May 2: Discharge

Pickle Berry
Jul 22, 2017 · 5 min read

sluuurpp.

My friend sipped her coffee and then folded her hands on the little table we were seated at. We had just finished a scrumptious breakfast at a cute restaurant. The sun beamed down at us through the windows, and my friend looked me in the eyes with interest and determination.

As she sits there with her elbows on the table and hands clasped, a ring on her pinky finger glistens, catching my eye. The silver ring — an “iron ring” — is a token that every Canadian engineer receives upon graduating, and serves as a reminder of the obligations and ethical responsibilities associated with the profession. I instinctively feel for my own iron ring with my fingers, and am quietly relieved to find that it’s there, as usual. I bring my hands out from under the table and clasp mine on top of the table too, so she can see my ring.

“So what are your plans this summer!” she asks. “What have you been up to this past week?”

Ah, the question I had been preparing for. I had debated on whether to tell my friends about my mom’s health or not, and conclusively decided to just be straight up about it. Why shouldn’t they know? I always have this internal battle about telling others because although I really want to share the story, my mom is stringent in keeping her cancer a secret. She doesn’t want people to pity her or change the way they act towards her. But my school friend doesn’t even know my parents or my family so it shouldn’t really matter! Sharing this part of my life with someone — anyone — would take a load off of my back.

“Sumi?” she inquires again, waking me up from my thoughts.

“Oh uhh, not much really. Well my in-laws just moved last week so I had to help out with that, you know the gig haha. Jeez I never thought I’d say this, but life is boring without school!”

While internally punching myself, I gave a fake smile. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her.

The conversation went on about discussing our graduation, and how her parents were coming to town to attend the ceremony. We then parted ways, and I quickly got ready to go see my mom at the hospital.

On the drive there, I received an incredible phone call from my older brother, Zane.

“Mom’s being discharged from the hospital!” he exclaimed. “You can do your shift with Mom at our parents place today, instead of the hospital.”

A huge relief washed over me. See, I told myself, good thing I didn’t tell my friend about Mom because this hospital adventure is over! But ecstatic as I was to hear the news, there was a niggling feeling of confusion in the back of my mind. My mom did not look good at all yesterday, and I was worried about her leaving the hospital. She could barely walk or use the bathroom, and it was getting worse. Also, her fevers were still on and off. I couldn’t tell if her trouble with walking was due to the cancer in her bones (which has been progressively getting worse for quite some time), or due to lack of feeling in her legs. Why would the doctors send her home if she couldn’t even walk?

We got home, and Zane and I struggled to help Mom into the house. We recently had a small elevator installed in our garage because she wasn’t able to use the stairs to the house anymore. She carefully made a few steps into the house, then seemed to panic and her whole body gave in. We lifted and dragged her to the borrowed hospital bed we had set up in the family room. Though she complained that she needed to pee, I ignored it and made her sleep. There was no getting her to the washroom right now. We barely made it to the bed just ten steps from the front door. Plus, she made many claims about needing to use the washroom yesterday, and each time I wheeled her to a toilet, she was completely clean.

She slept, ate some food, and slept again. My older sister, Didi, came to visit with her baby. My younger brother, Imran, came around 4pm after school. There’s four of us siblings in total. Two girls and two boys.

Mom finally got to spend the night at home tonight. Things were tough, but at least she was home, which made things enormously easier. No scheduling shifts between the kids to make sure mom isn’t alone, no transporting food/supplies to and from the hospital, no parking nightmares in the overcrowded and overpriced lot, and best of all — the comfort of home.


The next day, Mom went through her regular morning routine with the help of her Personal Care Assistant (PCA), Mahsa. My mom’s parents, Nanima and Nanabapa, were visiting along with Zane. I was on my way over when I got another phone call. It was Zane.

“Hey Sumi, uhh don’t come here right now… we had to call the ambulance to take mom back. Meet me there at the hospital.”

“Wait WHAT? What happened?! Oh my God okay I’m coming…Zane, what happened?” I asked.

“Well, we were just sitting at the table having a snack and Nanima kept trying to talk to Mom but she wouldn’t respond. Like, she was just staring into nothingness with her mouth a bit open. Then when we tried to lift her arm, she would just drop it instead of holding it up. So Mahsa said we should take her to Emerg.” he replied.

“Oh God … this is like last time then. These doctors are so annoying, why did they discharge her from the hospital so soon?!”

“I don’t knowwww…”

“Now we have to go through the entire admissions procedure all over again!”

“I knowwwww…” he sighed in reply. “The worst part was that Nanima and Nanabapa were there and witnessed the whole thing. Poor Nanima kept trying to call Mom’s name but she wouldn’t respond. She kept asking Mom why she wouldn’t talk to her. It was heartbreaking.”

I sighed in reply. “Man, it’s hardest for Nanima. Wish they weren’t there at the time.”

“I know. Okay, well see you in a bit. Meet me at the triage area in the Emerg.”

He hung up and left me to my thoughts.

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