Yam was 10 years old in 2006 when she was diagnosed of leukemia. She had 3 courses of chemotherapy, then a bone marrow transplant – all in 2006. She bounced back to wellness quite fast, was back to school and did things she was happy doing. She was back, not exactly to her old, but to a new, normal. She was happy as she always was and we were extremely happy, too, as did her friends and her many supporters. Death stared at us, but Yam saw victory from its very threshold.
A year after transplant, she had two bouts of infection that needed hospitalization. In both, she bounced back pretty well. But this March to April episode? It was just simply too long. Will she bounce back as she always did?
Yam’s pediatric-hematologist-oncologist wasn’t exactly comfortable when she examined her on February 29. She advised us to go to Manila to check on the skin rashes. But the slight eye bleeding bothered her, more so because Yam’s platelet count was normal. Déjà vu? This was how Yam appeared when she first saw her in April 2006.
After 23 days in two hospitals in Manila and so many days at a Davao hospital, we kept facing a blank wall. So when we were informed of the relapse on the night of April 12, we were devastated but weren’t exactly caught off-guard. We felt the same feeling we had two years back when we were first informed she had leukemia, back but this time we were a little bit numb. And on the educational side, the information somehow explained the fever that refused to go away and the bone marrow that didn’t produce enough normal blood cells.
The following day, I got hold of the telephone and talked lengthily in succession to Yam’s two pediatric-hematologist-oncologists. I gathered that the prospect for remission is slim (very slim). To achieve remission requires high-dose chemotherapy. And post-remission long-term survival and quality of life are uncertain. This time, the battlefield consists of highly resistant cells. And the body may be too tired to withstand episodes of more furious battles.
Getting together as a family on that Sunday, we wondered why we called in a pain management specialist a few days before. We reflected on the occasions when we asked the doctors directly about Yam’s chances. We asked why Yam told her Mom, “Mama, ayaw na” but kept on fighting just the same. We felt some relief on why we entertained letting go at some moments of helplessness at the sight of a lovely but terribly sick child. We wondered why Dad was so restless until he took counsel with a minister. And we were thankful that all of Yam’s siblings had been with her for days by now.
Coming home from work on the weekend of April 5, Yam’s Kuya John stayed for the week. On April 10, her Kuya Joseph arrived from Manila and all three siblings took turns in cheering Yam up and getting involved in various chores at home and in the hospital. Now complete as a family, we all bowed down to God by Yam’s side and solidly and in unison asked Him for one great miracle. We then PUSHed (Pray Until Something Happens) together every day.
In the evening of April 15, after intensely going though the medical chart and looking at Yam’s clinical condition, two of Yam’s doctors jointly talked to us (Mom and Dad) in a room. While in discussion, three of our closest friends in the city, were waiting downstairs to visit. The meeting with the doctors was tearful and delved on matters of fact. We were clearly briefed on possible scenarios. We were clarified on possible options and assured that choices were clearly ours. After the doctors left, it was our turn to talk with our closest friends. By then, we weren’t holding back. We talked about and prepared ourselves on things that can happen. We felt so comforted and reassured by friends so avid and loyal.
The next day, we took care of Yam and carefully observed her behavior and responses. She was restless, had moments of incoherence and sudden surge of energy. On intervals, she asked for her favorite shake, drinks and ice cream - with complete specifications. It was a joy for the family to satisfy her whims. In the afternoon, she rattled off some names. We frantically called the person by cell phone when we recognized the name. She got to listen to her Kuya John assuring her he’d be by her side come evening time.
The morning of April 17 has given us perhaps the most profound experience the family ever had. As early as 7am, Yam’s doctors visited. Mom has to call Dad at home to rush up. Dad had to pass by a potential blood donor to make sure blood is available. After all, Yam’s blood counts were bottom low.
Upon arrival at the hospital, the doctors told us what they see. They have dealt with so many cases like Yam’s and can read the signs so well. And having understood what they were saying, we asked for family private time.
Dad assured Yam we all loved her so dearly and we would not like to let her go, if we had our way. But we are ready to let her go if she believed Jesus was her Lord and Savior. She nodded as she did when her Kuya Joseph asked the same question a few days back. Dad assured her that the family will be okay, that we will take care of each other and we will be by her side.
Mom assured her that Jesus will meet her where she goes and where she goes there will be no more sickness, pain or suffering. In her innocent voice, she blurted, “Sama kayo”. Mom then explained that each of us have our own appointment with the Lord and that we will all be together in the future. To which she asked, “Kailan?”
The siblings then took turns talking to her, whispering to her and hugging her, to which Yam responded in warm and quiet affirmation. She then requested her intravenous connections removed, to which Mom explained that it was needed for infusing her optimum comfort medicines. It was about 11am, Thursday, 17 April.
By 7:45 pm, Yam had her last two gasps of air and peacefully expired in her sleep. Death kept staring at her, and this time, it was a victor. Or is it?
(coming... "Grief and Relief")
+032.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment