it was like losing a father twice, only way painful the second time.
i and my aunt reached Albay a little over 4am. it was still dark, the air was cool, but nothing compared to the coldness we were feeling inside. the fear of not knowing what to expect was worst. we headed straight to the hospital. i texted my brother for the room number to which he replied moments after. made me assume he was the one attending to Paold that night. that one last night. we found the room after a couple of questions for direction from the nurse’s station. the smell was horrid. i never liked hospitals, it was the scent that made me feel sick. as if diseases and infections were somewhere behind huge two-way doors crouching ready for an ambush. we found the right room, philhealth mixed ward RM 21032. i immediatley saw Malol through the rectangular glass integrated into the door, common to all hospitals, perhaps to keep whatever allergens in without denying one a look from the outside, or the other way around. auntie opened the door and i trailed behind. i had not seen Paold since my last visit two months before, and i could only guess what he looked like a couple of months later. i greeted Malol, my other aunt and my cousin, i was surprised my brother was not there. then there was Paold, nothing prepared me for what i saw. a man who might as easily had been a stranger, on a hospital bed with the lower half of his body covered with printed blanket. either i did not recognize him or my eyes denied what it was seeing. he was nothing close to the Paold i knew and grew up with. pronounced chin, dry dark-grayish lips, sunken cheeks, high cheek bones, skin seemingly stretched to the forehead devoid of any skin folds. whatever body fats he’d had were gone, the whole of him reduced to skin supported by internal frame with little in a way of flesh. the momentary breathing, emphasized by the regular rising and falling of his chest, was the only indication of life. or what was left of it. his breathing was aided by a four-foot oxygen tank next to the bed, and his body was sustained by whatever nutrients pumped from a dextrose straight into his left arm, veins in particular. a couple of tubes led to two catheter bags, one for urine, the other, i would learn later, for liquid discharges from his operation wounds. i could only imagine the pains he’d gone through, operations and all, before reaching the state he was in. he was asleep. more technically, in stupor–a level of consciousness just short of coma. i had rather thought he was asleep. auntie greeted Paold, like anyone would a father one had not seen for a long time. only more fervent. she lowered her head to Paold’s left ear and whispered, rather loudly, “Papa si Bhie ini, kaiba ko si Kuya,” and started caressing Paold’s forehead, his cheeks, his lips. the surpise her face registered was nothing different to mine. it was stunning. the paold i was seeing before me was something my mind refused to accept as real . but for auntie, with every loving stroke her hand made, came some sort of acceptance. just about the only thing we could do at that moment against the number of things that we, with finality, could not for Paold. i came near Paold, placed my left hand over his chest, bony chest, and like auntie, spoke close to Paold’s ear. “si Kuy ini Pa. mauli na kita?” a sad rhetoric. the sight of him was itself pounding, almost too much to bear that i’d rather see him go. one thing that was bound to happen, only too soon. a little too soon than what i was prepared for. after giving Paold a dry bath, swabbing and wiping him with a damp towel, auntie fell asleep on the bed adjacent to Paold’s. apparently due to exhaustion from the long travel. i, with no place to rest my similarly tired body on, went home–the first time with mood in gloom. i reached home rather too early that it took me quite a number of loud knocks and calls before the door opened courtesy of my younger brother obviously disturbed from his sleep. i headed straight to the kitchen, set my own breakfast and ate, all by myself. i went upstairs after, greeted my mom good morning, changed clothes and joined my brother to sleep. i woke up in the afternoon realizing it had been a long eight-hour sleep, just enough for my personal task for the night. my last personal task for Paold. i took my late lunch and immediately prepared to return to the hospital. the corridor was a maze, poorly thought off for a place where time and life was of the essence. i reached Paold’s room taking a route different than what we took earlier. the room was filled with close relatives–Malol, my brother, my cousins, my uncle, auntie was still there, some more aunties and my sister. the room was filled with chats and small talks until dusk where most of them bade Paold, unbeknownst to us all, their last farewell. the last easy goodbyes which woul be ensued later on by similar melancholic ones. my other auntie, my uncle and i stayed for the rest of the night. we spent most to the night catching up with what each had been doing over the years. exchanging stories while attending to Paold or sometimes just sitting, left with our own thoughts to ourselves. we ate dinner at the hospital, something i surprisingly adapted quickly enough. i ate pancit and puto early that morning joining Malol before i left for home. nurses would regularly barge into the room, taking Paold’s temps, checking if the drips were right, getting his BP, sometimes switching his dextrose with a smaller one, antibacterial, and would switch back to dextrose once empty. they’d also inject anti-bacterial solution into his left arm through a narrow tube branching off the main tube of his dextrose. during all these, i never saw Paold react, not even a flinch. an hour past midnight, a prescription was handed over by a nurse to my aunt, which my aunt endorsed to me right after i came back from texting outside. signal was almost nil that you had to walk a good twenty or thirty meters outside just to send a single text. i rushed to the nearest pharmacy, which was about two blocks away, and purchased the prescription. i headed back to the hospital 25 mins after and endorsed the meds to the nurses’ station. i had to sign a form too proof of what meds where checked in at what time. moments later another nurse asked me to report to the nurses’ station, which i did, and spoke to what seemed like a chief nurse or someone superior, advising me to return one of the prescriptions–an anti-bacterial vial–in exchange of, what she explained, a more essential prescription. she clarified that what i purchased, although correct was less important than the one she recently prescribed. off i went, back to the pharmacy with the new prescription, the previous prescription, the vial to be returned, a wallet and 200php change from the initial purchase. i was expecting that the price of the new prescription was close, if not slightly higher, to the first anti-bacterial med. the pharmacist announced the price of the new prescription, it was three times the price of the initial purchase, 820php and I was over 400php short. i had to take a jeep to Legazpi to withdraw and return to the pharmacy, purchase the replacement and went back to the hospital which took me over an hour. after submitting the new medicine to the nurses’ station i returned to Paold’s room. we took a nap, it was uncle’s turn to watch Paold. nothing notable happened, just the oxygen running out and the nurse had to change it. morning broke and a doctor came in and greeted Paold with some odd enthusiasm. she was asking Paold how he was, there was no response, she knocked rather hardly on Paold’s chest, one which would surely warrant a wince had it been another person, still no response. she asked me what the family had decided over an emergency dialysis for Paold. i told her there won’t be any more dialysis, it had been decided by the family after a failed attempt at Paold’s dialysis two days before. his veins, they said collapsed and the insertion of dialysis needles were no longer possible, they proposed that a new entry point be made through a major vein in his neck. after all Paold had gone through, the family decided that that was just too much, he’d suffered enough and we just couldn’t allow any more pains. the family went for conservative medication–the saddest of medical terms i had learned. the doctor then asked that one of us write and sign a letter stating that we refused the dialysis despite the doctor’s advice. i texted my mom to come over explaining that the doctor demanded that one of us immediately sign the letter. i got a reply that she was headed to the market and wouldn’t make it until over an hour. that was the weakest alibi i had received. i decided to write the letter and affix my signature. i knew, and my mother knew, that that was as good as signing Paold’s death certificate. my mom also asked that i request for “pahulyo” or the last sacrament for Paold. after signing the waiver, requesting for the last sacrament was just too much for me. it seemed like the end for all of it, the final act of surrender. the acceptance of defeat. and it really hurt having to do all of it all by myself, as if serving Charon for Paold. i was able to request for the last sacrament with the help of a nurse. they too were saddened, first when i signed the waiver, more so when i requested for the last sacrament. all of it happening one grief-stricken Sunday morning, the saddest day of my life. amidst the sadness, i received a text message from my brother reminding me to bring Paold’s ID for discounts on whatever prescriptions we ought to purchase. i mentioned the prescription i bought over the night that was worth over a thousand. my brother, a nurse, replied frantically asking what the meds was for and why it cost too much. i had no idea, i told him, and forwarded the medicine prescribed. at once my brother rushed to the hospital warning me not to purchase any prescription until he arrived. thirty minutes and two more prescriptions later he entered the room, asked for the prescriptions right away and indignantly informed me that the initial prescription was wrong, thus the request for a swap and not because the new prescription was more essential than the first one. the nurse simply made a mistake of prescribing an entirely different medicine than what she was supposed to. my brother was as surprised at the price of the recent prescription and elected to visit the pharmacy where i purchased the item from. he learned that what i was given was a branded one, not the generic. he rushed back to the hospital, asked the nurse for the medicine, explaining he’ll return it, without much in a way of conversation. i had to admit then how matured and decisive my younger brother had become. he returned to the pharmacy, requested for a return and in a very polite manner pointed out how important the medicine was to us and the number of generic meds we could have purchased for the same amount. we got a full refund, my brother, my renewed respect. i was aware of the sacrifices my brother took for Paold, he and three of my cousins–two both nursing studes–were the ones looking after paold, doing almost everything a nurse should for him, with added care and affection of course, that even the hospital nurses had nothing much left to do, except when they were not around. i also saw the respect that the other hospital nurses regarded my brother. he decided to purchase the generic meds by himself, asked me to go home and take some rest and that he’d take it from there. i was just proud of him. i came home, ate my lunch, fell asleep and woke up half-past three in the afternoon, decided to take a shower moments after. in the bathroom, a sudden attack of sorrow dawned on me, with the sprinkle of the water from the shower came an invitation to weep. to cry. as a stream of tears would definitely camouflage itself among the seemingly similar liquid state of water. a perfect excuse. cover. but i did not. i had to pull myself together, towel-dry myself, gather some strength and head out. darting towards the stairs i saw my youngest brother holding mom by the arm. she was crying. a suspended needle suddenly pierced my heart. i asked my brother “wara na si Pa?”, a nod.
i and my aunt reached Albay a little over 4am. it was still dark, the air was cool, but nothing compared to the coldness we were feeling inside. the fear of not knowing what to expect was worst. we headed straight to the hospital. i texted my brother for the room number to which he replied moments after. made me assume he was the one attending to Paold that night. that one last night. we found the room after a couple of questions for direction from the nurse’s station. the smell was horrid. i never liked hospitals, it was the scent that made me feel sick. as if diseases and infections were somewhere behind huge two-way doors crouching ready for an ambush. we found the right room, philhealth mixed ward RM 21032. i immediatley saw Malol through the rectangular glass integrated into the door, common to all hospitals, perhaps to keep whatever allergens in without denying one a look from the outside, or the other way around. auntie opened the door and i trailed behind. i had not seen Paold since my last visit two months before, and i could only guess what he looked like a couple of months later. i greeted Malol, my other aunt and my cousin, i was surprised my brother was not there. then there was Paold, nothing prepared me for what i saw. a man who might as easily had been a stranger, on a hospital bed with the lower half of his body covered with printed blanket. either i did not recognize him or my eyes denied what it was seeing. he was nothing close to the Paold i knew and grew up with. pronounced chin, dry dark-grayish lips, sunken cheeks, high cheek bones, skin seemingly stretched to the forehead devoid of any skin folds. whatever body fats he’d had were gone, the whole of him reduced to skin supported by internal frame with little in a way of flesh. the momentary breathing, emphasized by the regular rising and falling of his chest, was the only indication of life. or what was left of it. his breathing was aided by a four-foot oxygen tank next to the bed, and his body was sustained by whatever nutrients pumped from a dextrose straight into his left arm, veins in particular. a couple of tubes led to two catheter bags, one for urine, the other, i would learn later, for liquid discharges from his operation wounds. i could only imagine the pains he’d gone through, operations and all, before reaching the state he was in. he was asleep. more technically, in stupor–a level of consciousness just short of coma. i had rather thought he was asleep. auntie greeted Paold, like anyone would a father one had not seen for a long time. only more fervent. she lowered her head to Paold’s left ear and whispered, rather loudly, “Papa si Bhie ini, kaiba ko si Kuya,” and started caressing Paold’s forehead, his cheeks, his lips. the surpise her face registered was nothing different to mine. it was stunning. the paold i was seeing before me was something my mind refused to accept as real . but for auntie, with every loving stroke her hand made, came some sort of acceptance. just about the only thing we could do at that moment against the number of things that we, with finality, could not for Paold. i came near Paold, placed my left hand over his chest, bony chest, and like auntie, spoke close to Paold’s ear. “si Kuy ini Pa. mauli na kita?” a sad rhetoric. the sight of him was itself pounding, almost too much to bear that i’d rather see him go. one thing that was bound to happen, only too soon. a little too soon than what i was prepared for. after giving Paold a dry bath, swabbing and wiping him with a damp towel, auntie fell asleep on the bed adjacent to Paold’s. apparently due to exhaustion from the long travel. i, with no place to rest my similarly tired body on, went home–the first time with mood in gloom. i reached home rather too early that it took me quite a number of loud knocks and calls before the door opened courtesy of my younger brother obviously disturbed from his sleep. i headed straight to the kitchen, set my own breakfast and ate, all by myself. i went upstairs after, greeted my mom good morning, changed clothes and joined my brother to sleep. i woke up in the afternoon realizing it had been a long eight-hour sleep, just enough for my personal task for the night. my last personal task for Paold. i took my late lunch and immediately prepared to return to the hospital. the corridor was a maze, poorly thought off for a place where time and life was of the essence. i reached Paold’s room taking a route different than what we took earlier. the room was filled with close relatives–Malol, my brother, my cousins, my uncle, auntie was still there, some more aunties and my sister. the room was filled with chats and small talks until dusk where most of them bade Paold, unbeknownst to us all, their last farewell. the last easy goodbyes which woul be ensued later on by similar melancholic ones. my other auntie, my uncle and i stayed for the rest of the night. we spent most to the night catching up with what each had been doing over the years. exchanging stories while attending to Paold or sometimes just sitting, left with our own thoughts to ourselves. we ate dinner at the hospital, something i surprisingly adapted quickly enough. i ate pancit and puto early that morning joining Malol before i left for home. nurses would regularly barge into the room, taking Paold’s temps, checking if the drips were right, getting his BP, sometimes switching his dextrose with a smaller one, antibacterial, and would switch back to dextrose once empty. they’d also inject anti-bacterial solution into his left arm through a narrow tube branching off the main tube of his dextrose. during all these, i never saw Paold react, not even a flinch. an hour past midnight, a prescription was handed over by a nurse to my aunt, which my aunt endorsed to me right after i came back from texting outside. signal was almost nil that you had to walk a good twenty or thirty meters outside just to send a single text. i rushed to the nearest pharmacy, which was about two blocks away, and purchased the prescription. i headed back to the hospital 25 mins after and endorsed the meds to the nurses’ station. i had to sign a form too proof of what meds where checked in at what time. moments later another nurse asked me to report to the nurses’ station, which i did, and spoke to what seemed like a chief nurse or someone superior, advising me to return one of the prescriptions–an anti-bacterial vial–in exchange of, what she explained, a more essential prescription. she clarified that what i purchased, although correct was less important than the one she recently prescribed. off i went, back to the pharmacy with the new prescription, the previous prescription, the vial to be returned, a wallet and 200php change from the initial purchase. i was expecting that the price of the new prescription was close, if not slightly higher, to the first anti-bacterial med. the pharmacist announced the price of the new prescription, it was three times the price of the initial purchase, 820php and I was over 400php short. i had to take a jeep to Legazpi to withdraw and return to the pharmacy, purchase the replacement and went back to the hospital which took me over an hour. after submitting the new medicine to the nurses’ station i returned to Paold’s room. we took a nap, it was uncle’s turn to watch Paold. nothing notable happened, just the oxygen running out and the nurse had to change it. morning broke and a doctor came in and greeted Paold with some odd enthusiasm. she was asking Paold how he was, there was no response, she knocked rather hardly on Paold’s chest, one which would surely warrant a wince had it been another person, still no response. she asked me what the family had decided over an emergency dialysis for Paold. i told her there won’t be any more dialysis, it had been decided by the family after a failed attempt at Paold’s dialysis two days before. his veins, they said collapsed and the insertion of dialysis needles were no longer possible, they proposed that a new entry point be made through a major vein in his neck. after all Paold had gone through, the family decided that that was just too much, he’d suffered enough and we just couldn’t allow any more pains. the family went for conservative medication–the saddest of medical terms i had learned. the doctor then asked that one of us write and sign a letter stating that we refused the dialysis despite the doctor’s advice. i texted my mom to come over explaining that the doctor demanded that one of us immediately sign the letter. i got a reply that she was headed to the market and wouldn’t make it until over an hour. that was the weakest alibi i had received. i decided to write the letter and affix my signature. i knew, and my mother knew, that that was as good as signing Paold’s death certificate. my mom also asked that i request for “pahulyo” or the last sacrament for Paold. after signing the waiver, requesting for the last sacrament was just too much for me. it seemed like the end for all of it, the final act of surrender. the acceptance of defeat. and it really hurt having to do all of it all by myself, as if serving Charon for Paold. i was able to request for the last sacrament with the help of a nurse. they too were saddened, first when i signed the waiver, more so when i requested for the last sacrament. all of it happening one grief-stricken Sunday morning, the saddest day of my life. amidst the sadness, i received a text message from my brother reminding me to bring Paold’s ID for discounts on whatever prescriptions we ought to purchase. i mentioned the prescription i bought over the night that was worth over a thousand. my brother, a nurse, replied frantically asking what the meds was for and why it cost too much. i had no idea, i told him, and forwarded the medicine prescribed. at once my brother rushed to the hospital warning me not to purchase any prescription until he arrived. thirty minutes and two more prescriptions later he entered the room, asked for the prescriptions right away and indignantly informed me that the initial prescription was wrong, thus the request for a swap and not because the new prescription was more essential than the first one. the nurse simply made a mistake of prescribing an entirely different medicine than what she was supposed to. my brother was as surprised at the price of the recent prescription and elected to visit the pharmacy where i purchased the item from. he learned that what i was given was a branded one, not the generic. he rushed back to the hospital, asked the nurse for the medicine, explaining he’ll return it, without much in a way of conversation. i had to admit then how matured and decisive my younger brother had become. he returned to the pharmacy, requested for a return and in a very polite manner pointed out how important the medicine was to us and the number of generic meds we could have purchased for the same amount. we got a full refund, my brother, my renewed respect. i was aware of the sacrifices my brother took for Paold, he and three of my cousins–two both nursing studes–were the ones looking after paold, doing almost everything a nurse should for him, with added care and affection of course, that even the hospital nurses had nothing much left to do, except when they were not around. i also saw the respect that the other hospital nurses regarded my brother. he decided to purchase the generic meds by himself, asked me to go home and take some rest and that he’d take it from there. i was just proud of him. i came home, ate my lunch, fell asleep and woke up half-past three in the afternoon, decided to take a shower moments after. in the bathroom, a sudden attack of sorrow dawned on me, with the sprinkle of the water from the shower came an invitation to weep. to cry. as a stream of tears would definitely camouflage itself among the seemingly similar liquid state of water. a perfect excuse. cover. but i did not. i had to pull myself together, towel-dry myself, gather some strength and head out. darting towards the stairs i saw my youngest brother holding mom by the arm. she was crying. a suspended needle suddenly pierced my heart. i asked my brother “wara na si Pa?”, a nod.
No comments:
Post a Comment