I still remembered vividly the day that her tumour perforated. I just got home and she was coming out from her room and I saw blood stains on her t-shirt. We rushed to the A&E and it became a ‘rush to wait’. It was awful. The aircon was too cold, jackets were never thick enough, and we had to sit and wait for hours. I can’t recall how many hours but could be 6, could be more. When she finally got a bed and was properly looked at, there were nothing much they can do. It was an open wound that they cannot close and it won’t close on its own too. Surgery was out of the picture. The only thing left was to make sure that the wound was clean and not further infected.
It was also the first time I understand the term ‘consumables’ and that they are not covered by insurance. And the costs do add up. I remembered having to buy sodium chloride solution, alcohol pads, bandage tapes, gauze, blue hospital pads, etc, frequently. There was a time when I found that they sell basic dressing kits which I bought in bulk. There were also meal replacements that I have to coax/force her to take when her appetite got so small and her weight fell too much.
There were also frustrations. So much of them. I was juggling work, caregiving and in a relationship with a person more immature than my brothers. I had to be home every day for the wound dressing. I didn’t ask my brothers because it was a breast tumour. My dad refused to learn and help out. My dad simply nagging at her all day everyday, that even i felt frustrated.
Everything was on my shoulders. There were so much to bear and I didn’t had a choice, I had no one else to ask…
Well, that was quite a trip down the memory lane. It felt good to tell Albert about it, to have typed it out. This could be the start of letting go.