The absence of a post here is due to quite a couple of reasons. Procrastination as always plays its part, laziness too, amongst other stuff. But I shall pour what’s mainly on my mind out here today. Gramps was admitted to the hospital recently.
See, this time isn’t like the others. What started out from an unusually low sodium count during a check-up turned into a quick ripple effect that we’re still trying to put our minds to.
I have religiously brought him to every one of his check-ups/doctor’s appointments (till I started work.) Couldn’t they have smelt this? In a “two hands to clap” type of situation, he’s been stubborn, and always refusing to go for further scans and checks, against the doctor’s advice.
If Mohammed doesn’t go to the mountain, the mountain knocks on his door and says “what’s up?”
He went for his routine scheduled check-up at the hospital, and findings of his abnormally low sodium count had him immediately admitted. It all seems to be going downhill from there, oxygen levels fluctuating. And due to low sodium in the body, he seemed tired all the time. The first few days there saw him sleeping most of the time.
Now by then doctor’s ordered a CT scan to be done. And him being very much stubborn, it was tough getting him to agree to go for that. When he finally did, he thought it was all over and he could go home, but CT scans revealed a much larger horror. A tumour located in his lung, a big one, and it was spreading. Fast.
This explains why he’s slowly losing use of his right hand. In my heart, he’s one of the greatest artists in the world, and he can’t draw anymore. But that probably is the least of the problems. Now, following the scan, a biopsy was scheduled. And the long wait continued. I probably should mention the level of efficiency the local government hospitals have, to sum it up, if it is not deemed as something that has “hit. the. fan”, they will not make haste. It is almost as if its a mantra etched throughout the hospital. Ok this is just me being sore about it.
Now I missed out a vital piece of the story here. Doctors diagnosed him with cancer, one at a stage that has already surpassed the 4th. It was tough to swallow at first, but acceptance plays its part, for some sooner than others, and some still in their phase of denial. The decision to not let gramps know at first was a tough one to make. What was even tougher, was having to see him everyday being optimistic that he will be able to go home the next.
Biopsy a week later confirmed the disease. But at his age, any move done to fight the disease comes with major risk. Right now, the game plan would be to just suppress the symptoms and relieve pain. In short “we’re waiting it out.” Sissy teared up while visiting him then. Now i’ve always made myself the promise to break whoever’s legs if they’d ever break her heart and made her cry. Never would I have thought it’ll be in such a situation which I’ll catch her shedding a tear. Probably will have to make some amendments to the promise already then.
When the time came to finally break the news to him, it took two days, for him to hear it. When the doctors first broke the news to him. He didn’t want to have it, and started getting really agitated. Granted that, I would have too if I were in his shoes. “How is it that with such advanced medical technologies, the doctors can’t cure me” he says. Yeah i’ll give him that point.
A week ago, he started wheezing. As in a squeaking noise coming out from his throat. Now I have to add that he was being fed the whole time via a nose tube. Because of some thrombosis rubbish that makes it difficult for him to swallow anything (yes, that bitch of a tumour has spread all over.) Wasn’t till the next day we realised that the tumour has started to press on his windpipe, making it tougher to breathe. That has been persisting till now, which we all are still continually worried about. Because, if that shit presses even more and blocks off the windpipe.. well yeah that just ain’t good. Most of the time now, its drip feeding.
Relatives and friends were nice enough to pop by the past few weeks. I still think he is still mentally fighting the fact this is all happening. I can imagine the fear, the sadness, the hate of looking at the same ceiling, the sound of beeping medical equipment, coughs and screams of the neighbouring patients and the barred windows. And the fact that no one can properly understand what you say because of the stupid assed condition.
Are we fighting a losing fight? Are we even fighting at all?
I’ll still visit him everyday. Be it a few hours or minutes.
I do hope he presses on.
“Cancer is beautiful because it gives loved ones time to prepare”
Fuck you cancer.