January 12, 1998. The date my maternal grandfather died of stroke. The last time he had an attack was in 1978, one year before I was born. For twenty years, he lived a life of being a hemiplegic. I was already in 3rd year PT proper when I came to know the facts about the dreaded cerebrovascular accident (a.k.a. stroke). I was able to note that my grandfather presents with signs of shoulder subluxation, nonfluent aphasia, and other typical manifestations indicative of the disease. I admired him a lot because of his courage and determination to fight the disabilities. His fighting spirit enabled him to withstand the complications in a span of two decades. The last time Lolo was admitted to the hospital was two months prior to his death, and he never stayed there fore long. Three days before my grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary, he went around the neighborhood for short visits - a thing he never did for a long time. By the moment he took his late-morning nap, he never woke up any more.
Nearly six months after his demise, my maternal grandmother grandmother followed. It was July 11, 1998. She was a healthy individual and was never diagnosed of any illness except for minor colds and fever some years back. I am now a 4th year PT student. On the first week of my senior year, we took up Pathology and studied about different conditions and diseases related to our would-be profession. I never knew that on the very same day we dealt on topics about neoplasms, she was also admitted at the hospital because of intermittent headaches, vomiting, and weightloss. The following day, her brain CT scan came out and the diagnosis revealed that she had cancer cells in her brain. It seemed like I was hit by an iceberg. The clinical finding sounds Greek to me no more. I knew that it was something serious.
I see to it that I visit her every single day in the hospital. I often tried to sound happy in front of her. She always scolded me whenever she hears me complain about difficulties I have in school. She reminded me to just keep on studying hard. On the first week of her confinement, Lola's system cooperated well with all the medications so the family agreed to put her on chemotherapy. However, things drastically changed. Two days prior to discharge, she became very ill. The chemo plan had to be canceled because the doctors told us it will not work. Later on, her level of consciousness regressed. She became obtunded.
My major subjects began putting pressure on us, so I was not able to visit Lola immediately when she was discharged home for palliative treatment.
Saturday night, I finally found time to see her. I was the only one who came late, perhaps around 7:30 PM. I saw her lying very ill on her bed. She was surrounded by all of her nine children, her siblings, and all her grandchildren. There were three IV lines dangling by her side. Her breathing was far from normal, but the rhythm was still constant. She neither moved nor blinked. An aunt constantly monitors Lola's blood pressure.
Eventually, my aunt asked for my assistance to double check her vital signs. The reading I got from was very low, so I called my uncle (who's a nurse) to verify. I just held her hand. Lola tried to open her eyes once to try to stare at me ... and I saw it. She gasped for air, and then she's gone.
Deafening silence.
Mixed emotions filled my senses. Anguish. Relief. Sadness. My grandparents would never see me graduate and receive my degree. They would have been my first patients if they were alive. She's gone. They are both gone.
I know she loved me very much, for even before her final journey, before flying away to a place called eternity ... she waited for me.
