Three miserable hours.

IMG_3046I am writing this from the hospital room – confined in between these pink walls and diseases, on this uncomfortable sofa bed that I begin to despise next to my mother. It is a couple of hours before midnight and the lights are out, I could hear a faint sound of the nurse alarm that would go off every now and then. When the doctor had discharged my mother yesterday, I remember heaving a huge sigh of relief but this morning, I woke up to my dad telling me that we had to bring her to the emergency room.

Two days ago, during the surgery, I must say, those three hours were definitely a scare. When they had wheeled my mom out of the room, all I could say was, “Please wake up, mom” and she frailly nodded in agreement, teary-eyed. I choked my own tears back. I was well aware of the complications that might arise and that moment, like many other moments in life where I’d find myself feeling rather helpless and vulnerable, all I could do was pray to the Almighty and redha. I was with Farrace, anxiously and impatiently waiting for the surgery to end.

Two hours had gone by and I felt as though there was a huge lump growing in my chest. It was supposed to be a short one. Worse, there was an announcement being made at that precise moment – There was a code blue in the operating room and my heart dropped to my stomach and I felt sick.  I have watched enough episodes of Grey’s Anatomy to know what code blue means. It cannot be her. But what if it was her? My mind began to flood with untold thoughts. It is an old habit of mine – to conjure up the worst scenario in hopes that I could prepare myself for what is to come. It never worked. I began to think of the little bicker we had over some petty matter I could barely recall that morning; and that I should have kissed and hugged her before she left. I thought of what a nuisance it would be to call everyone in her phonebook. My heart ached but I could not cry.

As my thoughts ran wild, i was unwillingly dragged back into reality by a simple knock on the door.  I caught the sight of her, looking feeble and half awake as she was before. I hugged her and simultaneously burst into tears. I was in definite gratitude. And i thought of the family of the person who might have died that day. My heart broke. But today, here I am, finding myself at this same uncomfortable sofa bed next to her again. They say her disease is contagious and that, i shouldn’t be sleeping with her tonight but all I know is, if the table was turned, she would still be here for me too.

Get well soon mom.

Simply a girl who finds joy in writing, traveling and designing.

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