Guilt

My whole life changed on 20 September 2003.

Before that I was probably a self-centred, immature, spoilt boy who was full of himself but who had in truth little direction in life.

Maybe I still am, but I think it would be alright to say that I have been making an effort to change.

Anyway back to the topic. Can you think of another person who would still wait for his cancer-stricken mother to make him breakfast at 6 am? Anyone who still depended on someone who was exhausted from repeated chemotherapy sessions to wake him up so that he wouldn't be late for school? Anyone who went out to have fun and wasn't contactable when his mother collapsed at home?

This is a very dark part of my past that till now I have not revealed to anyone, because I am so ashamed, so disappointed that I had let those events come to pass. I still don't have guts to tell this to my closest friends up front. Such cowardice eh?

When it was first discovered my mother had cancer, I was 11. My parents had decided amongst themselves that I should not know the details of her diagnosis till later when they felt I was more mature to handle the information. It was also because the cancer was discovered early, and she had a good chance of cure, so they figured that it would be counter-productive to give me such a scare.

At that point in time I was only aware that my mother required surgery for something and that after that she would be fine. Quite close to the mark really, except that obviously I didn't know then what I know now- the full extent of my mother's condition, and the complications that could have occurred- and the complications that eventually did.

So when my mother started to experience loss of weight, loss of appetite and abdominal bloating, I was actually very taken aback but because of previously said immaturity, sunk into denial and treated everything as if nothing had happened. Then, when it eventually came to a point when I was forced to face up to reality, I backed away, choosing to naively believe that my mother would, like before, go thorugh something that the doctor ordered and come away as good as before. No interruptions to life.

This idiotic manner of thinking stayed with me all the way till the day my mother collapsed at home while I was out watching a movie.At this point many people woul, I believe, have screamed into my face: "why weren't you at her side? why didn't you look after her when she was sick?" I can only say that I chose not to care, chose not to see that my mother was withering away in front of me, chose rather to believe that my mother was just "going through a phase of illness" and that she would get better soon without any help from me. Or probably, I was too lazy and self-absorbed to lift a finger.

Obviously when I got home, I got one of the biggest shellings of my life from my dad. Even then I didn't flinch, such was my dissociation from the situation. It was only in the car, when we were driving to the hospital, when for the first time in my life I saw my dad weep openly in front of me and wailing his disappointment, that i snapped back to the real world.

At the hospital, everything came to a head when my eyes fell upon my barely conscious mother on her ward bed. As all my relatives trained their eyes on me, it was as if nothing else matter to me when I ran to my mother's side and started bawling my eyes out, apologizing for what a failure of a son I had been. My mother, barely conscious at the time, still summoned the strength to lift her hand and stroke my head. It only served to make me cry even more.

She made it through that episode, and after she was discharged I swore to take care of her as I rightfully should. However, as her condition got better, I started to lapse into the lackadaiscal attitude of before. Perhaps seeing her improve so much made me complacent, believe that it was alright not to do so much anymore. So, so wrong.

A very unfortunate turn of events led to my mother stopping her chemotherapy as her cancer was on the retreat, and months her tumour markers had risen rapidly and her tummy swollen again. I again retreated back into my shell as I heard the doctor tell us that she would have to be started on even stronger chemotherapy drugs.

Two weeks after her first dose of the revised intensive chemotherapy, my mother passed away. My father and I were by her side as she took her last breaths on her bed at home, at 9:30 am.

When her heart stopped, I didn't even blink.

During her funeral wake of 5 days, I acted as if I was handling the situation very well, Talking rather calmly with guests, relatives and friends who had come to pay their respects.

At the very last, when my mother's coffin was rolled into the incinerator for the cremation, All barriers were broken down, and I could not contain my tears. after that, I don't remember what happened for the rest of the day.

Why do I say all this?

One reason is that I am looking for forgiveness from somewhere, that I am repenting but still tormented by this period of my life. The scars will not wither, and I cannot help but constantly think that I had in my utter selfishness and reusal to pluck up enough courage to accept the truth, caused my mother to die.

The other reason is that the real reason for me wanting to become a doctor is because of all this. Because of what had happened to my mother, and my guilt for not having done what I could.

I know in my heart that my mother has definitely felt my pain and forgiven me, such is her blessed good nature. But I have never found the space in my heart to forgive myself. I hope someday I will. And I hope when the time comes, the special person I am waiting for in this life will come to hear this story and forgive me too.

But for now, I try to be a good doctor, so that others can and will not have to face what I have faced before. Fate has determined that I receive nuturing from such a good mother, but has also deemed necessary for me to have her taken from me prematurely, to truly appreciate the depth and unconditional nature of her love. It pains me that I had to leave it so late to see it.

I am so grateful for you mom, but so sorry that I never truly cared till it was too late. So sorry.