SNIGDHA AGRAWAL

Drama Tragedy

4  

SNIGDHA AGRAWAL

Drama Tragedy

DREADED PHONE CALL

DREADED PHONE CALL

3 mins
415


In the blink of an eyelid, everything changed with that phone call on 3rd August 2003. I was pleading with God to make a quick decision. "Please bring her back whole, and if you think her time is up, take her up quickly, but please let her not suffer the physical and mental agonies". God made the phone ring. The voice on the other end softly broke the news "I am sorry to let you know, she passed away peacefully today at 3 pm." There was a mixture of shock and relief. The shock altered my well-being. Being a stable person made me a wreck, riddled with self-doubt. What made me trade with God for a life that was dearest to me? I could have just prayed for her to return fully recovered. Was I afraid of my inability to deal with the new 'She', bedridden, eyes vacant, suffering from memory lapses, and inability to communicate her pain or needs? Would that have diminished my love for her?


In defense I argued with myself but how could I have given her the right treatment at home? She had developed bed sores, was being fed through nasal tubes, was unable to swallow, catheter running down her legs to empty her nonfunctioning kidneys, and groaning with pain. The doctors put the cards on the table. You can keep her at home, but nursing alone will not help her, without the equipment necessary to pump her lungs of the phlegm accumulation, wash her mouth, and get the tubes changed frequently. All that could only be available at the hospice. So, the decision was on me to see her die in pain or have her admitted and comfort myself she would receive the required treatment and thereby prolong her life for maybe a few more years. I was upbeat after seeing the hospice and satisfying myself that she would be more comfortable under medical supervision, which was not possible in a home environment.


The agonies as I surmised multiplied with shifting her to the hospice when she had lost her mind with dementia setting in. In an unknown environment, amongst unknown faces was she happy? I kept asking myself. I could have stayed with her in the hospice, and held on to her to let her know I was there for her. But I didn't. I let my family commitments take sway over my commitment to taking care of my mother till her last breath. A difficult decision and one that I continue to regret. Would my presence in the hospice have made a difference, is what plagues me to date, more than nineteen years after her passing? She was next to Goddess in her stature in our household and how could I have just written her off as dead, even before she died?! 



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