My grandmother is in the hospital for the 12th day now. And the doctors do not know what is wrong with her.
Last night I stayed at the hospital with her right after getting back from Kampar. I was sleepless the whole night. My grandmother was suffering throughout the night, coughing and wheezing. Each breathe is labored, each move is excruciating, each cough shook her entire body. Only 12 days and she got so thin. Her skin hanging like loose flesh from her bones, like pieces of wrinkled rags hanging on a stick. Her eyes are always tired and I can barely hear her whispers between moans.
I touched her warm hand and saw all the bruises caused by needles from medication and IV drip. Even simple acts of sitting up from the bed and going to the toilet become such labored work for her weak and small frame. I support her, help her walk and carry her at times. I was utterly surprised by the light weight and suddenly realise how weak she is. The grandmother who watched me grew up, the strong lady who baby-sitted a stubborn naughty girl like me, the soft heart that listen to my tears and tell me that everything will be okay, is now like a fragile little child, depending on me for movements.
It pains me to see a strong woman who raised four children single-handedly become weaken by old age. It pains me to see the very woman who taught me how to be strong at heart and spirit, and is such a fine example herself, be weaken by illness. It pains me to see her expression, winced in pain every time I help her to the toilet or to sit her up. It pains me to see the bruises on her arms caused by needles.
These 2 weeks, I've been praying a lot. I pray for her health and well- being. Despite that I am losing precious sleep every night and I may look like a complete disaster with the pimple over-growth and the eye bags when I start degree in about 3 weeks time, I would give anything to be next to my dearest grandmother.