<![CDATA[
<body><script type="text/javascript">
function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) {
if(window.addEventListener) {
window.addEventListener('load',
function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false);
} else {
window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; });
}
}
</script>
<div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div>
<script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script>
<script type="text/javascript">
gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() {
if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) {
gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({
url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/8340058?origin\x3dhttp://forlorncrimson.blogspot.com',
where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"),
id: "navbar-iframe"
});
}
});
</script>
]]>
my grandma's cortege
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Last Tuesday, my mother and I visited my grandmother in Bright Vision Hospital. She was critically ill with cancer, and the tumour was at her throat. The previous day, she had removed the drip, her only means of temporary survival, from her hand and became unconscious for a while. My relatives who were present were so shocked and they thought they had lost her. Fortunately, the doctor arrived in time and replaced the drip, saving her fragile soul from death. In actual fact, my grandma was waiting to see her son, Uncle Randy, who was taking Wednesday's afternoon flight to see her for the last time. As I mentally prepared myself to enter the ward, I walked hurriedly to my grandma and called out to her. She looked up, her eyes struggling to focus. The last time I visited her in Singapore General Hospital, I thought I had entered the wrong ward and walked out. I could not recognise her at all, for she had lost so much weight, her whole body size shrunken to almost skin and bones. This year's Chinese New Year, she could only sit on the sofa while waiting for her children and grandchildren to greet her, staring blankly at the television and struggling to speak coherently. She had become skinnier, and had no energy to move from where she was seated. I scrutinised every part of grandma while she lied on the hospital bed. There was a spot of blood on the white bedsheet, probably when she removed the drip needle from her hand. Everytime i saw the needle pierced into her bony hand, I felt a strong heartache. She hated the drip (I guessed it hurt a lot), but had no choice as she had no appetite for proper food and could not swallow without feeling intense pain. Her lips and mouth were filled with yellow blisters. She even had difficulty drinking from a straw. Things we did so normally like drinking through a straw was a tedious process for grandma. She did not have the strength to suck the soyabean milk, and the liquid level kept falling and rising before it succeeded in reaching her mouth. This occured several times, and I tried hard to keep my tears from falling.There she had to overcome another obstacle. Swallowing. She squinted her eyes so tight, her face all wrinkled up, lips taut and stretched, just to swallow that little bit of soyabean milk. I knew it hurt when the ends of the straw touched her mouth, hurt even more to swallow right pass through that horrible lump. I went to the window and silently cried. As I grounded the tears from my eyes, fresh ones coursed down my cheeks. My glasses became misty, stained with pain and sympathy. As I returned to grandma's bedside, I noticed her eyes would remain open for a while then close halfway, revealing only white eyeballs, then open and close all over again. No wonder why my auntie had thought grandma 'left' yesterday. Grandma really looked like she was on the brink of death, trying hard to hold on to life. All for the sake of seeing Uncle Randy. I hoped so hard he would come back as soon as possible, please, for I was not sure how long she could hold out with that colourless liquid of glucose that hurt so much. I had to go to school and my mother had to work later in the afternoon, so we had to bid our last farewell to grandma. Before I left her bed, I looked at her for the last time; she was still trying hard to keep her eyes open, focused at whatever was in front of her. Goodbye Ah Ma, please take care of yourself. I kept erasing the image of her temples that had sunken into a skull-like shape in my nind so that I could force back the tears waiting to gush out.
it's Tuesday, March 08, 2005 now