Life Before Death

Brought over from my now defunct blog.
It has been so long since I last wrote this, but I still tear whenever I read back.

Written sometime in 2006... a form of outlet for my emotions during the days I  struggled to go through.
 
This is about my painful experience when I lost my Dad to Leukaemia in May this year. During which, in those trying times, I was not aware to look out for any palliative care or support until his last days. All I could manage was to take each uncertain day one day at a time. At times, the day would pass by all too soon, while other days crawled slowly by. Everything I did was based on ‘survival’ instincts to somehow, forge forward and attempt to constantly remain afloat in the midst of hopelessness.

Life before death is a hard and downhill journey that all of us need to experience before reaching that final unknown destination. It is often filled with fear and uncertainty. But to be beside your loved ones, accompanying and watching them during their last lap of life before death is also not an easy passage to take. It is a painful process, filled with feelings of sorrow and despair.

My Dad fought valiantly like a brave soldier throughout the three years since he was diagnosed with Leukaemia. And while times definitely had also not been easy for me, I am proud to have fought by him in that battle, to be beside him throughout.

From the very beginning when the bombshell was dropped on to us, to the final goodbye, I was content to just have Dad by my side and thankful for each ‘extra’ moment of time allotted to his life. For those three years, life was difficult for every one of us - my Mom, younger sis, my husband, myself and even his brothers and sisters. Sacrifices were made and we were often struggling to swim against the currents of despair and hopelessness.

In the beginning, I was devastated. My whole world, previously a safe cocoon, was now falling apart. Right from the beginning, I believed that Leukaemia did not, and could not be cured. I cried every night before I went to bed, and every morning when I woke up. However, after a few long weeks, things started to calm down. Although the situation was already spinning out of my hands, I had to fall into the steps and directions the hospital gave. Watching tubes and needles inserted into him, hearing him cry out in pain whenever he had to go through the painful process of bone marrow aspirations - all these tore out my heart. But all I could do was to stand bravely in silence behind the curtains, in hope of soothing him with the knowledge that I was just beside him, and to greet him with the brightest smile I could muster when the ‘ordeal’ was over.

For a short while, I was in denial.
Hoping against hope, that maybe the diagnosis was a mistake.
Maybe he stepped on something ‘dirty’.
Maybe if I went to sleep now and wake up tomorrow, everything would have been just a bad dream.

But the reality is that the situation would never change. The diagnosis was as real and as correct as the fevers and diarrhoeas that took turns to wrack his body. The talisman water that he drank never made his illness disappear. And day after day I woke up, the ill sense of dread was always hanging in the air, and the nightmare never ended. And many days after that, life seemed like a roller coaster ride of emotions - of fear and sorrow and despair, all tumbling in my heart and mind. An immense amount of emotions where I kept fiercely guarded and locked up in my heart, emptying in tears only in the private confines of the toilet cubicle.

Before, Leukaemia was something distant and far away. Something that seemed to only happened to other people. It was only a sickness that I read about on magazines and in the papers. I never imagined it would strike so near home one day.

I remember that day distinctly when the Doctor announced the grim news to my Dad and I. I remember running to the toilet and locking myself in the cubicle, crying the whole afternoon away till my eyes were red and sore. I can only guess my Dad wept on his hospital bed - the bed that he would eventually spend almost half of his remaining days on. It must have been hours when I emerged from the toilet for the sky had already turned dark, as dark as my emotions swirling around in the bottomless pit of despair.

Gradually, reality was reluctantly allowed to sink back into my life. In acceptance, I turned to the Gods for help. Fervently, I visited temples and gave more generous donations praying that the Gods would help cure my Dad and allow him to safely live past this ‘hurdle’, even bargaining for a longer life span if his life was due, in exchange for a few years out of mine.

And for awhile, it seemed to work. For a few good months out of all his suffering, Dad seemed fine and healthy, although often looking pale and emaciated. The dreadful sickness had reduced him to a mere wisp of a shadow of his past. But as long as he was happy and not in any pain, so was I. No matter that by now, all my free time were dedicated to him and he was number One on my priority list. For those times, I was always by his side, accompanying him for checkups, bringing him out, even just sitting silently beside him at home, watching him watch tv. I took pleasure in the simple fact that every moment spent with him was every moment extra. And I cherished every precious second with him.

Temporarily, life seemed almost calm and predictable, and within my grasp of control.

However, in the midst of all the gloominess, there was to be an upcoming joyous occasion – My Wedding. While preparing for my wedding and worrying about the usual of tripping over my gowns and ruined make up etc, I was all the more worried about my Dad’s health and his condition. Thankfully, that day went along well. Dad wore a suit and tie, and Mom wore a cheongsam. My close friends later told me how Dad beamed on that day like a proud father that he was. I wished time could stand still on that special moment where everything and everyone was happy and healthy. To me, my wedding seemed to be the last happy occasion my family would experience together.

Time flew all too soon for a man who was to go sooner than expected. In the three years that I was caring for my Dad in all the ways that I could, I did not regret one single moment. If any of my sacrifices made him feel better in any way, I was grateful to be given the chance to ease his suffering. And I’d like to think that along the way I did something right. That I had somehow, touched the Gods to grace him another year with us.

Exactly one year after my Wedding day, Dad passed away.

Try as I might, I cannot forget the look his face had on when he was gasping for air and the vacuous expression his eyes had taken on, oblivious to all our callings and shouting out to him. Even though we knew that bringing him home against the Doctor’s wishes meant him dying at home, nothing could prepare us when that moment came.

Dad had wished us to bring him home where he could feel more comfortable and we respected his wishes. One day after we brought him home, a doctor and a nurse from the hospice came to check on him and counsel us, ‘teaching’ us to be calm and to expect what was happening, signs to spot in his last hours and how to position his hands when he finally died. However, nothing could prepare me for THE moment, where my saneness was pushed to the brink, hovering between instincts and instructions. I finally gave in to instincts, and dialled 911. The ambulance arrived shortly and brought him to the hospital where he gasped his final last breadth, and left us to the sound of the beeping flat line on the heart monitor.

It’s been a few months since his passing, and although I am slowly coming to terms with the loss of him, it doesn’t lessen the pain of the knowledge that he cannot be around me to share my joys and continue being a part of my life anymore. Time, although a wonderful healer, is also a very slow worker, mending the wound in my heart bit by bit, day by day.

Looking back, sometimes I wish I didn’t know Dad so much.
So that I wouldn’t love him so much.
So that I won’t hurt so much now.

But I know that I would have lost much more should I not have known him. I do not regret all that I have done and I am glad that I had done all I could to ease him. I hope that he would be proud of me as his daughter, just as I was proud to have him as my Dad.

At the same time, I know I should be thankful that Dad spent his last few months able- bodied and independent. That he could spend his last days going to places that he wanted to go, looking up old friends and doing things that he wanted to do. In the short time that was allotted to him, at least he had the chance to say his goodbyes in his own ways.

After Dad passed on, I poured out my frustrations and sadness in writings of him and of how I felt. It was a way for me to release the overwhelming emotions that I kept bottled up. In trying to act as the strong eldest daughter, I often had to act cheerful in front of my Dad when he was alive, and for my Mom and sister after the painful loss of a husband and father.

I was also very afraid that I would one day forget all about this man whom I had loved and cared so much for. In writing vividly about the moments with Dad, I hoped that I will be able to recapture the memories as vividly whenever I read back. For that few seconds, I can be transported back to the time when I still have Dad alive and with me. Many times when I miss him, I would read my articles over and over again, and I would remember Dad. His face, his toothless smile, the wrinkles around his eyes, his leathery skin and how it felt to hold his hand.

And I would weep and smile at the same time because it would remind me the bitter sweet experience we went through together, and I am comforted to know that at least during this lifetime, I had been given this affinity to be born to him, learn from him, and in his time of need, able to care for him. I am forever honoured to have him for my Dad.

Life before death may be a difficult journey, but Life after death is as equally a painful process of healing and acceptance.

I only hope that if there ever is a life after death, I wish him a life full of happiness and contentedness, without having to go through the pain and sorrow of his previous one.