apprehension

the doctor called me back into the room after we walked out. shit, this can't be good. she went into a rather loud talk about how the medicine should be taken. she is making no sense. then i realise it was because the door hasn't closed fully yet.

when the door was shut, she explained to me that there could be two conditions that is causing the stiffness in mum's hands; some kind of nerve lession and ..... parkinson's. i can't believe what i was hearing. all the while in my brain was the conscious thought that she is out there and probably very worried about the doctor calling me back into the room. the words that the doctor was saying is not going into my brain. it is just a probability. but not one that i want to hear or believe in. when the doctor told her that she must have a brain mri earlier, her eyes were already glazed and suspiciously red. it is only a possibility, and we need to see if she responds to the medicine for 2 weeks, so there is no reason to frighten her for the time being. meanwhile, i am terrible frightened, and shocked.

as i exit from the room, i must put on a brave face and pretend all the doctor told me was instructions on how to take the medicine. she kept asking me. my mother has always been amazingly sharp. i stuck to my story. she kept asking. i kept repeating. inside, nobody knows the turmoil building inside. the fear. the loneliness. i had to face it all alone. this doesn't surprise me, that has been and always be the story of my life. i must get use to it. sometimes when my thoughts drift back to all the scary possiblities, on the reflection of what the doctor has told me, i had to pull myself back all immediately, so that she will not perceive the change in my mood. why was all this thrust on me and just me alone? i wasn't prepared. i couldn't text anyone. i couldn't call anyone. bro called just as i was picking up the medicine. i couldn't talk, i couldn't tell him. i told him later, i was busy. thank goodness it was the correct timing.

it will seem that i always face each hurdle with a lack of emotion, an alien sense of detachment, just so that i can carry out the process of caring, of taking care and giving emotional support. i could not indulge in grieving, in deliberating, otherwise i will break down myself. i stop myself from thinking, from feeling. that is the only way i can continue.

this will be the first time that we do not want the medication to work. the only time when its ineffectiveness spells good news. but, after that, then what? where do we go from here? it's going to be a very long road. and we can only take it one step at a time.