Around this time four years ago, my mother was in the last few weeks of her life. I remember those days clearly. I would cry myself to sleep because I couldn't take the heartache that came with it. I had to mentally prepare myself to a future without her by my side, yet, there was this voice at the back of my head telling me that I shouldn't be pessimistic about it, that I should have faith that she would win the battle just like she did when she was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 1999. My mother on the other hand was such a fighter, never once did she shed a tear despite the pain she had to go through. She told me that God was generous enough to lend her thirteen extra years to see me grow into a young lady so every single day was a bonus for her.
Only a selected few people knew about her illness when it recurred in June 2012. It was my mother's request not to tell anyone as she didn't have the energy to entertain guests at home. We could no longer keep it under the covers when we were unable to travel down to JB for Hari Raya Puasa celebrations in late August so we had to inform our family that Mum went for an operation (no mention of the big C). We were blessed to have close family and relatives who came to visit us throughout the month of Aidilfitri as they were worried about her condition. Mum was her usual self ; ever so jovial and concerned of others that there was barely any mention of her sickness.
As chemotherapy was not an option, we opted for alternative treatments however the cancer was too aggressive and in a matter of four to five months, she was skin and bones due to her inability to consume solid food. Having to travel to these healing centres for treatment left her exhausted and debilitated. She didn't allow me to take any photographs of her saying "wait until I'm better...we'd take all the photos we want in the world".
I considered deferring my semester so I could spend more time with her but she wasn't supportive of the idea so I juggled studies, caring for her and trying my best to accompany her to the hospital whenever my schedule permits. I remember this particular day when she went in for a nephrostomy procedure where the doctors inserted a stent into her kidneys so that the tubes drain the urine into a bag (we called it her "Gucci and Chanel" bags) as she had ascites (fluid retention in the abdominal area). I had a class I could not miss, F7 Financial Reporting to be exact. I cried silently while holding on to my phone in the lecture theatre while listening to Ms Santha explaining about an IAS for three freaking hours! Gosh what was I thinking? Should have just skipped the class. Right after the class ended, I ran to the foyer waiting for dad to pick me up and head to the hospital. I was relieved of all that anxiety upon entering the room and seeing Mum smile and say "do you like my new bags?".
To be continued.... *too much tears just recalling those days*
Note : I contemplated on writing this post for some time now, reason being I didn't want people to think that I'm not over my mother's death and that I'm living in the past but then I thought of every single family member of a cancer patient out there who might need to read about my experience and know that they're not alone in this journey of providing care and support for their loved ones. Feel free to email me if you'd like to share your stories. Sending love and support to you.
Note : I contemplated on writing this post for some time now, reason being I didn't want people to think that I'm not over my mother's death and that I'm living in the past but then I thought of every single family member of a cancer patient out there who might need to read about my experience and know that they're not alone in this journey of providing care and support for their loved ones. Feel free to email me if you'd like to share your stories. Sending love and support to you.
