Since my last post, just when I thought things could not get any worse, my dad too was admitted to the hospital. A day before, he was complaining of a headache and the next day, he woke up with a high fever. I was with mom at the hospital the entire time and when I had heard the news, I felt my heart dropped to my stomach and raised back up again. At that point, it had been three days since she was admitted. Mom was diagnosed with pneumonia influenza – possibly, one of the worst complications you could get from influenza. I had done an extensive amount of research and for that, I had earnestly thought that due to age factor, my dad could not make it. Sometimes, google is capable of shredding every bit of your confidence and strength into bits of pieces. But to think of it, if my self-diagnose from google is right, I reckon, I would have probably died from cancer by now.
I had demanded my brother to bring my dad over to the hospital but to no avail. Dad can be stubborn and headstrong but I could not take no for an answer. So I told mom that I would be right back, got into the car and drove as fast as I could back home. Dad was resting in his room and looking at him, so feeble and fragile , my heart broke. Without giving much thought, I packed his things, and dragged him to the car and off to the emergency room. Sure, he wasn’t too happy but I knew then as I know now that it was the right move. I had hoped for the blood test to turn out to be negative but unfortunately, dad was diagnosed with influenza A. And to be entirely honest with you, it felt as though my life, my happiness, gradually slipping through my fingers. It was exhausting to keep myself together when everything around me was falling apart. I had requested for dad to be on the same floor just to make my job a lot easier. I had to run from one room to another to care for both of my parents – shoving food in their face, giving them meds, making sure that they are still breathing. For almost a week, I had made the hospital my home – walking around with my hair wrapped in a towel and occasionally, I would hear a quiet murmur from the nurses’ counter; “Poor girl has to take care of both of them,” “Kesian her father is admitted too,” “Her mom’s condition has gone worse,” and I pretended that I did not hear and kept a straight face. It was truly the darkest moment of my life to face with that great of uncertainty of whether they will make it out alive, my two most important people in my life.
Fortunately, and thankfully, dad had been discharged after four days which gave me a huge relief. However, at that very moment, mom’s condition, on the other hand, had gone worse. Her infection had spread to almost her entire left lung and she was instantly transferred to the ICU. And to not be able to sleep next to her that night teared me apart. It felt as though I was stuck in this eerily dark abyss and there was simply no light that could shine through. That night, as I was driving my way back home, alone, all I could do was pray and wail uglily and hope that God would hear me. For the next few days, she was doing so much better and it felt as though God had given us another chance. I had to abide by the shitty visiting hours and had to drive back and forth every day until she was being released. After precisely a week of torment, she had fought her way through this – literally and figuratively, and today, she is finally, finally, home.
I reckon, this series of misfortunes have somehow put my faith to test. I was and will never be angry. Like many other misfortunes, I am sure, there’s a greater reason behind it that I may or may not comprehend just yet.