Saying my farewell

He was smiling when he was wheeled into the operation theatre. Earlier on in the CCU room, he was cheerful. Personally I was baffled why he was in that mood. My four children were all with me. The previous night after our prayer together I was reading 'the doa selamat' and broke down towards the end and they were very concerned and anxious. The operation took longer than earlier anticipated. The doctor came out to tell us that the surgeon needed time to scrutinize and analyze the intestines which had collapsed due to earlier operations. Due to that fact, we were advised to return home or go for meal. 

He was given epidurals to suppress the pain and was gaining consciousness with slight hallucinations. The surgeon said that it was a normal consequence of epidural administration. He was happy with the operation and had no worries. His two assistants conveyed different messages. One especially was all the time using the word critical to me. Personally I was very confused with these mixed signals. I still wonder what they actually meant when they used the term 'stable'. Was it stable to mean getting better or stable as no change though critical? 

He became fully conscious on Monday but said that he was in pain. The doctors did not wish to have him overdosed with pain killers. They tried to make him comfortable but to no avail. He became moody and when the children came to visit he wanted them to leave early. He was visibly irritable and in great discomfort. He was disgruntled with the nurses and the doctors. His behavior was totally out of character and I had not seen this side of him before. Nothing I did or said was right. The doctors and nurses advised him to sit up, have the pillows popped up at his back. He refused. He said that he preferred to lie down. He was advised to have the oxygen tube inserted in his nostrils, he took it off the moment they left the room. What made him so angry was that the pain killer was not effectively working to reduce the pain. He kept on softly pressing a small soft pillow at his stomach. Fortunately by midnight he was able to snatch some short naps.

Early the next morning he told me he wanted to have mushroom soap. I checked with the nurse and she said he could have fluid foods. So I rushed home and had the mushroom soup boiled. He was ravenously swallowing the soup which I spooned to his mouth. I was touched by that because he was having his favourite soup. By 11 he was groaning with pain. I was worried if that was due to the soup he had earlier which could have upset his tummy. When he was calmer, I went home for lunch. Immediately I finished my zohor prayer I received a call from the surgeon saying that he was going to operate on him again. So I rushed to the hospital just in time to see him smiling at me and our children as he was wheeled into the operation theatre.