Here is the short story I promised you. I wrote this in October 2010: A REASON TO LIVE Six months ago, I came home one evening too tired and worn; I just went to coil myself on the sofa. My wife asked me what’s wrong but I said I was just tired. But I knew something was wrong because it took me almost an hour to walk from the park which is just a quarter mile away, stopping every now and then to catch my breath. But I didnt want to sound alarm thinking about the expenses if I were to go and see a doctor. The next morning, I had difficulty breathing. I told my daughter to ask for some medicine from the dispensary where she is working. She gave me several tablets of an antibiotic when she came home and told me to take a tablet every day. The heaviness in my chest somewhat subsided but after four days it turned worse and I could hardly breath. My wife immediately called the doctor and rushed me to his clinic. There, what I suspected all along was confirmed. I was suffering from a full blown pneumonia. The medicine I was taking was simply not enough to arrest it but only delayed its development. A thorough medical examination was done and they also found that I also have a chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder and heart enlargement. A barrage of medication was prescribed. We then went home and I spent the whole day in bed but when evening came I felt so weak and they brought me to the Freeport dispensary. My blood pressure shot up alarmingly and I almost could not breathe at all. They hooked me up to an oxygen bottle and let me lie until my blood pressure subsided a little. A chest x-ray was done and showed my dire condition. The doctor advised that instead of getting confined in the hospital, it would be better to get an oxygen outfit that I could use at home so my daughter would be the one to look at me. We went home and my wife called the gas company for the oxygen outfit. Shortly it was delivered and I was tethered to it. When midnight came however, my breathing got worse and I could hardly move. The worst has come. I knew I was dying. But somehow the thought of death did not bother me. All that was in my mind was the question Is there anything left that is worth living for? Then the memories of the unhappy past slowly came back to mind. There were the cold early mornings that I had to go and peddle bread around town to earn a little for my needs; the heavy task for an asthmatic weakling like me to pitch water from a well half a mile away everyday; the beating I received from my aunt who accused me of cutting her thrown away shoes which my elder brother did but was blamed on me; the envy over new clothes of my siblings on many Christmases while there was none for me; the cruel treatment I had from them that made me desire to run away from home and go on my own; the many nights I spent under the bridge trying to catch some sleep on the cold pavement with an empty stomach; the thoughts of ending it once and for all by jumping into the river and drown; all these and many more sad and harsh moments of life. Is there anything really worth living for? Or life was meant to be suffered and loathed? For how long, I do not know but I laid there unmoving and it didnt matter anymore whatever was coming. All things seemed to have been lost and the only thing to welcome is the prospect of eternal rest. The news about my condition however reached my relatives. Then my elder brother came to visit me. I felt good to see him after all those long years we havent been in touch. The meeting had erased all the animosities of the past that I always kept in mind. Next, my sister from the province came and brought a reclining chair where I could sit or sleep comfortably. She hasn’t been very kind to me before either, but now she has made up for all of the unkind things she did to me. Then my younger brother in the USA called to inform me that he was sending an oxygen concentrator and an emergency oxygen bottle. He has not done anything bad to me but he really wasn’t ever close to me as I have already gone away from home when he was still a little kid. Friends came to see me and wished for my recovery. Some even offered to pray for me. A Chinese friend dropped by everyday to help me go over the boredom, occasionally bringing delicious moon cakes. Acquaintances at the park also came over to see me. My sister in law sent some money for the medicine and other needs and told my wife not to worry about our subsistence and she will take care of it. Even strangers lent their hands. The owner of the clinic where my son- in- law was working heard about my condition and gave an expensive breathing device that we could never afford to buy on our own. Somehow the bitter feelings that I used to nurture were gone. And all along my wife was there silently attending to my every need. Then I knew they still care. Life isn’t really that cruel. There must still be a good reason to live. Life is still worth the living. God loves me. One evening my daughter sat at my bedside and started sobbing. I asked what was wrong but she did not answer and instead just stared at me. I pulled her and whispered to her ear Dont you worry, I dont intend to die. I’m still convalescing until now but one of these days, when I get back on my feet, I’ll go and pay a visit to the folks back home.
Posted on: Mon, 19 Jan 2015 04:23:05 +0000
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