Father is critically ill

Father's Day is here. It’s another Father’s Day without a father.

“A son wants to be raised but his relatives are not there.” After so many years, the pain caused by his father’s death still arises in my heart from time to time. No matter how old a person is, as long as his parents are still there, he always feels that he is still a child with parental care. Once your parents are gone, no matter how successful your career is, you will often feel like something is missing, and you will often feel like you are living like a rootless weed.

On Father’s Day, it seems like I should write something to commemorate it. However, my mind was quite restless and I couldn't write anything. So I dug out an old article and talked about it.

My father was lying in the intensive care unit, breathless.

A gastric juice drainage tube was inserted from the nostril into the stomach. The mouth was sealed tightly with tape, and the ventilator tube was inserted into the trachea from the mouth. Every time he took a breath, he made a terrifying and loud sound. A hole was made in the neck and an IV tube was buried in the carotid artery. On the belly, a knife edge that is more than a foot long resembles a giant centipede, which is shocking. On the left side of the wound, abdominal fluid drainage tubes were inserted into two small holes. On the right side of the wound, a large blood-red hole was opened, which was the artificial anus. In comparison, the ureter is very comfortable.

Modern medicine is really weird. It almost treats people like machines for repair. The father at this moment looked like a Frankenstein created by a crazy professor, and he was too miserable to look at.

In less than a month, the 76-year-old father had already undergone three laparotomy operations. If he hadn't been in good health, he might have died long ago. My father, who used to have a hot temper and a booming voice, and was nicknamed "Zhang Dahan", now has messy hair, a haggard face, and a pair of tearful eyes looking at me pitifully. My heart was pounding, but I could only watch my father suffer without being able to share the slightest bit of pain.

I can't help but think that people come to this world once and they are just passing by. No matter how great you are, sooner or later you will die. There are very few people who can truly die without a disease. The vast majority of people will die slowly due to long-term illness and painful struggle. Alas, sometimes I think about it, rather than dying of torture, it would be better to die suddenly in an unexpected disaster.

What my father has is not an incurable disease, but a leaky gut. However, Qingbaijiang District Hospital misdiagnosed it as a hernia. As a result, the abdominal wound was opened too wide, which made my father's condition worse, and he had to be transferred to the Chengdu Military Region General Hospital. When my father was first sent to the military hospital, because he was too old and too seriously ill, the hospital was afraid of getting into trouble and refused to admit him because there were no beds. My father lay helpless in the ambulance and moaned in pain. When he couldn't bear the pain, he grabbed my hand and said, "Please, let me die by euthanasia!"

I was shocked, and of course I couldn't agree.

I tried every possible means to find an acquaintance, and the hospital reluctantly accepted her. But we were warned that my father's condition was very serious and would require huge expenses, and that we might end up with nothing.

A relative advised: "You still have a family, if it doesn't work, just forget it." I was very angry and immediately said that I must try my best and we will figure out the money problem ourselves. When the money runs out and there is really no other option, we as children will at least feel at ease.

At that time, I felt that my behavior was normal, because the traditional Chinese concept is that "as long as there is a little hope, you must try your best." However, seeing my father struggling on the verge of death in front of me, I couldn't help but start to wonder if I was really helping my father. I prolonged my father's pain, is that really filial piety? Will my father resent my stubbornness and cold-bloodedness in his agony?

Pity, pain, helplessness, sorrow, self-blame, and shame are like layers of thick cocoons, wrapping me tightly and making me breathless...