for hospital".
I was not sure if it was education failure or community failure or just purely another anxiety-induced morbid panic, even as a young chap when my legs were short and my shorts were small, I always knew 999 was for police, firemen and ambulance.
The ambulance couldn't come because they don't know where were we.
Really couldn't blame them, this place was pretty hidden away from the main streets.
That person slowly regained consciousness and I asked him if he knew who he was.
I asked Fatso what was the fitting boy's name. "Yxx Hxx"
As if in a deep slumber, he answered "I am Suai Ker Xing (Handsome Xing)." and fell back to sleep.
All his friends quickly brought him into their "sport car", modified version of our local car and they sped off to the nearest hospital.
It's been quite long time since I last seen any fits.
The last fit that I encountered was the 5 seconds eclampsia that spontaneously relieved, too fast for my eyes. This was like 5 years ago.
Wifey was impressed and sort of figure out I am not just another lame fanny doctor.
It was an eye-opener to my kids and they are still trying to digest what exactly was happening.
All my cute daughter told me was "That uncle is sick."
As a whole, I think my medical and public health colleagues still have a lot of grounds to cover as even the epileptic's mother do not know how to administer the correct first aid (WTF, pinch nose and obstruct nasal airway) and the general public as a whole in the misperceptions in attending to person with seizure.
Here's a good read about seizure treatment.