For the past couple of years, I have been dreaming of that day where I would submit my resignation letter. I have been dreaming of quitting this job. When mother got sick, I said I would do it this year. It was all planned, effective until December of 2022. But it happened earlier than planned. Before March 2022 ended, I submitted that letter.
There were signs I had been ignoring for the past many years, but I have been afraid. The salary, some people, the politics, me being not appreciated, new staffs being considered over me, I was left behind, my supervisor shutting me out, and then my mother. My mother. This job was not worth it anymore. While I was touched by my manager's gestures and appreciation, and our HR manager who gave me support and the same appreciation as any leader would, my supervisor, of all people, who clearly had no plans of helping me grow and learn, did not even talk me out to a better way. I was not ready, but when will I ever be? That day that I thought I will be ready will never happen. I decided, I did it. I was afraid for the future that offered no certainty. I had no savings, no health insurance whatsoever, no anything a regular job offered. But my mother needed me, now more than ever. I had wished she would live until she's 80. I had bargained with God even until 75.
May 31, we were back at the hospital again. Spent ten days for another round of blood transfusion. Five more packs, at the nearby public hospital, we were all tired.
Before June ended, the week right after my mother celebrated her 72nd birthday on the 24th, we went to the hospital once again. This time in another public hospital in Pasig. It was one of the most horrible day of my life. The emergency room was packed with desperate and sick people. It was Monday, the 27th. When we came in the morning we were right there along the hallways, my mother sat in the wheelchair until ten in the evening. Before she was given a bed, the ER head approached me and told me that a relative sought for his help. He explained that they are doing all their best to attend to all the patients. I understood. There were many patient needed immediate care, few hospital staff. There were not enough spaces for extra beds, and people come and go like it was a flea market and everybody needed help. In that short span of time, three people arrived and were already dead. I still cannot express how I would describe that day.
The following day, on the 28th, around 4 in the afternoon, a young surgeon came in and introduced herself. We were still at the ER after more than 24 hours and some tests done to my mother. The doctor mentioned the tests that still needed to be done, and an operation won't be possible because of her weight, and when my mother heard the words biopsy, chemotherapy, tubes and all, she was scared. I said to the doctor that since she mentioned chemo, is it cancer then. She did not say yes but she instead said that a biopsy still needs to be done to determine which specific cancer it is and continued blabbing words that I did not understood anymore. I was overwhelmed but what I heard, and so was my mother. It is esophageal cancer, according to the medical certificate issued.
A couple of minutes after the doctor left, my mother said "Let's go home, I don't want to do this anymore". I did not say anything. I just held her arm and let myself a quiet cry while mother recalled the days when she was taking care of my father who died 8 years ago from lymphoma.
I told this to my family through in our group chat, and I also called my eldest sister. I told them to come over and talk to my mother.
The following day, on our third day at the ER, I signed a waiver about my mother's decision. She already made up her mind. The doctor's were seemed to be bitter about this, or is it just me. I don't know. The other doctor seemed to be in an angry mood when we told them that the patient wanted to go home. He even told us that when we go out of the hospital my mother will die in days. Why I did not sense any compassion from these doctors. We stayed one more day after my mother decided, but her decision was final, after talking to my siblings. I asked them all to come along with a cousin and another relative who was with us the whole time at the ER.
I'm unemployed, my mother have cancer. I wish I am brave enough.
To my future self who is reading this blog, this moment I am okay. This few seconds that I'm typing these letters, my eyes are welling up tears because I have been trying so hard to be strong and okay because I have no other choice, I am okay. Mother is sleeping, from time to time I check her when she's asleep and making sure she's still breathing. Most of the time I wish for a miracle, and at the same time I appreciate every second that she's still here. In three days, you'll be 42. I don't know how old you will be by the time you go back to this blog.
I want coffee.
