This day in "my" history, my family suffered a great loss. My maternal grandmother, whom we fondly call Ima (capampangan for mother), succumbed to complications brought about by the condition diverticulitis or ruptured diverticulum, check out full text on http://www.merck.com/mmhe/sec09/ch128/ch128c.html.
She would complain about having persistent abdominal pains. The doctors initially diagnosed it to be Urinary Tract Infection (UTI), but even after medication the pain still won’t go away. They brought her to another hospital where she had an ultrasound. The OB-Gyn saw a small crescent-like image pushing on her uterus. Since she really won’t be using her uterus anymore, they decided to have it operated on. When they did, they saw the crescent-like thing was in fact solidified feces and puss from her ruptured diverticulum. They immediately decided to cut that portion of the colon and attached a colostomy bag. My lola had never been hospitalized before, not ever. So it must have been really scary for her. She wanted the bag removed the soonest possible time. With the doctors' go signal she underwent another surgery for the removal of the bag. But when they tried to sew the colon back together, it started to have perforations and leakages. And all attempts made to put them back together turned futile.
Being a lola and lolo’s girl, I was very spoiled by them. When we were kids, she’d cook all my favorites every time we’d visit her, and I can have any toy I want. A sleepover at their place was something I would really look forward to. When my parents decided to part ways, I initially stayed with my uncle and aunt, but I moved to my grandparents’ place when I started university until I got married. She would prepare my baon (lunch) to bring to work and it’s always yummy. I would even discuss my love life with my grandparents…over a game of tong-its (local version of gin rummy). She’s always been so supportive. I remember when I was job hunting, she’d get very excited when she’d tell me that a company or a headhunter called. She has always been proud of her kids and grandchildren.
It was the greatest loss I have ever experienced so far. It’s like a part of my heart, my entire being had been chunked off. She was 78 years old; some of you might be thinking hey she’s already had a full life at 78. That maybe true, but not for me, not for a loved one. When you love someone, you’d want to hold on as long as you can possibly could. That’s the first time I have gone through all the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It’s like I could not believe it was happening. I’ve seen it several times, yes, terminal illness or death of a friend’s loved one or even that of a relative, but it was the first time for me, as an adult, to face something like that and I could not believe it happening to my lola. Why her? She’s always been a good, generous and loving person. Oh, my… I am actually crying while writing this. Why not the scums of society? Why should it happen to her? Why couldn’t the stupid doctors do anything about it? I felt rage. Then I started to bargain. Please take 10 years of my life, even just for a 6-year lease extension on hers. I’ll do anything, just please don’t take her away yet. It was my birthday month. Even just 3-5 years please. or 2 to 3? It was really depressing. I could not eat. I could not work. I could not sleep. My boss at that time was very understanding and gave me time off to be with her. We took shifts watching over her. But none of us would want to go home. So we ended up getting a private room for the family while she was in ICU. But seeing her suffer like that… with a surgical slice up to her chest (after 4 operations), we just had to accept that maybe like any other human being, it was her time to go. Time to do away with the tubes and morphine. But we continued to hope.
On November 28, 2004 Ima finally joined her Creator. No longer in pain. No longer suffering. It is said to be man’s ultimate reward…to finally be with God in His kingdom. It is only difficult for those who were left behind. It was never the same for me. For all of us she left behind. The wound has healed. But there’s this void inside of me, a numb feeling. Maybe it will always be there. Through time I have learned to move on and accept that it was nobody’s fault, because sometimes you blame yourself and others—like if only I had done this, if only the doctor had done that…it was her time, it is supposed to be as simple as that. The thought that she’s now in pure bliss with God gives me consolation. But there are times that I still cry for the loss of someone very dear to me. I would just say to myself that hey, she’s just on vacation, and they only have a one-way phone to heaven. I can talk to her and she can hear me, but like God’s voice I can only hear her through my heart and though other people. Every now and then I would dream about Ima, sometimes they seem oh so real, an occasional treat from God I believe.
As long as she sees us moving on, living our lives with the values we learned from her, I’m sure she is very happy. The greatest lesson I learned from her was: if it's for your family, it's always worth it. Give until it hurts. Ima, you will forever be in our hearts.
Being a lola and lolo’s girl, I was very spoiled by them. When we were kids, she’d cook all my favorites every time we’d visit her, and I can have any toy I want. A sleepover at their place was something I would really look forward to. When my parents decided to part ways, I initially stayed with my uncle and aunt, but I moved to my grandparents’ place when I started university until I got married. She would prepare my baon (lunch) to bring to work and it’s always yummy. I would even discuss my love life with my grandparents…over a game of tong-its (local version of gin rummy). She’s always been so supportive. I remember when I was job hunting, she’d get very excited when she’d tell me that a company or a headhunter called. She has always been proud of her kids and grandchildren.
It was the greatest loss I have ever experienced so far. It’s like a part of my heart, my entire being had been chunked off. She was 78 years old; some of you might be thinking hey she’s already had a full life at 78. That maybe true, but not for me, not for a loved one. When you love someone, you’d want to hold on as long as you can possibly could. That’s the first time I have gone through all the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It’s like I could not believe it was happening. I’ve seen it several times, yes, terminal illness or death of a friend’s loved one or even that of a relative, but it was the first time for me, as an adult, to face something like that and I could not believe it happening to my lola. Why her? She’s always been a good, generous and loving person. Oh, my… I am actually crying while writing this. Why not the scums of society? Why should it happen to her? Why couldn’t the stupid doctors do anything about it? I felt rage. Then I started to bargain. Please take 10 years of my life, even just for a 6-year lease extension on hers. I’ll do anything, just please don’t take her away yet. It was my birthday month. Even just 3-5 years please. or 2 to 3? It was really depressing. I could not eat. I could not work. I could not sleep. My boss at that time was very understanding and gave me time off to be with her. We took shifts watching over her. But none of us would want to go home. So we ended up getting a private room for the family while she was in ICU. But seeing her suffer like that… with a surgical slice up to her chest (after 4 operations), we just had to accept that maybe like any other human being, it was her time to go. Time to do away with the tubes and morphine. But we continued to hope.
On November 28, 2004 Ima finally joined her Creator. No longer in pain. No longer suffering. It is said to be man’s ultimate reward…to finally be with God in His kingdom. It is only difficult for those who were left behind. It was never the same for me. For all of us she left behind. The wound has healed. But there’s this void inside of me, a numb feeling. Maybe it will always be there. Through time I have learned to move on and accept that it was nobody’s fault, because sometimes you blame yourself and others—like if only I had done this, if only the doctor had done that…it was her time, it is supposed to be as simple as that. The thought that she’s now in pure bliss with God gives me consolation. But there are times that I still cry for the loss of someone very dear to me. I would just say to myself that hey, she’s just on vacation, and they only have a one-way phone to heaven. I can talk to her and she can hear me, but like God’s voice I can only hear her through my heart and though other people. Every now and then I would dream about Ima, sometimes they seem oh so real, an occasional treat from God I believe.
As long as she sees us moving on, living our lives with the values we learned from her, I’m sure she is very happy. The greatest lesson I learned from her was: if it's for your family, it's always worth it. Give until it hurts. Ima, you will forever be in our hearts.
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