* Mommy *

Maybe I should start posting about my year. I read somewhere that everyone should start writing about wonderful things in 2020. Yes, I know, 2020 sucks, 2020 should not count as a year, etc etc. 

BUT 2020 EXISTS.

 So here goes nothing: I cannot talk about 2020 without talking about my grandmother. She started 2020, after all. 

On 16th February 2020, it was a Sunday, we were eating lunch together when I noticed her having difficulty breathing. I remembered how her chest was heaving and her abdomen was pushed down. It was going up and down, up and down. My sister sat beside her and auscultated her chest - she said she could not hear anything. So, we decided (including Dearest) to bring her straight to the hospital.

"Agong pun tak ada sampai 3 doktor bawak pergi hospital." 

Chest x-ray: Unilateral pleural effusion. Dearest tried to take an ABG. 

"Pelan-pelan ye, yang," she said. 

I texted my colleagues that I will take leave the next day. All we thought was - this was a bad ass pneumonia. Pushed up to ICU, tapped the fluid. 

"Serous fluid," Dearest informed. I went into the ICU later. Looked like hemoserous. 

"You said serous," I said, accusingly. 

He gave me the look. Still in denial, I was. I guess. Googled. Found the research regarding macroscopic appearance of pleural fluid and diagnosis. Still looking for data, still looking for concrete proof, looking for solid facts...to decide how to react, to decide what to do. The doctor in me, the MBA student in me, the me I built throughout these years after reading self-help book since possibly 13. The me in me. 

Everyone asking us, the 3 doctors, regarding her condition. Everyone trying to think about the next course of action. She looks okay now, we all thought. The worst possible diagnosis still at the back of our minds. 

A lot of people came. Some people came asking for the cold hard truth. Some people came sharing their own experience (XX dulu pun macam ni, bila dah keluar ketul-ketul tu dah tak lama la). I remember that piece of pleura. I remember that polyp or piece of tissue in the chest tube. 

The most memorable day during that first hospital stay was when my grandfather came by to the hospital. They laughed together. My greatest regret - I did not take a picture of that moment. But, honestly, I did not want to. I wanted to keep that memory in my head. Just in my head. My own personal memory. Their smiles as they see each other. The room lit up. It felt warm. Maybe this was the last time they will smile at each other. Maybe. Who knows? 

Off chest tube. "Atypical mesothelial cells". Google again. Discharged. TCA. Refer to cardiothoracicvascular surgeon. Plan for pleuroscopy and biopsy. 

Cousin's engagement. Took that picture. At first, she just wanted to hide in the room. Forced her to take pictures. 

Then. Another episode of hospital stay. Second round here we go. 

Several things happened together; MCO, clinic closed, mobile sampling, donning everyday...and driving from Pajam to APSH. 

We were in ED. Ummi bought a newspaper. The water dispenser had lemongrass-infused cold water.

 

"Cuba teka air apa ni?" Ummi asked, smiling. 

Here is the only person I cannot lie to. The only person I can always be completely honest with, without having to say a word.

There was a code blue announcement. MA drew blood using butterfly, about 30cc. 

"PT/APTT/INR ni botol apa eh?" asked the nurse. I wanted to answer. Stopped myself. 

Pushed to the echo room. "Adik, boleh tolong wasap gambar results yang sebelum ni?" Specialist asked. 

Back to ED. Mommy struggling to breathe. Not in the mood to talk. Pushed to the ward. I went back home. 

Pleuroscopy done. Biopsy done. My sister texted me. During all this, she got engaged. I made cookies. 

Mesothelioma. Most common cause: asbestos exposure. Wherever that came from. Common in rooftop of old houses. Seriously, house? She took care of you all these years and this is how you pay her? Okay. Calm down. Driving. House to hospital. Same playlist. Same songs. Every day.

"How long will I love you? As long as there are stars above you..."

Leg felt cold. Clot in the arteries.

"Of course I can do this. I am a cardiothoracicVASCULAR surgeon."

Okay. Embolectomy done.

"Actually there are more clots. I removed the biggest one."

Okay.

"Ini bukan kau masak!" She could not taste anything. My mind, during that time, trying to make sense out of that - minor stroke (embolic) in that part of the brain. 

"Jangan lah balik!" Ate chinese muslim food. Drank coffee. Took turns to go out of the room. Just us. Just like when we were kids. Staying home after school. Doing homework together on one table. Just us being sisters. Just us being silent together. Just us. 

Lots of people came, as usual. But this time no talks about their experience or whatever. 

Discharged. Chest tube in situ. Still bleeding.

From in the room to outside. From smiling when she saw you to she cannot be bothered. From leaking chest tube due to blockage (clots and tissues) to off chest tube. From eating solids to semisolids to just fluid. Finding equipment, lots of equipment; hospital bed, oxygen concentrator, ice packs, thermometer...stuff, there was always stuff to find. Everyone being there for each other. Everyone coming together.

"Kau dah makan?"

"Puasa, Mommy."

"Nasib baik la kau orang belajar doktor." But I did not want to, remember? 

24th May 2020 - 1st Syawal. I cooked rendang.

"GCS low, Neen." My sister texted me.

I arrived. She was gasping. Everyone was there. 

"Berapa lama ye kalau macam ni?"

A nudge on the shoulder. Dearest gestured me to look up. I saw her. I watched as she was going away. It's okay, we will be okay. Everyone is okay. We will take care of each other. We will always remember everything you taught us.

"Awak ada ke tadi?"

I kissed her forehead. I glanced at the clock. Reflex. But I could not remember the exact time afterwards anyway. Cried behind everyone. Wiped my tear using a toilet roll. Got conjunctivitis afterwards. Helped Abi to type out a text message.

Ambulance came. People stayed. 

Slept upstairs. Woke up. Went out to buy masks. 

Bathed her. 

Kissed her again with my mask on. Because I hated (and still very much hate) the cold. Death is so cold. Everything is cold. Nothing is warm anymore. Literally and figuratively just coldness.

Prayed.

Buried.

Back home.

Went back home. Trying to figure out how to tell the kids.

Then, grief started.

But the story of grief is for another day.

She put my henna on when I got married.

You are officially an adult when you don't have grandparents anymore, I thought.

***

Ellie Goulding - How Long Will I Love You