How I Accompanied My Dad Until His Last Breath (Part 2 of 3)

Mid-way through my event, I made the decision to leave earlier. It was torturous. My company was not that smart anyway (more of "How Not To Operate A Company" at a later date).

Since I typed this part of this entry more than 3 months after his death, my memory of the hospital visit was fuzzy.

So anyway, I guess I went to the hospital to visit my dad, in hopes that he will wake up soon.

Over the course of the hospital stay, my family discussed which option should we take.

My stand was to give him one more chance to fight for his life. So means, just one more surgery if needed. After that, let nature take its course. We cannot keep allowing him to feel so much pain and fight God when it was his time to go.

Yes. We were slowly accepting a little part of reality that he may move on. But, we still have hopes that he will wake up.

Day in day out, relatives and friends came to visit him.

We talked to him in hopes that he could listen to us. We embrace his hands and arms, to tell him that his family and friends are there with him.

Halfway through in some parts, the doctor said that he was no longer on the sleep medicine. He may or may not wake up. Now it is all depending on himself. However, the doctor said it is highly unlikely he will wake up because of the core brain started to be filled with blood leakage.

Yes. Before we could tell the doctor of our decision, the doctor mentioned to us that the blood leaked to the other part of his brain and there is no way to stop the bleeding. They could not remove the clot as it will promote more bleeding. The insulin he had for his diabetes, made his blood thinner. Which means, the blood just keep bleeding non stop. FUCK.

Also, his toe infection may already have infected his blood stream.

"He is a very sick man."

That's what the doctor said. Exactly word by word.

All the doctors seemed extremely pessimistic about his condition.

"We could no longer do anything to help him. No amount of surgeries could save him."

The next day, his brain was so swollen that it shifted a little to the right. It will shift and shift until the core stem break.

Unbelievable.

The brain is such a delicate piece of a fucking toufu. Yadda yadda yadda.

We had to stay overnight at the hospital, sleeping of uncomfortable sofas then decided to go home to rest at 3am and come back the next day in the morning.

"It could be anytime soon."

That's what the doctor said.

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I did not truly know the feeling of being in extreme sadness, guilt and remorse. Throughout my father's fight for life, I truly embraced the feeling of appreciating life. Life is so precious and the fact that the brain is as delicate as a toufu, made me care more for myself.

We still continued to talk to him. To massage his arms and shoulders. Sometimes his body was warm, sometimes it was cold. He did not seem that he would wake up, but we keep asking him to wake up. I know scientifically, it was impossible. The blood damaged the central brain cells where the conscious is. But, miracle do happen, right?

His blood pressure increases and decreases. His brain pressure decreased. The morphine intake increased. We got a feeling that he was waiting for his last sibling to visit him. He was fighting and waiting for Tuesday to come, for his sister to see him for the last time.

His brothers from Malaysia even came down to visit him. I am unsure why they do not seem to want to talk much with him or even touch his hand. I told them that he can hear what we say, just speak to him for the last time, will this harm anything? No. Just speak to him.

I went out of the ICU to give them some privacy.

At some point of time, I finally decided to plan in advance for his wake. I know it was fucking bad or mean to even think about it. My family are all female. Once my two sisters break down and cry and grieve, I cannot break down together with them. Someone needs to get the paper work done. Someone needs to attend to the funeral preparation. That someone will have to be me.

So I grieve as much as I can and to better prepare myself for the worse.

My sister and I almost decided to hold a Catholic funeral for him. Something does not feel right. A relative keep mentioning that it would be good if our father can go to heaven with us. We will be together with him when our time is up. But, something still does not feel right.

My dad is very neutral when it comes to religion. He had no objection to Christianity, Taoist, Buddhist. However, over the years, he is more inclined to Buddhism. He would go to the temples and what not.

So, we decided - Buddhist funeral.

My heart ached as we came to a decision. Do we really have to go through this? To really prepare for his death? He is still breathing (though on a life support).

Once, his leg kicked. My sister got worked up and thought he was sending some signal to us that he know what is going on, that he is going to wake up. She cried. I can imagine the intense emotions she had to go through. But, I knew, it was not him doing the kick.

The doctor carefully explained that it was a spinal cord reflex and all.

That was such a terrible roller-coaster feeling, isn't it?

Thinking that your father may miraculously wake up from his slumber on the hospital bed. But, he just would not.

At the night of that Tuesday, after his sister visited him, his blood pressure decreased significantly.

How weird is this? Does this mean he was truly fighting to be alive to wait for his last sibling to visit him?

We constantly tell him stuffs like who and who is in the room to visit him. We would tell him the day, date and time. We will tell him that we are going to have dinner and will come back later.

Do you think he knows? Do you think he could have heard us and understood?

I really hope so and after this incident, I do highly believe that he could have heard us.

So his BP decreased and decreased. The doctor called us to tell us it could be anytime soon and be prepared. We just stood with him. Sobbing.

"Thank you for agreeing for him to propose to me. I am finally going to get married." I whispered to him. Well, at least let him know one of his daughters will finally be married, right? I believe he will feel at ease knowing that.

So we held him, spoke to him. At some point, his heart stopped beating. We just stood there in silence. In disbelief. Was that it? We started to cry.

Then the bloody machine began to show pulses again. Were the electronics teasing us or something?

Or was it that the guardian of death was pulling him to go with him and my father did not want to. Maybe the two of them were shuffling in the ICU or something.

We keep saying stuffs like "Rest in peace, we will take care of ourselves. We are all grown up. Rest well."

I truly believe that he was fighting. He was lost. His soul did not know where to go or something. Something felt weird. He was just at a lost!

So I prayed to God. I prayed for Him to protect his soul and guide him to wherever he ought to go.

Silence.

His heart stopped beating. The machine did not register any pulses. The line was straight. That was it. He was gone. Gone from this human world. Our father passed away in the presence of his three beloved daughters.

Thank you, God.