Coming to terms with Death
"Her life hung tenaciously a the end of a
respirator. She had been in a coma for 3 months and had to be
helped to breathe. Her lifeless body lay rigid on the cold
hospital bed. As I sat beside my daughter, I tried to observe any
motion of her face, any hope for her revival. But alas, it was of
no use. The only movement was the rise & fall of her little
chest. There was no blinking of her soft, brown eyes, no
twitching of her long, sinewy limbs. To imagine, that she was
just like any typical cheery 5-year old girl 3 months ago. In my
heartbrokenness, I dropped my head and asked God why, why did he
put a precious life into my hands and then take it away so soon?
As I glanced up again, teary eyed, my glazed orbs caught the
headlines of the daily papers. "Toddler falls to his
death." A sense of de ja vu swept over me........
"Mommy, Mommy! Buster looks really hungry. Can I give him a
doggy biscuit? Please?" pleaded Demi, my little bundle of
pride and joy. " Sure honey, Hold on a minute. Wait for
Mommy to get the biscuit tin down, alright?" I replied amid
my tedious calculations of the monthly household bills. I must
have forgotten Demi's request and after half an hour, I heard a
frightening crash, followed by a scream. I dashed to the kitchen
to find my daughter lying on the floor beside the tin. "I'm
alright." The little girl insisted, as I carried her into
the living room. But then, she stiffened and lost consciousness
as her heartbeat faded and stopped. I snatched up the phone and
dialed 995. "She's not breathing!" The operator
immediately alerted a nearby hospital. "Try to remain calm.
The doctors will be arriving in a few minutes. Try CPR."
Hands trembling, I applied the technique.
Minutes later, an ambulance arrived. They laid Demi on a
stretcher and carried her away. I got in beside her in the
ambulance, sobbing to myself. As I peered over Demi's petite
frame, I prayed a silent prayer. In my heart, I said, "
Lord, please save my little daughter. Don't take her away from me
just yet." Soon, we reached the hospital. The medics wheeled
Demi towards a cold, dark room with the words "Intensive
Care Unit" written in bold red letters above. My hopes were
dashed as a grim despair fell over me. Only the worst cases end
up in the ICU. Is my beautiful daughter going to die? No! I
screamed inwardly. My Demi is going to grow up into a beautiful
woman with a wonderful and fulfilling life.
Sean, Demi's father arrived with a troubled look on his face.
"What happened?" he asked. I painstakingly narrated the
tragic incident and ended up sobbing uncontrollably. Sean tried
to be strong for my sake and comforted me, but the unmistakable
look of pain was there. A middle-aged surgeon emerged from the
room and we rushed to his side. In an unsympathetic voice, he
delivered the message that Demi was officially brain-dead. No
sweat. Just another dead patient. Time for a hot coffee and a
doughnut. I bet he had done this hundreds of times before and had
lost his sense of humanity. His nest question welled up my anger.
"Do you want me to pull the plug?" was the off-hand
question. I screamed at him hysterically, "No! Don't you
dare takeaway my daughter's life. Go back there and save her. I'm
going to kill you if you don't!" Sean held me and consoled
me. I knew that I could never bring myself to pull the plug. So
until now, Demi is still hooked up to her life-support machine.
This is my last visit to Demi's bed. They are going to pull the
plug on her this afternoon. The cost was just too much, and the
pain was too horrid. I have learnt to let go of Demi's life and
come to terms with the incident. I pray to God that he would take
good care of my little daughter till I rejoin her in heaven, and
then nothing will ever separate us again.
NB: I wrote this in Sec. 4. And I liked it alot.
back to story
