Suffering – what growing up has taught me
As a child, like any other child, I never truly understood ‘suffering’. I thought that suffering constituted things like bullying, feeling ill and being in trouble with the parents. But 2011 has really opened my eyes.
It has been confirmed that my grandmother has terminal stomach cancer. What is most heartbreaking is the shattering of hope amongst the family. Ever since her stay in hospital began around 3 months ago, we were never able to confirm the diagnosis as either a particularly nasty stomach ulcer or stomach cancer. She has been in ICU for all 3 months and as the days wore on, the doctors thought it more and more likely that it was not cancer, arguing that a terminal patient at her age would not be able to endure all that she had been put through…and she has been put through a lot.
Perhaps it was cruel to instil hope of a recovery in my grandmother, because in ICU, tubes were pushed through her airways amongst others, causing immense discomfort. At every hospital visit, she would express the gross pain she was in (through shaky words by weakening hands) and profess that she would prefer death. Yet she’d still inquire about the futility of her condition, fearing that we were lying when we claimed that it was only a nasty ulcer, and hence all of her suffering would not be in vain. The doctors all reassured us that the chances of cancer were slim to none, so under such circumstances, we gave her the best medicines which kept her alive, and we allowed her to undergo painful breathing exercises in the hope that it would soon let her come off the breathing machine and out of ICU. She was often in silent tears when we visited from the pain, and each time we would ensure her that it would be worth it and that she would be out of there in no time. Indeed, her will to survive and bravery in the face of immense physical torture is something I hugely respect…
So it was all the more painful for us when that fateful gastroscope confirmed the worst, leaving only the bitter aftertaste of guilt and despair. This was suffering.
My grandmother’s episode massively impacted my mother, who I saw wither over the past few months. She has little tolerance for such things and in her fight to stay afloat, has became understandably depressed and angry, resulting in tension within family life and a perpetual pessimism in all that she does. When she is not crying, she is sighing, impossibly tired or lamenting.
Yet more horrifying is the thought that much/most of the pain is actually still to come, when my grandmother begins her final days. Thinking of this makes me truly question humanity and life, and it becomes clear why people might doubt the existence of a benevolent God. The doctors have given her a few weeks (to a few months maximum) left.
I am conscious to try to maintain the optimism and ambition I had a couple of months ago. There is much that is beautiful and worthy of exploration by a young graduate like myself, eager to see and experience the world, though it is difficult to prevent other experiences from colouring these thoughts.
First and foremost, I think of those who love me and I look at my wonderful boyfriend sleeping beside me now as I sit typing this post in bed at 3.58am. I know he would do anything for me, and it pains him to see me like this. It also hurts to think that my new job will take me 11,000km away from his side to South-East Asia for over 2 years. My guardian angel can no longer watch over and guide me, I’ll miss our discussions of the path that is life over poorly cooked dinners in poorly furbished college kitchens, he can no longer be that undying source of warmth and safety (and hugs) – someone who I can curl up to at the end of a long day, and I can let my guard down with.
Though we will both work towards surviving the next few years with the relationship in tact, and no doubt the first few months settling into foreign, unfamiliar surroundings will be painful, when I will miss and need him the most, will the routine and humming rhythm of daily life eventually push what we have now to the back of my thoughts? My heart physically pains at the thought of parting, about how this is the last time I can hang out all day in dorms, just enjoying his company and basking in his love.
Things will change as I venture into the world of work and he stays to complete the next stage of his medicine degree and qualifying as a doctor, will we grow apart? Will we last? Though the answers are unknown, what is certain is that whatever happens, it won’t be easy, I can see the tears and feel the pain already. Once again, I look at his sleeping figure and pray for the future, pray for my grandmother and the alleviation of her physical distress and pray for my mother and uncle, whose burden is unimaginable in this difficult time.
