Hmm…I am just about to go to sleep. Wasn’t planning to do anything melodramatic about it. I have no tears left to cry. The pain sort of becoming a distant feelings that I don’t feel anymore. The memories faded. Even the face of my baby is sort of blur now.
But then, I know deep in the heart, somewhere very, very deep, those monsters hide. It takes only something to release it. Good thing is I don’t chance upon those triggers so I live a happier life.
Still, I think it is only right a mother remembers her son. Her son who passed away in the evening of May 1st. I think he probably died around 5 pm when I went to the toilet. I suppose it is pre-planned that I would have a sudden, severe tummy ache, left the ICU ward and came back to see nurses resuscitating him.
I knew those resus trolleys. Had seen how nurses would pull those to the bed side of patients whose heart stopped. It contains adrenaline injections, ventilator tubes and those thing they use to open up the jaw to stuff the tubes into the throat. The bagging equipment and of course, that thing they use to ‘electrocute’ the heart to pump again.
By that time, I was probably more expert than most medical students are. I knew how to read the physical signs of a person not getting enough oxygen, I know how much O2 to give, I know how to read SPO2, pulse rates and more.
So, yeah, my son Vincent died on May 1st. It was evening, but I told Prof Lucy of UMMC to keep him ‘alive’ so that my hubby who was on his way back to Penang has the chance to see him before we pulled the plugs. A person will turned cold and stiff if we stopped the oxgyen. But if we keep pumping in the adrenaline to make the heart pumping and oxygen supply given, the body will still be warm.
And I remember clearly when my hubby got there (he wasn’t told that Vincent is already gone), Vincent actually showed sign of sucking. We both knew that Vincent loves to suck milk from bottles when he wasn’t on ventilator and he would made that sucking motion with his mouth. And he thought there is still a chance.
But nope, we had to pull the plugs, the adrenaline, the oxygen, the artery line (which was to supply medicines). And that was the only time we saw Vincent’s face minus tubes. He was born premature at 28 weeks, he lived for seven months and all the time, we have never seen his face minus tubes and surgery tapes.
And after all the clearance in the ward, Prof Lucy allowed me to carry him to the morgue for clearance while the attendant pushed that ugly, metal, cold, big ‘coffin’ used for hundreds of other people. My baby is not going in there. But hospital ruling is he must be wrapped like a corpse. Which he is. But Prof told me I can opened up the white cloth when I got into my car, from UMMC to Penang.
I did take off the cloth but I didn’t notice he was still bleeding from his artery cut (they cut a line in one of his arteries on his neck) so he bled on my blouse as it was dark and I didnt notice until I reached Penang.
So, yeah, that was nine years ago. It doesn’t traumatised me much now. But all those vivid details, I can remember them all. Maybe if I live another 90 years, I will still remember even when I cannot remember anything else.
Well, on this day, I do wonder how the other two mothers whose children died before Vincent cope today? Do they still hurt as much? Does the Chinese mom whose son was 6 years old manage to overcome her loss? I am pretty sure the Ustaz and his family will be as strong as I am though. Our faiths (though not the same) promised us syurga and akhirat. Someone told the Ustaz’s wife that her son will wait for her with seteguk air di akhirat. Someone tells me my son will be with Jesus, waiting for me in Heavens. But people told the Chinese mom not to cry, not to grieve, not to be by her son’s bedside as he was dying because he had followed their lord away. And he will be reborn to happier place. That one, I am very sorry for her. I couldn’t cope with that sort of thing so that’s why I left the faith. My son, even in death, is still my son.