Wednesday, 9 May 2012

A Series of Unfortunate Events (Late Post)

I couldn't think of a more fitting title.

Last March 18, 2012, Sunday, my father was rushed to the hospital because of heart attack. When I reached the hospital, he was already unconscious and was just assisted with a breathing apparatus.  I wasn't able to talk to him anymore. He was in coma for two days. His breathing and heartbeat were just possible because of the respirator and medicine. The doctors urged us to just "pull the plug" since he was not showing any signs of recovery and even if he managed to breathe on his own, the damage in his brain was irreversible and thus he would forever be a worthless vegetable.

On March 20, Tuesday, with hearts sunk, we did what we thought would be best for all of us. We let the hospital took off all his medical apparatus and signed a waiver that Papa would not be revived when his heart failed. We said our goodbyes to him but we believed, even up to now, that he's in a better place now. The disappointments and stresses of his earthly life were now gone.

Just when we thought that everything was at it's worst, something much worse happened.

My brother, just 22 years old, had a sudden change of behavior about 2-3 days before my father's interment. He started believing that he was the Messiah. He never stopped talking. He didn't sleep for two straight days. He ate very little. He was very insistent on being a Mason and studying in Harvard. He believed that he has an IQ comparable to Einstein. He felt that he would rule the world. The timid, isolated boy was now in euphoria, talking non-stop and nonsense to every person he saw. He had suicidal and murderous thoughts. Because of these, the family decided to bring him to a psychiatrist right after my father's burial. The doctor's diagnosis was that he needed to be institutionalized because he was showing signs of psychosis. After a week of observation and symptoms treatment, he was diagnosed with BIPOLAR DISORDER.

Confirming my brother's mental disorder was shocking and disheartening for all of us. I, for one, didn't have any first-hand experience with mentally handicapped people or the sorts. We did not know anyone in the family who has one. This was the kind of illness I never thought my family would ever experience.

He was just 22 years old. He had his whole life ahead of him. We used to dream a lot about how we would have a good life when we start earning our own money. Then, in just a blink of an eye, all of those came running downhill, disappearing into a black hole of hopelessness.

I miss my dad. Now, I am missing my brother. The partner I thought I could depend on in this time of crisis abandoned me. I felt a betrayal. I am mad. I want to get mad at my brother for being weak. I didn't know why all of these had to happen one after the other. I tried looking for the bad things that me and my family did and tried to comprehend if we really deserved this. A lot of things went on and on in my head but I couldn't let other people see it. I couldn't be weak because there's just my Mom and I left. I needed to be strong for her.

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