All Over Again
Yesterday, we (my sister and niece, my boyfriend & I, my cousin Ching-Ching and her daughter and another cousin Jo Ann) were at the Sta. Ana Church Ossuary at 4pm for the 2nd interment of my papa and mama.
***** ***** *****
My father died of MI (Myocardial Infarction) in October 1999. My eldest sister called me at the office at 7am (I used to come in to work at 6am for the AM shift) crying while telling me the bad news. It was a shock to both of us as that was the day my father was scheduled to be discharged from the hospital (he was confined for an entirely different reason) and we were going to fetch him and our mama that afternoon. At that moment, I was in denial. I didn't want to cry, believing that his life depended on it. But after I replaced the receiver, I knew I should accept that fact and give in to the grief that was overwhelmingly making me quiver. But the sad thing was that, now that I wanted to cry, I couldn't! I just couldn't! I was like a cold robot walking towards my manager and asking permission to go home because my father died. Not a tear fell from my eyes.
I was so devastated and going home alone even worsened it. When I opened the door to the house and saw my sister, there and then I burst into tears and my sobs competed with those of my sister's. In my mind I thought, "this is really it". In between crying and catching breaths, we called out, "papa!" until we couldn't cry anymore.
It has been almost 6 years since that day and I realized that until now, the pain is still so fresh. I remember now that after my father's death (and funeral) I can't remember when I cried again for him. It's not because I forgot about him or that I don't feel the emptiness he has left behind but I kept avoiding it firstly because I didn't want my mama to know, see or hear me crying as it will upset her. My mother already had a heart problem at that time and I didn't want her to feel the extreme pain or even remember it if she sees me crying. Mama used to look at my father's picture and talk to him as if he were alive. Secondly, I consider myself my "papa's girl". I felt close to my father ever since I was a kid. That's why losing him was like having no reason to live meaningfully anymore. I didn't mind that we had hard times dealing with his Parkinson's Disease. Those were difficult times but we made it through our daily lives and still felt lucky being together as a family.
I always felt sad everytime I remembered what he had been through. Since then I kept avoiding this pain that accompanied the void that was left in our hearts. I guess, I still am not over it. As I look back now, it must have been even more difficult for my father to suffer such an incurable and degenerating disease. My only consolation was, he didn't have a painful death because he died in his sleep.
***** ***** *****
After my father's death, it was like the 'real' start of my mother's ordeal with Diabetes. Although she had been diagnosed to have Diabetes Mellitus Type II (DM II) in 1992-1993, it was only until then that the complications of her uncontrolled blood sugar levels began to appear. Mama complained of blurred vision. Not that she had a perfect 20/20 vision before this but it bothered her already. The doctor told us she had many blood clots in her eyes (not visible to the human eye) and that she needed to undergo Laser treatment to get rid of these. But that didn't mean her vision will be returned to normal. If she didn't, she'll risk blindness. So she underwent the 4 sessions and we returned to our normal daily lives.
Every year after that, she was always hospitalized for at least 5 days. Complaints ranged from having chest pains, difficulty of breathing and a consistently high Blood Pressure (BP) at more than 190/100 and even reached 260/90 at its highest. There was a time my mother was already quivering and felt so weak she kept telling herself, "this is it, this is it" and calling out to God to take her. She called every relative in the room and leaving her final messages to them. We were all crying at that moment. But she survived it.
Then she had trouble sleeping that she went to the province for vacation at her sister's house hoping the smell of fresh air would give her the relaxation she badly needed. In May 2003, she was rushed to a hospital due of difficulty of breathing. I arrived at the province the next day to find my mother in the middle of her dialysis session. She was so pale and frail. She had a slow recovery since then. She underwent 2 AV fistula operations (the 1st one proved a failure) to provide access for hemodialysis. Due to her old age and Diabetes, mama's veins had become so fragile that every sticking of needles before hemodialysis was a struggle in itself as the area was already swollen from the previous session(s).
Later in 2004, her fistula did not function properly and it didn't help that mama's blood easily clotted during hemodialysis resulting to more blood loss. Since no other part of her body can accommodate another AV fistula, a permanent catheter (permcath) was installed at her neck. Mama was already so weak this time that she couldn't walk alone and got tired so easily. All these coming and going to the hospital or the dialysis center, the financial aspects of every decision made and all care taken in treating the complications of Diabetes were physically, emotionally and psychologically exhausting for us. Add to that the pain of losing her beloved only brother (their youngest sibling) to colon cancer. I couldn't help crying at times as I had nobody to talk to. I began having chest pains and even panic attacks.
One time, my friend visited mama and told her she'd pray for her fast recovery. My friend then asked her what she (mama) wanted to pray for. She answered (not the exact words maybe but as I remembered it), "Liberty. Freedom from all these pain and suffering. I am old and useless, I don't want to live like this anymore". I was on the verge of tears when I heard that. It took every ounce of strength left in me to hold it back or totally lose it. What kept me going despite all these was the thought that I had to be strong if only for my mother. Her appetite improved for a while after the permcath operation and she was able to sit down on the bed and eat without help from anybody. But she got so weak again that in January 2005, her heart finally gave in and she died from MI secondary to pulmonary arrest.
***** ***** *****
Yesterday, both were laid to rest and I felt the pain all over again.
(To all my friends, who had been there during those trying times, who visited us at the hospital, who extended their assistance in any way they could, who condoled in our time of grief: May God reward you for all the kindness, thoughtfulness and concern you have shown us. I only have two ordinary words that definitely mean so much--> Thank you.)
***** ***** *****
My father died of MI (Myocardial Infarction) in October 1999. My eldest sister called me at the office at 7am (I used to come in to work at 6am for the AM shift) crying while telling me the bad news. It was a shock to both of us as that was the day my father was scheduled to be discharged from the hospital (he was confined for an entirely different reason) and we were going to fetch him and our mama that afternoon. At that moment, I was in denial. I didn't want to cry, believing that his life depended on it. But after I replaced the receiver, I knew I should accept that fact and give in to the grief that was overwhelmingly making me quiver. But the sad thing was that, now that I wanted to cry, I couldn't! I just couldn't! I was like a cold robot walking towards my manager and asking permission to go home because my father died. Not a tear fell from my eyes.
I was so devastated and going home alone even worsened it. When I opened the door to the house and saw my sister, there and then I burst into tears and my sobs competed with those of my sister's. In my mind I thought, "this is really it". In between crying and catching breaths, we called out, "papa!" until we couldn't cry anymore.
It has been almost 6 years since that day and I realized that until now, the pain is still so fresh. I remember now that after my father's death (and funeral) I can't remember when I cried again for him. It's not because I forgot about him or that I don't feel the emptiness he has left behind but I kept avoiding it firstly because I didn't want my mama to know, see or hear me crying as it will upset her. My mother already had a heart problem at that time and I didn't want her to feel the extreme pain or even remember it if she sees me crying. Mama used to look at my father's picture and talk to him as if he were alive. Secondly, I consider myself my "papa's girl". I felt close to my father ever since I was a kid. That's why losing him was like having no reason to live meaningfully anymore. I didn't mind that we had hard times dealing with his Parkinson's Disease. Those were difficult times but we made it through our daily lives and still felt lucky being together as a family.
I always felt sad everytime I remembered what he had been through. Since then I kept avoiding this pain that accompanied the void that was left in our hearts. I guess, I still am not over it. As I look back now, it must have been even more difficult for my father to suffer such an incurable and degenerating disease. My only consolation was, he didn't have a painful death because he died in his sleep.
***** ***** *****
After my father's death, it was like the 'real' start of my mother's ordeal with Diabetes. Although she had been diagnosed to have Diabetes Mellitus Type II (DM II) in 1992-1993, it was only until then that the complications of her uncontrolled blood sugar levels began to appear. Mama complained of blurred vision. Not that she had a perfect 20/20 vision before this but it bothered her already. The doctor told us she had many blood clots in her eyes (not visible to the human eye) and that she needed to undergo Laser treatment to get rid of these. But that didn't mean her vision will be returned to normal. If she didn't, she'll risk blindness. So she underwent the 4 sessions and we returned to our normal daily lives.
Every year after that, she was always hospitalized for at least 5 days. Complaints ranged from having chest pains, difficulty of breathing and a consistently high Blood Pressure (BP) at more than 190/100 and even reached 260/90 at its highest. There was a time my mother was already quivering and felt so weak she kept telling herself, "this is it, this is it" and calling out to God to take her. She called every relative in the room and leaving her final messages to them. We were all crying at that moment. But she survived it.
Then she had trouble sleeping that she went to the province for vacation at her sister's house hoping the smell of fresh air would give her the relaxation she badly needed. In May 2003, she was rushed to a hospital due of difficulty of breathing. I arrived at the province the next day to find my mother in the middle of her dialysis session. She was so pale and frail. She had a slow recovery since then. She underwent 2 AV fistula operations (the 1st one proved a failure) to provide access for hemodialysis. Due to her old age and Diabetes, mama's veins had become so fragile that every sticking of needles before hemodialysis was a struggle in itself as the area was already swollen from the previous session(s).
Later in 2004, her fistula did not function properly and it didn't help that mama's blood easily clotted during hemodialysis resulting to more blood loss. Since no other part of her body can accommodate another AV fistula, a permanent catheter (permcath) was installed at her neck. Mama was already so weak this time that she couldn't walk alone and got tired so easily. All these coming and going to the hospital or the dialysis center, the financial aspects of every decision made and all care taken in treating the complications of Diabetes were physically, emotionally and psychologically exhausting for us. Add to that the pain of losing her beloved only brother (their youngest sibling) to colon cancer. I couldn't help crying at times as I had nobody to talk to. I began having chest pains and even panic attacks.
One time, my friend visited mama and told her she'd pray for her fast recovery. My friend then asked her what she (mama) wanted to pray for. She answered (not the exact words maybe but as I remembered it), "Liberty. Freedom from all these pain and suffering. I am old and useless, I don't want to live like this anymore". I was on the verge of tears when I heard that. It took every ounce of strength left in me to hold it back or totally lose it. What kept me going despite all these was the thought that I had to be strong if only for my mother. Her appetite improved for a while after the permcath operation and she was able to sit down on the bed and eat without help from anybody. But she got so weak again that in January 2005, her heart finally gave in and she died from MI secondary to pulmonary arrest.
***** ***** *****
Yesterday, both were laid to rest and I felt the pain all over again.
(To all my friends, who had been there during those trying times, who visited us at the hospital, who extended their assistance in any way they could, who condoled in our time of grief: May God reward you for all the kindness, thoughtfulness and concern you have shown us. I only have two ordinary words that definitely mean so much--> Thank you.)
posted by Giggle at 11:00 PM
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