On Happiness in the Face of Death

"Memories are sweet, create and cherish them."

On Happiness in the Face of Death
My dad has final stage liver cancer... and facing the impending approach of the Angel of Death, he decides to smile. Here are 3 instances where he was smiling so beautifully... I would always remember these beautiful moments.

1. 5th December 2012 - My dad was in critical condition on Saturday, 1st December 2012. There were complications and he had blood in his stools. We were asked to choose between using endoscopic procedures to diagnose and treat his condition or to put him on medication drips via intravenous therapy. We decided not to opt for scope as the doctor advised that it was risky for him to go through such a procedure at that time.

Dad was put on drips and there were lots of tubes inserted to both his arms and wrists. His condition improved slowly over the next 4 days but there was blood in his stool again on Wednesday, 5th December 2012. He insisted that the doctor do a scope for him so he knows what exactly is the problem. My dad has always been strong, independent and stubborn. Once he has decided, it is not likely that any of us can convince him to change his mind.

As the team of nurses and doctors gathered around his bed to prepare to push him to the surgery room, he began to sing “I Will Follow You” by Ricky Nelson, followed by "The Wedding” by Julie Rogers". He was smiling as he sang. My sister and I were trying unsuccessfully to hide our tears. He was out after 2 hours, safe but visibly weak.

"Life is an hourglass that drips blood instead of sand... and we can't just turn it around and start over. Every drop matters. Every moment is a gift."

2. Thursday, 6th December 2012 - I finally printed some family photos to show my dad and he was really happy to see the photo both of us took together on 26th October 2012, right after he shaved his head bald. As I looked back now, I realise that this was just before his condition took a drastic turn for the worse.

“We're more alike than I realize. I'm 35 and he is 63. In 28 years, I'll be the same age as my dad when this photo was taken. That's not a lot of time.”

3. Sunday, 9th December 2012 - Dad was discharged from Changi General Hospital and I was pushing him out of the room in a wheelchair. As we exited the room into the main corridor of ward 19,  he started waving goodbyes to all the nurses. This was so beautiful to me and it’s an image that will forever be in my mind. I probably didn’t have a direct view of his smile, but somehow I knew it was a beautiful smile and I knew that he was really happy even though he was in pain.

Dad was delighted to finally be able to go home after 14 days of laying in bed 28 without fresh air. He was bedridden for 11 of those 14 days. And for the 3 days prior to his discharge, he was only able to walk with assistance, from his bed to the entrance of the hospital room and back. This was probably less than 6 meters in all and he would be visibly exhausted after each walk.

Happiness really is a choice. I seldom see my dad smiling. In fact, my most lucid memories of him have always been tainted by sadness and anger. I had always know him as being stern, sad and angry. I had always been judgmental of him and it was only during this trying period that I saw with such clarity another side of him that has always been there.