8:39PM, Dec 3, 2016.
I will always remember this day.
4 weeks before the day.
I could sense her whole condition got worse to the next level. You can see through her eyes that life was starting to fade. Even so, she insisted on having the cataract surgery and I didn't want to go against her will. The next day after the surgery, her blood test came back and after discussing with our nurse, we decided to put her on the waiting list for hospital. 2 days after this decision, the edema of her lower limbs got worse and there were fluid coming out of her feet, we checked in to ER and transfer to the ward later that day. Her symptoms went from better to worse and the other way around repeatedly, but we both knew that time had closing in on us.
The Friday before
All her friend got a message from her saying "Goodbye" with a typo, and I got a phone call from her saying she's not feeling well and needed me to go to the hospital right away. Phone call flooded in to my cell, her cell, the land line in the hospital room and even for the nurse station. When I arrived the ward, everything outside the room seems as usual, inside she sat on the side of the bed with her phone and notebook on the bed side table.
Seeing me entering the room, she lifted her head and looked at me.
"What's wrong? How are you feeling now?" I asked tentatively.
"Let me go." She said calmly. "There's too much pain."
I rushed to her side and pulled her into my arms, not being able to control myself any more.
"How can you be so cruel? Why don't you just let me go?" She sounded a little hysterical now.
I pulled back and looked at her puzzledly.
"I don't want any more treatment or medication. No more." She said it again.
I hold her tighter again. "Then you have to be brave." I whispered in her ear.
Liza, our Philipine helper helped me to put her to bed. Finally, she seemed to be calmed and settled. And now what?
Holding back my tears, I consulted the doctor about what will happen if we stopped her nutrition supply. Another deep breath, I made the call.
After composing myself, I decided to go back to office and finished off what was at hand. An hour later, Liza told me that she told the nurse that she still want her normal nutrition IV and everything was back to usual except for the fact that she could no longer getting in or out of the bed without help.
Morphine talking maybe. I felt like killed her once.
The Friday just a day before
She had trouble breathing since that morning, and we started to use oxygen tube and increased to oxygen mask with high intensity oxygen later that day. Got called back by the nurse from work saying the doctor wanted to explain something to me.
Pleural effusion. That's what it was. Water inside the lung.
With the mask on, she could barely talk. She's been in and out of consciousness quite often for the past weeks. Sometimes she's just mumbling something unintelligible. It got worse with her condition, she would try to pull the mask or cable on her, and almost yelled towards the air.
Feeling that she might have something to say, I helped her pull off the mask.
"I love you. I love you." She yelled repeatedly.
"I know. I love you too." I replied beside her ear.
"I'm a lier. I'm lier." She was almost screaming and waved her hand in the air trying to grab something.
I let her grab my hand and hold me near her, and she just kelp screaming the same words: I'm a lier.
And this was the last audible words I got from her.
I left the room very late that day, struggling maybe I should stayed or not and finally dicided to at least have some sleep for the coming day.
The day
When I arrived the room in the morning, she was asking for pain killer shots and the doctor also add some medication to try to help getting the water in her lung out, which didn't seem to work. Her body was not reacting to the medicine well and she was not reacting to me or the surroundly well either.
The oxygen in her blood kept dropping slowly throughout the day. According to the doctor, she went into shock already.
6PM. I called the funeral company for some details and started to get ready for the unavoidable. Meanwhile, the resident doctor told me that with her current situation, it would come pretty quick.
8PM. Her blood oxygen level is down to lower than 40% and the doctor and nurse was inside the room ready for the final announcement.
She was still hanging there.
"Let go." I whispered in her ear. "There's nothing you should worry about now. Just let go."
I kept repeating and she kept breathing in agony.
"Is there anything or anyone that she cannot let go of?" The doctor and nurses went back to their posts to wait.
Liza went around the bed opposite me.
"Madam said to me last night that she's very proud to have you." She finally said.
I looked up at Liza and looked down to touch her head.
"I heard you. I know. I love you." I told her. "You can let go now."
We called the doctor and nurses in and I watched the stable flat line on the machine.
Yes, I will always remember the detailed of her last days and her last words. Though I'm still having trouble to understand the second part of it. Maybe there were just too many regrets in her life, too many unspoken words between us. I'm not a very good daughter no matter in western or Chinese standard and we weren't really close, but there are relationships that don't change no matter where you are.
I love you and I'm not lying.
Hopfully it's a better world out there, at least I believe so.
