I lost the most important person in my life this year. The events leading up to her more-or-less-expected, but much-too-soon demise, were stressful, heart-wrenching and at best true tests to my faith. I have been reminded by families and friends that at least we were given due 'warning' and opportunities to spend time with her during her last days.
So I left my job and my husband in Auckland to be with my mother. Doctors predicted 3 to 6 months for her, but God gave us 6 weeks. During that 6 weeks, I learned a second set of skills - nursing care. I learned how to turn a bedridden patient, be aware of signs of (even the slightest) pain, lift a weak person up from bed and onto a wheelchair, handle and drive a hospital bed, dress wounds, sponge, and do this all without showing signs of despair. Without sounding too boastful, my cousin once commented how strong I was to do the things I do and still put a smile on my face for Mak's visitors. What people don't know is how difficult it was to face the reality, and how stressful it was to resist external pressures that I know are all done with good intentions for what is best for us. My family has been amazing in supporting us, emotionally, physically and financially, Alhamdulillah.
What I realised having just had a laparotomy surgery recently, is how uncomfortable it is to lie on a bed for a long time, how restless it is to be dependent on others on things we take for granted such as going to the toilet, having showers or simply getting up from bed, how uneasy it is to have to sit or lie down in uncomfortable positions etc. I whinged to my husband about the pain, the uneasiness, the fact that I couldn't do my routines, how I can't sit down and do my work at the desk, and I can't get out of the house for a walkabout. And, having experienced all this, I realised that arwah Mak, not once complained about pain, whined about her uneasiness, or grumbled about having forced to sit or lie down in a certain position. She didn't complain about how doctors poked her fragile hands and neck (her hand was so bloated from the drip line that doctors had to resort to put the drip line at her neck), how nurses treated her, how we forced her to eat, or to lie on her side because she had been on her back far too long, how we made her turn on her side, and her face cringed when we wanted to clean her, how we forced her to get up from bed and onto the wheelchair for some fresh air outside. She must be pretty annoyed with us asking her what she wants to eat almost every hour, yet she just said she wasn't hungry in gentle manners. So what right did I have to whine and whinge? Now that I have been in her shoes, for something not even remotely close to what she was diagnosed with, and not even near to what she had to go through, NONE AT ALL.
Not one minute goes by that I don't think about her. Al-Fatihah to Mak. I miss you.
P/S: Hope you guys didn't need a tissue :)