Living amongst the dead.

as i watched her, i felt it sinful to secretly analyse her. after all, she should never have been judged that way. although many would say she could have prevented this (doctors always blab about lifestyle changes, but in reality you can never prevent it 100%, there are many other factors that we don’t know about yet), could you seriously blame her? she had been diagnosed of rectal cancer, and after surgery and chemotherapy, she now had jaundice and ascites, which probably means she has secondary cancer to the liver.

suddenly i saw her as my mother, at 66 years of age. i did a double take, and blink a bit. a wave of nausea crept over me, and cold sweat poured from every pore on my forehead. i caught a glimpse of what it would be like in her daughter’s shoes.

a slow progression of symptoms, vague abdominal discomfort, tiredness, and occasional bleeding when motions are passed, some weight loss… "You’re probably old, Ma, don’t worry about it. it’ll be ok."

getting some medication from the GP seemed like such a simple affair. except for the waiting bit. it takes so long before you finally get the fifteen minutes of attention. but all the time waiting could never prepare you for those dreaded words.

Cancer. it doesn’t matter what the 5 year survival is, neither does it matter if the prognosis is good. such a word somehow dims the future and all possiblities of a normal life. a taboo word, the purest of forms.

after the horrendous surgery and nauseating chemo, relief seemed short-lived. the sleepless nights and midnight ice-cream binging come back with a revenge. Mom keeps itching, and she looks as if she had just taken a kunyit bath. something is not right.

as the all-too-real vision slowly fades and reality steps back in, i find myself unable to hold the tears back in. could i live through such an experience? i don’t want to find out. if it were me in that wheelchair, pulling a trigger through the base of my skull would always play in my mind. had it been my own mother, i thought in despair, would i think the same? i guess that is a harder question to deal with. it’s not the issue of looking after her and giving her the best quality of life i can. i saw the suffering in that elderly lady’s eyes. she wants to live, just not like this. how can i watch my mother suffer every day and night like this?

on the other hand, i saw someone who had hope beyond hope. she is all too aware that her patients would never get better, and that they may as well be left for the dead, yet somehow she believes every moment counts. and it’s amazing.

i always had this goal that my patients should always walk out the ward door alive and well. naturally the palliative unit sort of brought me down in the dumps, because even the patients know, their time is nearly done. but i admire the courage and dedication of Dr. Rajes who is not afraid of death, and has shown her patients that there is nothing to be scared of too.

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