Tuesday, June 17, 2008
6th June 2008. Friday afternoon. I saw my sister break down. The disappointment and sadness was written all over her face. Her attempt to be brave was thwarted by the crack in her voice over the phone. I was shocked. She told me the signs, we anticipated the news; it was just a matter of time and professional confirmation. None of us were excited, we were worried about her health more than anything else.
My sister is far more mature than her age speaks. Having gone through a prior nightmare, she was mentally prepared, but still it hurt to know it happened again. It stung my heart so bad to merely imagine how she reacted to the news, it hurt me even further that her dreams were crushed. It hurts so bad when you are pursuing a life goal but you kinda know it won't work out it didn't work out before someone said it might not work out a second time and then another someone tells you it's not going to happen and even though you already guessed from the start you still wanna linger on to hope which is what runs life every passing day.
I was seated in the car in front of her car. She was following our car. At the traffic light, I turned to look at her. She was dabbing her eyes with tissue, staring blanking in the onward direction. I wonder how she could even bring herself to drive in a traffic jam when she didn't give herself some time to cool down after coming back from the hospital. I looked at Boo. He looked at me, then looked down at the handbrake. He had seen her crying through his rear mirror. When the car started to move, I focused on the passing landscape, streams of green and brown, all merging oddly towards a downward direction. My lips started to part. At first I thought I could wipe them all away with my bare hands, but I couldn't deal with it. Boo took my right hand and squeezed it gently. He didn't say anything.
When we stopped at the petrol station, I got out of Boo's car and went into her vehicle. Boo accompanied her to pay the bill at the cashier. I didn't go. I sat in the passenger seat, in the stuffy vehicle with the engine turned off, trying to compose myself to look at my sister calmly when she walked out of the kiosk.
I stroked her brown curly hair, trying to find the right words to say. She stepped on the accelerator and drove smoothly. During the journey, she kept dabbing her eyes with tissue. Her cheeks were flushed and her hands were streaked with tear stains. I looked away to the window, seeing the colours outside whirling in a weird pattern again. I couldn't open my mouth to say anything. What could I say? Nothing will make her feel better, absolutely nothing. You can't say stuff like "you can try again" or "cheer up" because this doesn't happen every other day. At the red lights or short pauses on the highway, she would cry again softly. I stroked her hair continuously, and finally managed a whimpery "Don't be sad, we're all here for you, we're gonna...". I couldn't bring myself to articulate the last few words because I was already struggling with the lump in my throat.
She told me, "I tell myself, it's just another one. I have to go through this entire vicious cycle again."
The beginning of the following week, I took care of her at the hospital. Just when I thought she was going to come out of the operation, the doctor called for my brother-in-law. Bad news, Boo and I looked at each other. So it really was. We followed the nurses as they pushed her out of the operating theatre into her ward. She looked so frail, so pale like all blood has been drained from her body. Her eyes were moist and tears kept rolling out from the side, seeping into the pillow her head lay on. I dried her eyes, but I was holding back my tears as well. I stroked her forehead, reminding her that it was over, she just needed to focus on recovering. There were tubes sticking out everywhere under her blanket. I was so heartbroken to see her lying in pain. All those blood lost during the surgery, all the tears cried gone to Heaven, but the physical and emotional pain here to stay for a long long time.
There was a bottle attached to her puncture wound to suck excess blood from the operation. It was filled with quite an amount of blood. I wasn't scared because I saw Mummy with one before. Mummy didn't have so much excess blood, but Mummy had to carry the bottle with her for a few days everywhere she went. It was so inconvenient, and it tremendously brought about the feeling of pain.
My sister asked her husband a lot of questions, most of which he couldn't answer. Because he wasn't the doctor. After the doctor spoke to us, my bro-in-law conveyed what was said to my sister. The first thing she said was, "Oh my God." She lifted her weak hands to cover her chapped lips, dived deeper into the pillow's embrace, and I saw tears flowing on her cheeks again.
It's such a tragedy. "God gave women two chances: A left and a right. But now, he took them both away from me". I tried to laugh it off, saying there could be other ways and what's important is to recuperate now. Deep inside, I agreed with what she said. God took away so much from her. I don't know what to believe in anymore. I'm in no position to judge what is right and what is wrong because all of us are sinners in the eyes of the Great Father, but because I have fallen so much I believe these are not trials and tribulations I believe not all things happen for a reason I start to question my own sins I lost more faith in life I don't think God is trying to bless my sister and her new family. I don't want to ask God because he never give me answers maybe I never prayed hard enough never believed hard enough never had enough faith never had enough patience. If there's only one thing to give thanks, it is that my sister survived from the operation and return to us safe and sound. Thank you Lord, for taking away two lives and giving back one to us, I don't care about that two for now, thank you for letting me take care of my sister that's all I don't want to figure out why you had to plan all of these. I don't want.
My sister couldn't even sit up in her bed. It was so much worse than the previous time. Every movement produced an excruciating pain to her puncture wounds, and the tubes weren't making it better. I wasn't even confident of helping her to the bathroom initially. The best I could do was to hold her chemical drip and blood bottle whenever she needed to move around. Looking at the rising blood level in the bottle told me of the pain. pain, it's always pain. Sharon told me she was a precious daughter at home, and this is so true. Parents don't openly show their sadness for their children, but the magnitude of their emotions are far more than what we can think of.
When I retired that night, my pillow took its turn to comfort me. She must feel so upset over what happened, she must feel even more devastated about the outcome of the surgery, she must feel so hopeless about the future, and she's alone in that room, probably crying to herself and struggling to wipe her tears with the thick, hard tubes in her way.
The next day, her best friend and I coincidentally bought tulips for her, hoping it would brighten up her bed. Roy was so sweet, he came to visit too and bought cordeceps essence for her. I had lunch with him, and he was so patient listening to me yak away. My sister was in so much pain she couldn't even eat her meals without help to cut the meat or tilt the glass such that the straw remains in the water. When I got up to help her to go to the bathroom, I lifted her blanket and saw a large amount of blood stained on her dress. We were shocked. The tube to suck the excess blood had fallen out of place. Poor girl. She didn't need all this shit.
Mummy came after work and she held my sister's hand. My sister was too weak with strong painkillers running around in her bloodstream to do anything, and my mum was staring into space. I wonder what she was thinking about.
When she was discharged, I went to her house to help her bathe, help her with chores around her house, play video games with her, whatever I could do to ease her physical pain. She keeps complaining she feels useless not being able to do her daily stuff. It's only temporary, you're going to recover, but only if you stop moving around so much and avoid standing on your feet for too long. Every night I go to sleep worrying about whether she can cope with the pain of rolling to her side to get out of the bed to go to the toilet, I worry she is in too much pain and forgets to eat her medicine, I worry she's not getting enough nutrition to replenish her blood, I worry if she's doing stupid stuff like washing the clothes and putting them out to dry, I worry that she might faint in the toilet and no one would realise. She's much better now, after drinking so much herbal soup boiled by my bro-in-law, and I hope her road to recovery is not a jerky one, especially since this was a much more painful ordeal.
Ee Chow was with me and my sister all this time other than work. He told me that we would get through this together because we are one big happy family. This incident also made me realize how precious Ee Chow was to me. How many guys would spend all their free time with their gf and her sister because their gf needed to be there for her family. What kind of man would initiate buying supper at midnight for their gf's sister, what kind of man would think of places to go and activities to do to cheer their gf's sister up?
Right now I just want my sister to be well, after this incident and the last, I want to protect her and be there for her.
Being the younger one, you always had to give in to me and tolerate my wally nonsense.
I'm growing up, and I am thankful to have you to guide me in life.
Adele, I love you so much, Paps and Mum love you even more, you have us, you don't need anything more precious. Now it's my turn to do something for you and be a good sister.
My sister is far more mature than her age speaks. Having gone through a prior nightmare, she was mentally prepared, but still it hurt to know it happened again. It stung my heart so bad to merely imagine how she reacted to the news, it hurt me even further that her dreams were crushed. It hurts so bad when you are pursuing a life goal but you kinda know it won't work out it didn't work out before someone said it might not work out a second time and then another someone tells you it's not going to happen and even though you already guessed from the start you still wanna linger on to hope which is what runs life every passing day.
I was seated in the car in front of her car. She was following our car. At the traffic light, I turned to look at her. She was dabbing her eyes with tissue, staring blanking in the onward direction. I wonder how she could even bring herself to drive in a traffic jam when she didn't give herself some time to cool down after coming back from the hospital. I looked at Boo. He looked at me, then looked down at the handbrake. He had seen her crying through his rear mirror. When the car started to move, I focused on the passing landscape, streams of green and brown, all merging oddly towards a downward direction. My lips started to part. At first I thought I could wipe them all away with my bare hands, but I couldn't deal with it. Boo took my right hand and squeezed it gently. He didn't say anything.
When we stopped at the petrol station, I got out of Boo's car and went into her vehicle. Boo accompanied her to pay the bill at the cashier. I didn't go. I sat in the passenger seat, in the stuffy vehicle with the engine turned off, trying to compose myself to look at my sister calmly when she walked out of the kiosk.
I stroked her brown curly hair, trying to find the right words to say. She stepped on the accelerator and drove smoothly. During the journey, she kept dabbing her eyes with tissue. Her cheeks were flushed and her hands were streaked with tear stains. I looked away to the window, seeing the colours outside whirling in a weird pattern again. I couldn't open my mouth to say anything. What could I say? Nothing will make her feel better, absolutely nothing. You can't say stuff like "you can try again" or "cheer up" because this doesn't happen every other day. At the red lights or short pauses on the highway, she would cry again softly. I stroked her hair continuously, and finally managed a whimpery "Don't be sad, we're all here for you, we're gonna...". I couldn't bring myself to articulate the last few words because I was already struggling with the lump in my throat.
She told me, "I tell myself, it's just another one. I have to go through this entire vicious cycle again."
The beginning of the following week, I took care of her at the hospital. Just when I thought she was going to come out of the operation, the doctor called for my brother-in-law. Bad news, Boo and I looked at each other. So it really was. We followed the nurses as they pushed her out of the operating theatre into her ward. She looked so frail, so pale like all blood has been drained from her body. Her eyes were moist and tears kept rolling out from the side, seeping into the pillow her head lay on. I dried her eyes, but I was holding back my tears as well. I stroked her forehead, reminding her that it was over, she just needed to focus on recovering. There were tubes sticking out everywhere under her blanket. I was so heartbroken to see her lying in pain. All those blood lost during the surgery, all the tears cried gone to Heaven, but the physical and emotional pain here to stay for a long long time.
There was a bottle attached to her puncture wound to suck excess blood from the operation. It was filled with quite an amount of blood. I wasn't scared because I saw Mummy with one before. Mummy didn't have so much excess blood, but Mummy had to carry the bottle with her for a few days everywhere she went. It was so inconvenient, and it tremendously brought about the feeling of pain.
My sister asked her husband a lot of questions, most of which he couldn't answer. Because he wasn't the doctor. After the doctor spoke to us, my bro-in-law conveyed what was said to my sister. The first thing she said was, "Oh my God." She lifted her weak hands to cover her chapped lips, dived deeper into the pillow's embrace, and I saw tears flowing on her cheeks again.
It's such a tragedy. "God gave women two chances: A left and a right. But now, he took them both away from me". I tried to laugh it off, saying there could be other ways and what's important is to recuperate now. Deep inside, I agreed with what she said. God took away so much from her. I don't know what to believe in anymore. I'm in no position to judge what is right and what is wrong because all of us are sinners in the eyes of the Great Father, but because I have fallen so much I believe these are not trials and tribulations I believe not all things happen for a reason I start to question my own sins I lost more faith in life I don't think God is trying to bless my sister and her new family. I don't want to ask God because he never give me answers maybe I never prayed hard enough never believed hard enough never had enough faith never had enough patience. If there's only one thing to give thanks, it is that my sister survived from the operation and return to us safe and sound. Thank you Lord, for taking away two lives and giving back one to us, I don't care about that two for now, thank you for letting me take care of my sister that's all I don't want to figure out why you had to plan all of these. I don't want.
My sister couldn't even sit up in her bed. It was so much worse than the previous time. Every movement produced an excruciating pain to her puncture wounds, and the tubes weren't making it better. I wasn't even confident of helping her to the bathroom initially. The best I could do was to hold her chemical drip and blood bottle whenever she needed to move around. Looking at the rising blood level in the bottle told me of the pain. pain, it's always pain. Sharon told me she was a precious daughter at home, and this is so true. Parents don't openly show their sadness for their children, but the magnitude of their emotions are far more than what we can think of.
When I retired that night, my pillow took its turn to comfort me. She must feel so upset over what happened, she must feel even more devastated about the outcome of the surgery, she must feel so hopeless about the future, and she's alone in that room, probably crying to herself and struggling to wipe her tears with the thick, hard tubes in her way.
The next day, her best friend and I coincidentally bought tulips for her, hoping it would brighten up her bed. Roy was so sweet, he came to visit too and bought cordeceps essence for her. I had lunch with him, and he was so patient listening to me yak away. My sister was in so much pain she couldn't even eat her meals without help to cut the meat or tilt the glass such that the straw remains in the water. When I got up to help her to go to the bathroom, I lifted her blanket and saw a large amount of blood stained on her dress. We were shocked. The tube to suck the excess blood had fallen out of place. Poor girl. She didn't need all this shit.
Mummy came after work and she held my sister's hand. My sister was too weak with strong painkillers running around in her bloodstream to do anything, and my mum was staring into space. I wonder what she was thinking about.
When she was discharged, I went to her house to help her bathe, help her with chores around her house, play video games with her, whatever I could do to ease her physical pain. She keeps complaining she feels useless not being able to do her daily stuff. It's only temporary, you're going to recover, but only if you stop moving around so much and avoid standing on your feet for too long. Every night I go to sleep worrying about whether she can cope with the pain of rolling to her side to get out of the bed to go to the toilet, I worry she is in too much pain and forgets to eat her medicine, I worry she's not getting enough nutrition to replenish her blood, I worry if she's doing stupid stuff like washing the clothes and putting them out to dry, I worry that she might faint in the toilet and no one would realise. She's much better now, after drinking so much herbal soup boiled by my bro-in-law, and I hope her road to recovery is not a jerky one, especially since this was a much more painful ordeal.
Ee Chow was with me and my sister all this time other than work. He told me that we would get through this together because we are one big happy family. This incident also made me realize how precious Ee Chow was to me. How many guys would spend all their free time with their gf and her sister because their gf needed to be there for her family. What kind of man would initiate buying supper at midnight for their gf's sister, what kind of man would think of places to go and activities to do to cheer their gf's sister up?
I've become so much closer to my sister than ever before, my relationship with my parents are more or less the same, though I suspect my mother actually identifies the problems I will run into even before I say anything which I usually don't, not to her anyway. In the past, I always put my friends and boyfriend priority before my family, and my sister has been lashing at me because she think it's unfilial and selfish. I'm the exact opposite right now.
Not through her coercion or whatsoever, but through growing up and seeing how precious life is. Truth is, I am also shocked at how much I've grown. I was such a brat last time. I made stupid decisions and this pain will be with me forever as long as I live.
Not through her coercion or whatsoever, but through growing up and seeing how precious life is. Truth is, I am also shocked at how much I've grown. I was such a brat last time. I made stupid decisions and this pain will be with me forever as long as I live.
Right now I just want my sister to be well, after this incident and the last, I want to protect her and be there for her.
Being the younger one, you always had to give in to me and tolerate my wally nonsense.
I'm growing up, and I am thankful to have you to guide me in life.
Adele, I love you so much, Paps and Mum love you even more, you have us, you don't need anything more precious. Now it's my turn to do something for you and be a good sister.
