I’m pretty sure everyone knows how this phrase ends. But
sometimes we fail to fully comprehend what it means.
For the past 6 months, my family has been going through an
emotional as well as physical roller coaster which from the looks of it will
not be subsiding any time soon. In reference to my last post, my dad
successfully underwent his bypass 2 weeks ago during ramadhan, which I can say
has been the most haywire fasting month I have undergone in my entire life. I
doubt I had a proper meal during the whole ordeal what with going back and
forth from serdang to IJN, to trying to not miss terawih until my sister
actually fell sick. She was then followed by my brother.
To be perfectly honest my dad is a restless patient. He
needs constant supervision and constant emotional support which requires our
physical presence. Even then, there is never an assurance that an emotional
tantrum will not lash out. But because that is what a sick person goes through,
you learn to be very patient. I’m sure
for those who have handled frequent hospital visits will understand. And I’m
sure emotions run high for both patient and care giver. This is not in any way
abnormal. That being what it was my dad
demanded to be released from IJN one week post operation even when we thought
it was best for him to stay a while longer. Why did we concede? Because the
doctors seemed to think that is was perfectly permissible and when a sick
person stresses themselves out, especially after a bypass, it can lead to so
many other complications.
But true enough, that very night my father suffered palpitations
with his heart rate peaking at 220. Thankfully my brother was able to bring him
straight to emergency and he was stabilized once again. My sister and I of
course made the trip home and waited till 3 am to get him into a
ward. Out from one hospital and into the next. He was finally released from the hospital the
night before raya.
And for two weeks he seemed well. Religiously taking his medication,
and kept to a strict diet that we carved out for him. It was planned that by
the end of the 2nd week of raya my family was supposed to meet up
with their bakal besan back in tanjung malim. To be on the safe side we asked
doctors if my dad was fit to travel and none had told us that he needed to stay
put. In fact his physiologist had told him to keep moving, since it was the
only way for him to regain strength. That being said we monitored him for the
whole two weeks checking his blood sugar every day, as well as his blood
pressure, which remained stable. We also constantly asked his condition, asking
whether he felt his body was strong enough to travel. He seemed perfectly
excited for the trip. We took precautions as to take a homestay so that they
could rest before and after the travel. And I thought everything would be going
alright.
But it seemed that our test was far from over. Later that
evening I got a call from my brother saying that my dad had suffered a 3rd
stroke right at his fiance’s house. So again, my sister and I made the drive to
slim river hospital where my dad was thankfully stabilized once again and was transferred
that night itself to HKL where again we waited out till 3 am until he was
properly warded.
I think Allah swt really loves him. 3 strokes and my dad is
still talking and able to move all his limbs. And whenever he suffers from
these strokes there are always people around to get him immediate medical attention.
I think the doctors themselves are
confused as to what is happening to him. As with vascular dementia, the strokes
are like time bombs. It seems like they come without any trigger whatsoever. My
dad suffered his third stroke in the middle of talking and laughing with his
bakal besan. He was not stressed, he was
on medication and he was not eating anything out of the ordinary. When he first came to and my brother told him
he had suffered another stroke he was exasperated and asked why? I felt so
sorry then because even I was shocked that he had a re-occurrence after all the
precautions we had taken. Amazingly
enough, during the transport of my dad to HKL from slim river the nurses had
forgotten to bring his box of medication along with him in the ambulance. Thus
the next day, my brother, sister and I made the round trip once again to
retrieve his meds. It was then my turn to get sick. And by Monday I was a
walking zombie.
It is not my intention to lament about the hurdles that me
and my family go through. It is to inform that as difficult as it is for people
who are watching, it is that much harder for those involved to cope. As much as
you can pity my dad who is constantly in and out of the hospital, imagine how
we feel when he says he is sorry for causing so much trouble, or asking if it
was his fault that he is once again laying in a hospital bed. As much as you
can get emotional, imagine how emotional we are but are not able to show it
just because we do not want him to worry. And as much as you can give advice
and say things should be done a certain way, understand that as his immediate family
members we are doing our level best to give him the care and attention that he
needs to get better. Remember that he is our dad, and we want the best for him
just as you would with your own.
This serves also as a reminder to myself to be able to put
myself in other people’s shoes. To try to understand their position first,
instead of judging them without knowing what they go though.
Berat mata memandang,
Lagi berat bahu yang memikul.
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