On watching her husband, suffer, with his terminal illness, waiting, for death to come and, claim him, translated…
That day, my husband was, wheeled into the treatment room, had a “smooth ride” of his cancer treatment processes, no loss of hair, no losing all his weight, he’d only, complained of aches and pains more often, and as the primary treating physician visited his ward, he’d only, begged him for more pain meds, but, after the pains subsided, another sort of illness, took him over.
One afternoon, I’d, rushed off to the hospital, it was the call of the caretaker from the bed next to his. I’d never seen him like this before, lips trembling continually, kept apologizing repeatedly, I’m sorry, I’m, sorry, the group of doctors hovered over his bed, and started discussing, and because my husband was in and out of comas, and started calling aloud things that don’t make sense, fearing that it might affect the other patients who shared the same room as he, they’d decided to wheel him into the treatment room.
And after that we’d, taken, that downhill slope toward, the bottom, he could laugh and chat at first, but, with his getting diagnosed with acute pneumonia, he had an intubation, and because of how the hospital worried that he might hurt himself, they’d, restrained him with the cloth bands to his bed, and his elbows now, bruised up, with the days that came and went, his skins ulcered. Every day, he’d slept, waken up, waken up, and slept, and can only, stare at the ceilings, as he’d come home from work from before, he’d, ranted, incessantly on what went on during his work day, he can, no longer speak a single word now, and it must be, too, trying for him.
At first, my husband mapped out his, recovery plan, placed it at the bottom of his, desk drawer, he had a strong will to survive then, was optimistic on this path to, defeat cancer, and yet, months passed by, the life and death that came and went in the hospital wards, the elderly who was still there on the next bed, got wheeled out with a white cloth covering the bed today, my husband also, transferred from the normal wards, into the I.C.U., and connected to the machines to live now.
Once, I’d, gotten closed to his ears, told him, “if you still want to live, nod”. And it wasn’t, as I’d expected, a nod, he’d shaken his head then, for a very, very, long time, with the tears that stained up a huge chunk of his, pillow. While I, too selfish, can only, struggle within my own self, after I’d made up my mind, I’d still, tried to keep the moments of visiting him in the hospital afterwork, again, and again, and again, hour by hour, and, begged for that, unknown day, to finally, come.
And so, this, is how difficult it is, to watch someone you love very dearly, get tortured by his, illness, and, at the start he had this strong will to survive, thought he was going to, overcome, but, as time went by, he grew weaker, sicker, and now, he can only, lie in his hospital bed, and wait for death, and there’s, nothing you CAN do for him, save for, sign that DNR on his, behalf now.
