Family Blues
He hated the mornings. One reason was that he disliked getting
up early in the morning. Or worse, when he was asked when to get up in the
morning. The other was the fact that the hospital remained the busiest during
mornings. He pressed the buzzer as soon as he had the urge to pass urine but by
the time any nurse arrived and asked him what he wanted, it was already too late.
The urine had leaked through his underwear. Much worse, the entire bed sheet was
wet.
To his surprise, the nurse, frustrated that she now had to
change the entire bed linens, asked him in a tone that was a mixture of
irritation and anger-“ Why didn’t you call me earlier?”
Shocked by the question, he didn’t know what to tell. His other
problem was that English was his second language. Though he could understand
and speak simple and common words, he could not speak long sentences. He tried to
tell her that he buzzed a good fifteen minutes ago. But the nurse didn’t even
bother to listen to him completely and disappeared out of the room. She
returned a minute later with a new set of bed linens.
After that, he stopped talking to nurses altogether. He hated
being so dependent. He could do nothing on his own. He needed help for practically
everything. The only thing he could do for himself was eat. Even for that,
somebody had to set the table for him, open the meal box and spread the
serviette. The rest he could do himself. If somebody had to actually feed him,
that would have saddened him to death.
He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep. It would be few
more hours before his younger son arrived for the day. He liked when his sons were
around him. That was another reason he looked forward to the afternoons and the
evenings—either of his sons were with him during those times. The only thing he
didn’t mind about morning was the breakfast time. Not because he was hungry or
anything. But because he didn’t have to depend so much on the nurses for
feeding. Being able to feed without aid re-installed his self-respect which had
been shattered during the last few months.
He woke up to the sound of his younger son talking to one of
the nurses on the ward. He did that every morning. He kept track of his
father’s recovery with every detail from the doctors and nurses.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah for the most of the night. Couldn’t sleep in the morning.”
“Why?”
“I wet my bed.”
“Didn’t you ask for help?”
“I did. Do you think these nurses come to you immediately
when you call for help?”
“In that case, you need to wait.”
“Do you think I have control over my bladder? Now you are
talking like one of those nurses!”
The son looked away, trying to avoid further argument. He knew
that his father was frustrated at the hospital. He also knew that he, too, was frustrated
with the situation.
“Shall we go to the physiotherapy session?” the son asked.
The father nodded in agreement. If the nurses or the physios
had to transfer him from his bed to the wheel-chair, they would use the manual
hoist for the transfer. The machine would lift him from his bed while the
father would be hanging on the sling, nice and safe.
The son, however, lifted him with both his hands under his
shoulders and transferred him to the wheel-chair. It was not something recommended
by the physios at the hospital but that was exactly what his son did to
transfer him, from bed to chair and vice versa, every single time. The nurses
in the ward were aware of that but didn’t care much as he was the patient’s
son.
Since the father could not speak good English, every morning
he waited for his son to arrive to go to the physiotherapy session. One such day
when the son didn’t arrive on time, the physios took him for the session. The
father, however, could not even lift his leg despite several attempts from the
physios. Within twenty minutes, he was tired and exhausted. When the son
eventually showed up, the physios told him that they tried for the exercises
without any success.
“Do you want to try with me?” the son had asked.
“Yes, let’s try. But I am already exhausted.”
He wrapped the belt provided by the physios around his father’s
waist and asked him to hold on to the lifter while he stood on his side,
supporting him around his waist. When the son asked him to stand up, the father
stood in the first attempt without much difficulty.
“See. You can do it,” the son had said.
“But I can’t do it with the physios.”
“And why is that?” the son had asked, refusing to hide his
frustration.
“ I don’t know. With the physios, I feel like I don’t have
any energy.”
“What will you do on Tuesdays and Wednesdays when I go to
work?”
“We can do it in the evening when you come to the hospital.”
Hunched on his knees while resting his hands on his father’s
thigh, the son had looked at his father. The father was trying to smile but his
eyes were moist.
***
The father was now sitting on his wheel-chair and watching TV
in the lounge room after the morning physio session while the son was heating
up the food which he brought from home in the morning. They were about to have
their lunch.
“Does your brother have a girl friend?” the father asked.
“I don’t know.”
“He never tells me. I was just wondering if he has told you.”
“We never talk about such things. You know that.”
“Why are you asking anyway?”
“I was thinking, if your brother had been married it would
have been so much easier. It has been really hard for both of you looking after
me.”
The son nodded his head in agreement but didn’t speak a word.
They came back to their room which was shared by three other
patients in the afternoon.
The father, pointing at a nurse, exclaimed, “Oh! she is the
one who speaks our language.”
The nurse looked up and smiled at them.
After finishing what she was doing with the other patient,
she came close to the father’s bed and said, “Yeah. I have been to your
country. I love the language. But, I can speak only few words,” looking at the
son.
“Oh really? I am surprised,” the son replied.
“I went there to study, stayed there for a couple of years,”
the nurse spoke in their native language, throwing the son by surprise.
“Your accent is actually good for somebody who has lived
there for just two years,” the son said.
The nurse only smiled at the compliment.
“You are so close with your father. And you have been looking
after him so well. I was telling myself—it is hard to find such bonding between
a father and a son in our times,” the nurse said.
“Thank you,” the son said, and continued, “ It is just three
of us in the family, including my brother, and we look after each other. I lost
my mum couple of years ago after her long battle with cancer. Six months ago,
he had stroke. It’s been really difficult for the past two years.”
“Oh, I am sorry about that,” said the nurse.
“No, no. It’s ok. I just want him to be better so that we can
take him home.”
The nurse nodded.
“It was nice talking to you and thank you for looking after
him,” the son said.
“It was a pleasure talking to you too, and take care,” the
nurse smiled as she spoke.
***
“I have to leave early today. I need to prepare for the
examination which is due next week,” the son said as he was preparing to leave
the hospital in the evening.
“When is your brother coming?”
“I am not sure. May be around 7 after finishing his work.”
As he was about to exit from the door, he saw the nurse with
whom he had chatted in the afternoon. The nurse smiled and waved at him, and he
suddenly felt good. He smiled and waved back to her before leaving the
hospital.
He headed towards the University library hoping to prepare
for the examination which was soon approaching. After putting his bag down, he
made a coffee for himself and stepped outside for a smoke. Dragging on the
cigarette, he thought about his mother and all the time he had spent at the hospital
looking after her. He was about to complete his University degree when his mother
was diagnosed with cancer. The situation had forced him to take a year off from
his studies. He was onto the final semester, months away from completing his
degree, when his father had stroke. Now, his final examinations were just a
week away and he could finally graduate.
Smoking there outside the library in the twilight, he felt
sad about his life. He thought he had gone through a lot in life already.
Sometimes, he couldn’t believe that he was just 28. Most of the times, he felt
older than his age.
He was relived that he now stood just weeks away from
graduating with a degree in accountancy. However, he had no clue what he was
going to do after finishing the degree. He obviously had thoughts about landing
a decent job and securing his future. But then he always became despondent when
he realised that he hadn’t figured out his passion yet. Yes, he wanted to have
a job as an accountant that would pay him decent salary. At the same time, he
also knew that accountancy was not his passion, not something he would want to
do with desire and certain madness.
After finishing his smoke, he went back inside the library
and sat in front of one of the computers, hoping to finish his last assignment
on the subject. But, he couldn’t take his mind off the nurse whom he was
talking to a while ago at the hospital.
He went inside the toilet and undid his pants. Then he
stroked his penis, gently first and more frantically as he was about to climax,
imagining the nurse. Just then, his phone rang. He cursed himself for not
putting the phone on vibration. He looked at the phone. It was his father. He
allowed the phone to ring full and went back to the thoughts of the nurse who was
teasing him in fantasy, without picking up the phone. As he was about to
climax, for the second time, suddenly the nurse disappeared. Instead, he saw his
father. He quickly took his hands away. But it was too late. It trickled down
the edge of the commode.
The older son arrived at the hospital around 8 PM. He was tired
of working all day at the automobile workshop. The tip of his fingers were still
murky and greasy. He looked after the business which his father had owned
before he came down with stroke, leaving him semi-paralysed, early this year.
“Did you have your dinner?” the older son asked his father.
“Yeah. But it wasn’t that good. You know how the hospital
food is.”
“Want some noodles? I bought a takeaway while leaving from
work.”
The son opened the takeaway box, set the table in front of
him, fixed the bed height and sat on the edge of the bed.
“You know, I have been thinking,” the father said.
“Yes. I am listening.”
“I think you should get married. Your brother also thinks the
same.”
“We have talked about this before. I don’t want to marry when
you are so unwell. I want you to recover first.”
“Don’t be silly. What if I never recover?”
“Did you forget what the doctors said. You will be back on
your feet after regular physio exercises. It is just a matter of time.”
“It has already been two months here at the hospital. I don’t
feel any improvement on my legs.”
“Yeah I understand. But we need to trust the doctors.”
His brother was already asleep when he reached home late at
night.
***
He was preparing coffee when his brother got up in the
morning.
“What time did you come home last night?”
“I came around 10. You were asleep.”
“Yeah, went to bed early. I was tired.”
“I think we need to discuss.”
“About what?” the younger brother was somewhat surprised.
They hardly spoke to each other. Some days, they would not
even exchange a single word. The older one would get up in the morning, eat
something for breakfast, and head towards the hospital. After spending some
time with his father, he would head to work and not return home until late at
night. The younger one would get up after his brother left home, eat breakfast
and cook lunch. Then he would go to the hospital and stay there until evening
before returning home. By the time his brother returned home, he would soon be
asleep. That was their standard routine.
“I think he is better off at home. He is at the hospital only
for the physio sessions. And we know he doesn’t like doing exercises with the
physios. He can do the exercises at home with either of us.”
“You want to bring him home?”
“Yes. I think that would be best for all of us. I know he
wants to come home.”
“But who will look after him when I go to work on Tuesdays
and Wednesdays?”
“The business is going all right at the moment. May be you
can think about dropping your work for sometime. I am sure he will get better.”
The younger brother stayed silent at his brother’s
suggestion. He was already tired looking after his father at the hospital,
equipped with the doctors and the nurses. He knew it was going to be extremely
difficult looking after his father at home, making sure he took his medications
on time, taking him to toilet and changing his nappy. He was also aware of his
examinations next week.
He was grateful to his brother that he had taken over his
father’s automobile business and that he was looking after the family. But, he didn’t
idolise his brother. He wanted to finish his degree at the University and
secure a job which required him to wear a suit and a tie, a job which required
him to sit most of the day in front of the computer in his private cubicle,
shake hands with people. A job where he commanded respect from his fellow
colleagues. A career which nourished his self-esteem. He didn’t want to end up
like his brother.
Sometimes, he felt sad for his brother, too. His brother was
good at soccer and used to play for a local club. Just when he was about to be
selected for the regional team, he injured his leg while playing one day. He
kept ignoring the injury because he wanted to ensure his selection. But it was
too late. He required a surgery and missed out on the regional selection. The
surgery went all right but soon his mother was diagnosed with cancer. He never
picked up football again.
“Did he tell you that he wants to return home?” asked the
younger brother ending the silence.
“He hasn’t told me. But I can tell that he wants to come back
home.”
“What if he actually doesn’t want to return before he has
fully recovered?”
“In that case, we will not force him.”
***
Couple of weeks later, after his examinations were finished,
they brought their father home. The doctors were hesitant at first but relented
nonetheless against constant pleading from the sons and the patient’s desire to
be back home. The doctors were happy to let him go as long as he did regular
physio exercises at home and took his medications on time.
Before deciding to bring the ailing father home, the brothers
had already reached an understanding on the arrangement: the older brother
would only work weekdays and close the workshop on weekends while the younger
one would take leave from work for a couple of months and look after the
father. The younger brother was not too keen about the arrangement, but he,
too, relented.
The mornings turned out to be busier than anticipated, not much
different from what it used to be at the hospital. The brothers would get up in
the morning and transfer him to the commode chair. After he was done with the
bowels, one would shower him while the other would dress him for the day. The
older one would then start getting ready for work while the younger would start
fixing breakfast for all three.
Things slowed down a bit once the older brother was gone for
work. The younger one would do the dishes and make himself another cup of
coffee while the father would drift back to sleep listening to music on radio.
He would then venture out on the veranda and smoke a cigarette or two. Often,
he would wonder what he was going to do for the rest of the day. But the day
would turn out to be equally busy like the morning. He would cook lunch, set
the table for his father, make sure he took his medications together with the
food, and do the dishes. Once he was finished with the work at kitchen, his
father would need him. Sometimes, he would have to be propped up the bed as he
would have slid too low down the bed. Other times, he would need a bottle to
empty his bladder. He didn’t mind as long as all urine went inside the bottle.
Sometimes, it would spill and the bed-sheet would be wet. He dreaded such
moments.
In no time, it would be evening. Evenings came with some
respite for the younger brother. After the father returned home, the older
brother had started to return home early. On most days, he would be home by 6.
After returning from shower, he would bring the wheelchair-bound father to the
kitchen and start cooking dinner for the night. He mostly cooked what the
father liked to eat, and the sound of their laughter would often be heard on
the terrace where the younger one would be sitting with his bottle of beer and
a box of cigarette. It appeared as though both the father and the older brother
looked forward to that time of the day in the evening. The younger brother, for
his own reasons, also looked forward to that time in the evening when he could
afford to get lost in his solitude without having to worry about his father.
Evenings came as great relief for all the three members of the household.
***
A week after the father had returned home, he started
complaining that he was having difficulty falling asleep. He also mentioned to
his sons that the nurses used to give him sleeping pills when he had such
difficulty at the hospital. The older brother was hesitant about buying
sleeping pills as he had heard about the dependency caused by such pills.
Though he did not tell either to his father or his brother, he feared of the
detrimental effects of sleeping pill overdose. The younger brother, however,
was open to the idea.
“If the nurses used to give him at the hospital, I think it should
be ok here at home as well,” he said, “if it helps him to get some sleep.”
Upon more requests from his father, the younger brother
bought two packets of sleeping pills from the nearby pharmacy. One he kept for
himself, and the other he gave it to his father.
After returning from work, the older one asked his brother if
he bought sleeping pills for their father. The younger one nodded his head. His
brother did not probe further.
Before going to bed, the older brother asked his father if he
wanted to take the pills now.
“You go to sleep. I will see for a while. If I don’t fall
asleep soon, I will take one. Just leave them on the table,” the father said.
He left the whole packet on the table and went to sleep. His brother was
already asleep.
The younger brother was up early the next morning. Without
washing his face, he went to the kitchen to make coffee. The father’s room was
the one next to the kitchen. He thought about checking on his father as he
could not hear the sound of radio coming out of the room.
The room felt unusually quiet as he opened the door. His
father was asleep, his head falling onto his right, while his face exuded
calmness. He called his father a few times but there was no response. He
touched his hands, they felt cold. He tried to feel his pulse, but he couldn’t
feel anything. He then looked at the table. Not a single sleeping pill was left
in the strip. All 12 tablets were missing. He knew what had happened.
He fished a new, unopened packet from his pocket and put them
on the table. He grabbed the empty strip and put them back on his pocket. As he
was about to leave the room, it appeared as though something came to his mind
suddenly. He walked back to the bed, leaned on his father and closed his eyes
that were partially open.
The younger brother then went back to his bed and pretended
to be asleep.
***
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