Hanging by a Thread

Just when you thought that things had calmed down and settled to normalcy, here we go again.

Checked-in to the hospital again.

After a few hours and while waiting for the results of another series of elaborate clinical tests, mom's breathing resumed well, much to my relief.

She was back in her hospital patient suit, lying on the hospital bed. Waiting. For what exactly? I wasn't sure.

Every hospital admission aims for discharge. I remember how I felt when I was in a patient's suit. It has the psychological effect that makes you feel worse than you really was. So, I really wanted mom to be stable for discharge soon. But some things can't be rushed, can it?

I spent my time at the hospital accompanying mom, never leaving her side. It zapped my energy. When mom was awake, I assisted her with simple limbs movements or going through object cards with her. I bought a set with English and Chinese words, they were not available in French at this part of the globe.

'Mom, as you had done exactly these things for me when I was a kid,' I thought. These moments were precious to me and I cherished them.

When mom got tired and fell asleep, that was when my head swam with unending thoughts. I will text Maya. I missed Cliff so badly when I thought of him. But I haven't got too much time to be thinking of him. And it surprised me how easily I had brushed him aside since the episode of mom's stroke begun. He will be alright, that guy. I have enough on my plate at the moment.

It was at night when the nurse came to me with the laboratory results in her hands. "Ms Faye, there is nothing critical and everything appears stable for now. As we have known previously, your mom has a weak heart. We shall monitor her over the night and if she is clinically stable, she can be discharged tomorrow morning."

The next morning, the doctor signed the discharge note and I brought mom home, after paying another bill, of course. That was definitely another pinch in the pocket. From the 2 recent hospital admissions, more than half a month of my working salary was gone. Okay... I figured if we live simply, we would still survive.

I pushed away the thought that eventually I must go back to the marketplace to bring bread back home. And that would mean hiring a caretaker in the house?

How long for a breakthrough? How long do I have to hang on? How long CAN I hang on, despite all the love I have for mom?

After two days at home, things seemingly stabilized, and I almost able to establish a new routine.

When another drama unfolds.

I needed to rush mom to the hospital yet again. Mom relapsed into a worse state of aphasia.

Again?! I looked at mom in anger, not because I was angry at her. She did not choose to be ill. I was angry with everything. Why are we not getting better? I was getting bloody tired and I was hanging by a thread, at the verge of snapping. Mom was studying my facial expression, and even as she could not move much, a tear rolled down her cheek.

This swinging pendulum of hopefulness-hopelessness, of stability-volatility, of life-death was driving me crazy. And yes, for the first time, I had come to grasp the reality of death. It could be possible that mom could not make it.

My mom was dying!

Here we go again, breathing in the ,now rathar familiar, odor of hospital disinfectant.

This was happening one too many times.

I couldn't take it much longer. I am quite tired, I had been strong for far too long.

I gazed at mom's lovely face. With my finger, I pushed aside the strand of hair that fell over her forehead.

No. I will not give up. Also for the fear that if I give up, mom would too. I can rest when the battle is over.

I will give all my strength, my time and my money if these could potentially make my mom better.

The thought of losing mom was terrifying. The doctor came and painted a realistic picture. Mom's heart was failing. The swelling in the brain appeared not to have shrunk in size. I saw the scan, the shadow still occupied almost a quarter of the brain. And the stroke. The stroke rendered her invalid.

"What are the chances, Dr...?" I asked.

"Quality of life will certainly be affected..."

"No, I mean... the prospect of life itself. Not its quality."

The Dr answered in long sentences, obviously well rehearsed from other countless encounters. But I only caught this, "... it is made complicated by the health of her heart. We never know. If it worsen, the prognosis is grave..." My mind refused to register his next words of attempted positivity.

That night, I held mom's hand. If by holding your hand I can pass some of my heartbeats to you, I will squeeze them tight and never let go.

Hang in there, mom.

You are all I ever have.

I couldn't imagine...

Flashbacks of memories returned to me. They were mostly dated way back, with very little memories built from recent years. I wished I had called you more often, visited you more often.

Oh how I hope it is not too late now.

When mom fell asleep, I momentarily slipped off my hand and my mask of bravado.

The weight of the world came crashing down on me, a wave of despair washed over me and I felt all alone again. I am so tired.

It was 11.05pm when I reached for my phone and dailed the top number from my 'frequent contact list'.

Cliff had been demoted to number 2.

"Faye... talk to me!" Maya answered before the second ring.