The fear is daunting on me again.
Images flashed back on my mind..
I watched her ailing body turned weaker and fragile each day; not be able to move freely by her own — she looked so helpless, so needy, it ache my heart each time I watched her.
Some days, she would be in coma and I would whisper into her ears my heartfelt words as I believed she could hear me in her ‘sleep’, and sadly that was the moment, I would only plucked up the courage to say those words — how much I love her.
When the doctor started to give her a stronger dosage of morphine to ease her pain, the effect of hallucination got into her mind..and in some days, she couldn’t recognize some of us – that was sad.. she couldn’t even recognize the children she loved dearly.
I remember I walked along the long passage way to enter into the huge white building where I practically visited every day; and stayed at least 4 hours each day..it had been my second home then..I patronized the canteen regularly, basically I had at least one meal at the canteen every single day..all in all..this repeated for a long four-month.
Weekends, I would be very conscious and paranoid when I gone out with friends for I would regularly check my cell phone—for any missed calls, and messages..to prepare to rush back to the white building in a swift.. in case I missed out the crucial moment.
Being there in the nights was depressive; and when it entered into midnight, it was the most busier time for the nurses...for loneliness kept the fearful awake; didn’t want to get to sleep (fearing that they might not woke up any more).. They called for attention..any excuses that they could make up..hungry; needed some snacks, pains; needed treatment, nature call; needed help to the toilet..all kinds--anything that could keep the nurses busy..and to keep them awake..
I would pet her and made her to sleep comfortably (reversed the role of a mother petting a child to sleep)..but she would hold my hand and said she feared she might not wake up again.. I caressed her skin..the layer of her skin was so thin; layers peeling off due the effect of numerous needles poked on her..gradually, her veins were no longer firmed to take on the needles. I would beg the nurse not to peel of the plaster on her skin as it might tear her skin..but the nurse would tear it off quickly when I wasn’t noticed..feared that I would cry..
I couldn’t remember how many times I tried very hard to control my tears when I was there in the four-bedded room. I told myself I mustn’t let my weakness to affect the morale of the bedridden ones. I forced out a smile, but the events happened each day tattered my spirit..kept it hard for me to sustain my faith..my hope..
A little girl was admitted there, she looked so young and innocent, but she would always carried a smile on her angelic face..I didn’t ask her why, but I guessed she didn’t want her parents to worry about her. Occasionally, I would faintly hear her telling her parents to go back home to rest. She would read books when she was alone..she couldn’t walk..cos one of her legs had been amputated…she wore a hat every time..to cover her barded head..
One night, I heard a lady talking to her husband over the telephone...but soon she yelled and hung up the phone..and cried uncontrollably.. I walked to her to console her..she told me how agony she felt to see her husband having to work three part-time jobs to maintain her medical fees..how he would sacrifice his sleeping time to bring her her favorite food every day..seeing him lacking of sleep and rest..looking listless each day devastated her immensely. I felt the true love they both shared..at the same time..I felt the pains for the both of them..
Some days, I heard weeping noise from the corridor outside—someone was passing away—family members giving their last words…it got my heart sunk to the lowest..my heart gone out for them.
Today I might see a familiar face looking good lying on the bed; the next day the color of the face might turn pale in deep sleep; and another day came, it was no longer the similar face lying on that same bed..
Four months of seeing the cycle of life and death...made me grown up rather quickly..in a painful way..it got me stronger..I had no choice..I had to be strong..
Now, I need Hope, SO MUCH, SO MUCH that I would wish Hope could combat my fear; Love would heal my fear; Grace would subside my fear, Prayers would destroy my fear..
I need a ray of light, a hope—all I wish.
I want him to be well and healthy. I hope much.