Just a simple guy flying somewhere away Who will follow me?
weibin_85@hotmail.com
Friday, November 18, 2005
2 Generations Ago..
My grandfather is in ICU. Today marks day number 6.
I haven't got time to contemplate the situation. Or maybe I was trying to keep it off my mind.
Received a call towards the end of my last Physics J2 tuition and Dad was on the other line.
"You finished your tuition? Grandpa's just been admitted and is in critical condition. He wishes to see you..."
Now isn't it ironic, the first thought I had was: Me? He wants to see me? Why me?
I should have thought it should have been: How is he?
My relationship with grandfather hasn't been all that rosy for the past 20 years.
He's scolded me with the Teo Chew language which I've since found harder to decipher since grandma's death in '91.
I've shown displeasure in holding up a conversation with him.
My family's living in this terrace house that lawfully belongs to him because Dad's volunteer to take care of him while most people found it inconvenient to do so. Not me. I certainly didn't.
And thus he's given a lot of, from my perspective, trouble for us. Times when he's gone bathing while leaving the stove on and all that's cook by Mum for dinner's burnt, food together with wok; times when he's locked us out from the house because he forgot we were returning from Taiwan and had reminded him not to double lock the door; times when incontinency had the better of him and left a mess for Dad to clean up.
And so the conclusion that we really did not have the ability to cope with it all. He was sent to a residence, an old folks' home. I always thought these were for people whose children didn't 'want' them anymore. As much as I disliked him, I felt a little sad for him.
One day a year later he fled the Home. We received a call from the Home. We thought it was unbelievable for him, an 'old folk' to have escaped. The whole family was shocked. We were hoping against the worst. And a few moments later he arrived back here in a taxi. Everyone thought it a relief. He was safe. I thought it was funny.
A part of me also thought that he missed home.
Last Sunday I went to the hospital and I stood over this old chap lying in bed and I felt numb. Numb not from the shock, but numb from the inability to feel anything for him. For an old man I hardly knew, barely understood. I believed I heard that he had pushed away the doctors and nurses - mumbled something about being uncomfortable. I diverted my attention to the 'life sustaining' machines. More interesting were these gadgets. I could barely feel sad. Let alone the tears I saw in his sons and daughters and some of my cousins.
The next few days saw myself in camp with many duties. On my lips my grandfather is in ICU and I'm worried about his condition. On my mind my grandfather is in ICU and I'm worried about the way I was reacting to him. In my heart I wanted to feel. Feel a feeling of genuine sadness. I wished for tears.
Today I went to the hospital and I stand over this old chap lying on bed. He had just went through 2 scans of his heart and liver. I supposed they performed endotracheal intubation and some other stuff too, for the evidence was clear and tubes protruding from his arteries and veins were obvious. He was heaving and making huge efforts to breathe. Just breathe. I thought about him. Just like how my uncles and aunties were. I also thought about something else. Something else so urgent and of prime importance I wish to discuss it soon. Not here, not on this entry. This entry's would've been used to say that I still do want to wish him well. Then again, this day's not about me.
