The Day She Left

The first time we were told to be prepared for the worst was back in June 2009. I still remember that night. I was in Sydney on a business trip. I was not feeling well and K was having a bad time as well back in Singapore. I just had a warm shower and was resting in the hotel room when my Dad called me. He sounded upset and worried and his voice broke several times. He said that Mama was in a bad shape in hospital and the doctor told us to be prepared. I was upset. I was overseas and didn’t know whether to rush back to Singapore or not. I prayed a lot that night. Thankfully, Mama pulled through.

Since that night, she had been in hospital on and off. Sometimes up to 3 or 4 times a year. There were many occasions when the doctors told us to be prepared. And there were many other occasions when the nursing home called my Dad to tell him that her oxygen levels seemed low or that she seemed to be not doing so well. In the past year, this happened even more frequently.

But each time, she ended up being okay.

She was more or less lucid and responsive up till the beginning of 2013. February or March 2013 was when she lost it completely. She could not recognise people anymore, not even my Dad or Aunt. She also stopped talking to us. She did not acknowledge us anymore and when we spoke to her, all she did was stare back at us. We did not even know if she registered anything in her brain or not. On occasions when she spoke, it was gibberish and mainly in Malay and mainly pertaining to her own dead parents. Two weeks ago, she had called for her mother to come and get her.

She went for her geriatric check-up on Wednesday 9 April 2014. The doctor told my Dad and Aunt that it would be better to ward her instead as she had low oxygen, low blood pressure and high sodium and urea content in her blood. So ward her we did.

On Thursday and even Friday afternoon, both my Dad and Aunt updated us that she seemed to be stabilising. She was fed a cocktail of drugs. More chemicals were pumped through her body through an IV drip. According to my Aunt, on Friday afternoon, when a nurse was administering something to her or adjusting a tube on her, she was still strong and feisty enough to resist and even gave the nurse a good pinch. It was not a simple pinch, it was a pinch coupled with a twist.

I had actually thought to myself that she would not be going this time round. I somehow had a feeling that she would be pulling through and would be discharged in a few days’ time.

But I was wrong. Very wrong.

At 9:45pm on Friday night, she had a seizure and her heart stopped. By 9:50pm, the nurses had called my Aunt and Dad to tell them she was in a critical state and to get immediate family members down to the hospital. By 9:55pm, my Dad had informed me and my brother. By 10:30pm, I was there at the hospital by her bedside. My Aunt was there already. Dad and Adrian arrived 5minutes later.

But it was too late. She was already long gone. The nurses and doctor had tried to resuscitate her since 9:45pm. The doctor told us that they would not be trying anymore and would put it in the records that the official time of death was 10:30pm.

When I saw her, she was still hooked up to the machines, the ventilator and the heart rate monitor. She was on artificial sustenance and her chest was still heaving up and down due to air being pumped into her lungs. She looked like she was sleeping and still breathing normally. The only thing was that her eyes were open and she looked pale.

I was tearing, Adrian was tearing. Dad and Aunt kept their composure.

I patted her silver hair. I spoke to her. I told her I loved her. I told her that she was going home to the Lord and may she rest in peace. I told her that she could now meet her two sisters and her brother and also her parents. I touched her hands. They were so so cold. Her fingers were rigid. It was less than an hour since she had gone and they had hardened already. I did not know rigor mortis sets in so fast. I touched her right cheek and her skin felt so soft. But she was cold there too. She was not stiff there yet but her face was cold and frigid. Maybe it was the aircon in the hospital. I don’t know. Maybe her warm soul had already left her body.

We waited for my other cousins to arrive and see her before the doctor removed her pacemaker. Her wishes were for her to be cremated and the pacemaker had to be taken out in case it exploded in the furnace.

It was a long wait at the hospital before all the administrative proceedings were done and before all the equipment were unhooked from her and removed from her bedside. The death certificate was issued. By then, at 1:00am, the rest had left. Only Dad, Adrian and I accompanied her in a room called the “Last Office” while we waited for the Singapore Casket people to come pick her up.

When the Singapore Casket staff arrived, Mama was wrapped up in a white cloth and placed in a cold, hard and grey metal box. It felt cold and clinical and detached. She was wheeled downstairs and we were escorted by the hospital staff through a long maze of corridors and service alleyways, following right behind her. You would not see these long corridors if you were a visitor to the hospital. These were all hidden from public view and only staff knew they existed.

When we reached the holding room next to the mortuary downstairs, she was placed on a metal table and was still covered by the white cloth. Her feet were showing though. They had been tied together with white string. Her skin looked waxy. The hospital staff asked us to verify that it was her before she could be taken away by the Singapore Casket staff. Adrian did the verification. She was then placed in the Singapore Casket van and taken away.

It felt surreal. It was 2:10am. In the dead of night, the three of us walked silently back to Adrian’s car. I decided to go back to my Dad’s place and spend the night there.

Adrian dropped us off and Dad and I spent the next 45minutes preparing her kebaya and sarong and shoes. For her to wear in her coffin.

It was 3:30am by the time I went to bed. I had been awake for 21 or 22 hours by then. I was exhausted and slept. For 3 hours.

 Dad and I woke at 6-plus. He could not sleep anymore and I somehow woke up as well even though I was still feeling quite tired. Adrian picked us up at 7:30am and we went to her nursing home to collect her belongings and clear out her cupboard.

We also wanted to collect her dentures, her spectacles and her rosary to be placed together with her in her coffin.

Dad and I broke the news to the staff nurse there. One of Mama’s neighbours kept asking me if “Auntie” was coming back and when. The staff nurse signalled to me from afar to keep the news from the rest of the old ladies. I told them that Mama was still in hospital seeing the doctor. They nodded to themselves and muttered “ok”. I think some of them knew deep down that she was already gone.