Almost two weeks ago, my Papu had a stroke. In retrospect, it felt weird, almost surreal. I find it strange how one day, everything is so normal, so ordinary, then you wake up another day and boom! Things are not the way they were.
I keep on repeating it to myself... what happened to my Dad. I guess I'm still trying to make sense of it... Two weeks ago, the left parietal/occipital part of my father's brain hemorrhaged and swelled. He could've been paralyzed, he could've been dead -- but he isn't. He's still here... moving around the house as if nothing happened. He lost part of his memory, but it's getting better now. His right extremities are now a bit uncoordinated and slow, but even that is getting better. Most importantly, he's here. He's here.
It was strange, when the doctor was explaining what happened to him, she touched my arm and told me twice or thrice that this is serious, like I didn't know how serious it was -- as if she's waiting for me to break down and cry. True enough, a lot of people thought that I was a mess at the time, that I'd be crying my heart out, knowing how such a Daddy's Girl I am. However, neither one happened and for two reasons. First, I didn't have time to break down and cry. All I did was take care of everything, as if I didn't have a choice but do it. Second, I didn't feel that it's a bad day. I mean, it was, but I knew in my heart that in the end, it's going to be ok.
It's crazy how, amidst a family emergency, a scene from Grey's Anatomy came into my mind. It was when Cristina followed George outside the hospital after his father died. Cristina told him, "There's a club. The Dead Dads Club. And you can't be in it until you're in it. You can try to understand, you can sympathize. But until you feel that loss... My dad died when I was nine. George, I'm really sorry you had to join the club." In the middle of all the chaos and the bad news, I have decided, "This is not the day that I'll be joining the club." And throughout that time when my Dad was in the hospital, even up until now, this "decision" has strangely given me a lot of strength. Just thinking about it me gives me hope, that things are just going to get better and better. True enough, they did. Everyday.
Having said that, I am very, very, very thankful. As I've said previously, I know it's probably selfish of me to want my Papu back -- all of him. I won't lie, it's hard to watch your father not know when he was born or where he lives or ask you the same thing over and over, but seriously, I can't complain. I still have my Dad. A lot of people would've given anything to have that. I'm also thankful to know that as much as my immediate family is very small, I have a bigger family out there -- a network of friends who supports and cares for our family, who visited, who prayed or just checked on us. I'm thankful for my life partner, Millie, who stood by me while I try my best to hold things together and for being my strength and my place of refuge when I'm just tired and all I want to do is hide from the rest of the world.
It's been unbelievably crazy the past couple of weeks. This has probably been the most difficult time for our family, but here we all are... surviving, taking each day slowly but surely, re-learning together. I'm especially glad that we are happy, resilient people who can laugh things off when my Dad is getting confused and doesn't know his right from his left hand. The last thing that I want to happen is for my Dad to feel frustrated or to wallow in self-pity. I'm glad that my Dad is one hell of a survivor... he has always been.
I love you, Papu. Thanks for being my Dad.
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