The resistance period is waning. I feel the adrenaline starting to lose effect, as a wave of exhaustion sweeps by.
This facade of a stoic, calm and collected 24-year old grandson is falling apart.
My maternal grandmother was recently admitted to the hospital for a minor stroke. She's back at home now, but the left side of her face is partially paralysed and her speech is slurred.
She's been doing some regular physiotherapy by walking with a stroller to and fro the toilet, but she needs a feeding tube to make sure food doesn't enter her windpipe instead.
At least she still has her sense of humour. I still have my grandmother, as selfish as that sounds.
My dad's still cracking jokes with grandma, as he rained glowing reviews while she worked on her physiotherapy earlier this evening. How he manages to find the bright side of optimism in a sombre setting astounds me.
Just a few minutes ago, my mom, together with the help of my (fresh grad) doctor cousin, just fixed grandma's feeding tube in place as she subconsciously tried to yank it out for the second time today. This is the first time in her life that my mom's doing this and she's unfazed.
I've the hardest fucking parents in the world, and I'm extremely proud to be their son. I just pray that I'll have the mental strength and fortitude to do them right when the moment requires me to step up.
Right now, my usual borderline-sociopathic ability to seamlessly disassociate with reality has been subdued. I am a shadow of myself, sitting in the kitchen alone, breaking apart inside.
This facade of a stoic, calm and collected 24-year old grandson is falling apart.
My maternal grandmother was recently admitted to the hospital for a minor stroke. She's back at home now, but the left side of her face is partially paralysed and her speech is slurred.
She's been doing some regular physiotherapy by walking with a stroller to and fro the toilet, but she needs a feeding tube to make sure food doesn't enter her windpipe instead.
At least she still has her sense of humour. I still have my grandmother, as selfish as that sounds.
My dad's still cracking jokes with grandma, as he rained glowing reviews while she worked on her physiotherapy earlier this evening. How he manages to find the bright side of optimism in a sombre setting astounds me.
Just a few minutes ago, my mom, together with the help of my (fresh grad) doctor cousin, just fixed grandma's feeding tube in place as she subconsciously tried to yank it out for the second time today. This is the first time in her life that my mom's doing this and she's unfazed.
I've the hardest fucking parents in the world, and I'm extremely proud to be their son. I just pray that I'll have the mental strength and fortitude to do them right when the moment requires me to step up.
Right now, my usual borderline-sociopathic ability to seamlessly disassociate with reality has been subdued. I am a shadow of myself, sitting in the kitchen alone, breaking apart inside.
posted from Bloggeroid
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