of saying goodbye to my mother
After exactly three months from the time she got diagnosed, my ma lost her battle against the aggressive cancer. She passed away in hospital at 5.21pm yesterday. I should be glad, and I am glad, that she was surrounded by family, by my temple priests and by love, as we chanted and she took her last breath.
I woke up at 6.30am on Monday, hearing her gurgling as though she was slightly strangled of air. Told my cousin (who was doing night shift duty with me) to call the nurses, and they managed to suction out some phlegm. Her breathing then started to slow down - paced out in 10 to 15 seconds. Maybe we really are running low on nurses and doctors, but we only managed to get a doctor, my palliative care doctor, who came by at 8am to say that such breathing patterns meant only one thing: it would be a matter of a few hours before we would say goodbye.
She lasted longer than that, though we had to keep reminding her to breathe through it all. Were we keeping her back? Were we encouraging her to fight it?
The pulse rate dropped from a racing 110 in the middle of the night, to 65 in the morning, to finally, a low count of 40. Slowly, as we approached the 5pm mark, the rate dropped to 20 and we cried so hard as we realised that hey, that last breath, was her last breath.
I must be grateful that she was non-responsive for the last couple of days and there was no more pain. Wish she could've heard our thanks though. I think I've made my gratitude known to her. Gave her a kiss goodbye on her cold left cheek (from the aircon), and placed my palm on her too-skeletal chest. During the following hour waiting for the procedures to be done, I thought to myself that Life would just leave us when it has to, and all that is left is a warm body starting to turn cold. But the memories of you will never fade in the minds of your loved ones.
Goodbye Ma, awesome times we had with you. You helped me with the guys I liked, because I was too shy to approach them (and their mothers). You made the best grilled chicken wings for Teachers' Day in primary school. You taught me to be brave, even though I never could be. You supported me and gave me space to grow and never pressured me into doing anything.
Hope you're born in a really awesome family.
I woke up at 6.30am on Monday, hearing her gurgling as though she was slightly strangled of air. Told my cousin (who was doing night shift duty with me) to call the nurses, and they managed to suction out some phlegm. Her breathing then started to slow down - paced out in 10 to 15 seconds. Maybe we really are running low on nurses and doctors, but we only managed to get a doctor, my palliative care doctor, who came by at 8am to say that such breathing patterns meant only one thing: it would be a matter of a few hours before we would say goodbye.
She lasted longer than that, though we had to keep reminding her to breathe through it all. Were we keeping her back? Were we encouraging her to fight it?
The pulse rate dropped from a racing 110 in the middle of the night, to 65 in the morning, to finally, a low count of 40. Slowly, as we approached the 5pm mark, the rate dropped to 20 and we cried so hard as we realised that hey, that last breath, was her last breath.
I must be grateful that she was non-responsive for the last couple of days and there was no more pain. Wish she could've heard our thanks though. I think I've made my gratitude known to her. Gave her a kiss goodbye on her cold left cheek (from the aircon), and placed my palm on her too-skeletal chest. During the following hour waiting for the procedures to be done, I thought to myself that Life would just leave us when it has to, and all that is left is a warm body starting to turn cold. But the memories of you will never fade in the minds of your loved ones.
Goodbye Ma, awesome times we had with you. You helped me with the guys I liked, because I was too shy to approach them (and their mothers). You made the best grilled chicken wings for Teachers' Day in primary school. You taught me to be brave, even though I never could be. You supported me and gave me space to grow and never pressured me into doing anything.
Hope you're born in a really awesome family.