12 years ago, I saw my sister being revived by doctors and nurses in the old Medical City to no avail. When my mama and kuya and kuya arnel rushed her to the hospital, I was thinking that they will come back 2 or 3 hours later saying that my sister just had a stressful evening and would just need some rest. But it didn't happen. She passed away 6 days later.
I'm home alone now with just 4 hours of sleep waiting for a call from my kuya or mama to tell me what's going on with papa. Papa vomited just about 2 or 3 hours ago after having lunch. Vomit was red...and I tried not to panic. He was rushed to his doctor's clinic who advised us to have him confined right away. So we did...
And I am crying...
Why?
Because this have happened to us. I have this silly concept that if a family goes through a huge wave of grief, they must not go through it again. But that's not reality. That's not life.
There's this large lump inside of me telling me to panic and hope for the worst thing that could happen now. But the more sane part of me is telling me that I should think positive. Geez! He doesn't look sick at all! Well, except for the fact that my father is a stroke patient...he looks mighty healthy!
I have this super negative thinking that everytime someone in the family will get into a hospital, the worst thing could happen. My sister's passing was just too traumatic for me, even after 12 years. I loved my sister very much. My father and I may not have the best father-daughter relationship but... He is still my father.
Here's hoping...and praying...
