Death in the Family
April 27, 2007
By Val G. Abelgas
MANILA -- A family tragedy has brought me back to the homeland this week, a hurried and very brief visit that I had always dreaded to make. My older brother died from complications of kidney failure Wednesday after fighting bravely for about 75 days at the Kidney Center, during which time he ebbed in and out of the throes of death and celebrated his 60th birthday in the presence of loving family and friends.
On the very first news that he was rushed to the Kidney Center because of extreme internal bleeding and breathing problems in mid-January, I suspected it was just a matter of time. But my brother Jun loved his family so much that he was not ready to leave them, and so decided to fight back. He was in and out of the ICU and tubes were stuck to his body to drain the blood in his stomach and the fluid in his lungs, and to help him take in oxygen.
On his birthday on February 7, he appeared winning his battle against the inevitable. He was up and about, cheerful in the presence of his wife, children, our 83-year-old mother, my brothers and sisters who were in the Philippines, other relatives and friends. The four of us brothers who lived abroad called to greet him, as we all did regularly throughout his 75-day ordeal. His voice was low and his speech was slow, but he sounded optimistic he would be out of the hospital soon. In fact, a physical therapist was helping him learn to walk again in anticipation of his full recovery.
But the bleeding came again and fluid started drowning his lungs again after a day or two, and he was back again in the ICU fighting for his life. For about 50 more agonizing days, he alternately hovered between hopeful and hopeless, and the situation drained him and his family physically and emotionally, not to mention financially because the hospital bill had exceeded the P1 million mark and still growing.
He couldn’t talk in his last few days because a respirator was stuck to his throat, but he appeared cheerful and still hopeful each time family and friends visited him. Then one night, he suffered a series of seizures and was soon declared brain dead. Doctors tried to revive him and after several attempts, told his wife he would never wake up although a respirator kept him alive.
The family was put in a situation thousands of families had gone through before -- a situation that asks the living to decide for the dying, whether he would be allowed to hang on and hope for a miracle, or to pull the plug and let the patient finally find peace and relief. Although all of those who were around knew there was not much choice, nobody was willing to pull the plug, until Fr. Sonny Ramirez, a longtime family friend, told them Jun need not suffer anymore and that it was time to let him go in the grace of the Lord.
His wife called us four brothers who were abroad one by one before they pulled the plug, and with the cell phone placed on Jun’s ear, we said our last goodbyes, hoping that deep inside his frail and nearly lifeless body, he would hear our loving and comforting words one last time.
It was one of the saddest moments in my life, giving me the same pain as when my father died in 1996 and I couldn’t be with him in his last moments. Jun was the nice guy in our large family, and we all looked up to him as our second father – always ready to listen to our problems and always ready to extend a helping hand.
But I know that he was happy to have realized how his wife, children, mother, brothers, sisters and friends loved him. His wife and children stayed him all the time, and my mother and brothers and sisters came to visit him daily at the hospital, and those of us who couldn’t, spoke to him regularly through long distance phone. His friends from way back dropped by to cheer him up.
My three brothers in Australia and Saudi Arabia, and I who live in California, decided we have to be with Jun before he is finally laid to rest, and despite tough booking problems, we all managed to be there one day before the funeral. And for the first time in many years, we were all together – not just to mourn, but to celebrate the happy and meaningful life that my brother spent in this world.
His death brought us together again, and I know that there in the great beyond, Jun shared that joy. Each death, like all tragedies, strengthens the survivor, for whom life must move on, left with nothing but the wonderful memories of the departed.
Farewell, my dear brother. May you rest in eternal peace.
(valabelgas@aol.com)
By Val G. Abelgas
MANILA -- A family tragedy has brought me back to the homeland this week, a hurried and very brief visit that I had always dreaded to make. My older brother died from complications of kidney failure Wednesday after fighting bravely for about 75 days at the Kidney Center, during which time he ebbed in and out of the throes of death and celebrated his 60th birthday in the presence of loving family and friends.
On the very first news that he was rushed to the Kidney Center because of extreme internal bleeding and breathing problems in mid-January, I suspected it was just a matter of time. But my brother Jun loved his family so much that he was not ready to leave them, and so decided to fight back. He was in and out of the ICU and tubes were stuck to his body to drain the blood in his stomach and the fluid in his lungs, and to help him take in oxygen.
On his birthday on February 7, he appeared winning his battle against the inevitable. He was up and about, cheerful in the presence of his wife, children, our 83-year-old mother, my brothers and sisters who were in the Philippines, other relatives and friends. The four of us brothers who lived abroad called to greet him, as we all did regularly throughout his 75-day ordeal. His voice was low and his speech was slow, but he sounded optimistic he would be out of the hospital soon. In fact, a physical therapist was helping him learn to walk again in anticipation of his full recovery.
But the bleeding came again and fluid started drowning his lungs again after a day or two, and he was back again in the ICU fighting for his life. For about 50 more agonizing days, he alternately hovered between hopeful and hopeless, and the situation drained him and his family physically and emotionally, not to mention financially because the hospital bill had exceeded the P1 million mark and still growing.
He couldn’t talk in his last few days because a respirator was stuck to his throat, but he appeared cheerful and still hopeful each time family and friends visited him. Then one night, he suffered a series of seizures and was soon declared brain dead. Doctors tried to revive him and after several attempts, told his wife he would never wake up although a respirator kept him alive.
The family was put in a situation thousands of families had gone through before -- a situation that asks the living to decide for the dying, whether he would be allowed to hang on and hope for a miracle, or to pull the plug and let the patient finally find peace and relief. Although all of those who were around knew there was not much choice, nobody was willing to pull the plug, until Fr. Sonny Ramirez, a longtime family friend, told them Jun need not suffer anymore and that it was time to let him go in the grace of the Lord.
His wife called us four brothers who were abroad one by one before they pulled the plug, and with the cell phone placed on Jun’s ear, we said our last goodbyes, hoping that deep inside his frail and nearly lifeless body, he would hear our loving and comforting words one last time.
It was one of the saddest moments in my life, giving me the same pain as when my father died in 1996 and I couldn’t be with him in his last moments. Jun was the nice guy in our large family, and we all looked up to him as our second father – always ready to listen to our problems and always ready to extend a helping hand.
But I know that he was happy to have realized how his wife, children, mother, brothers, sisters and friends loved him. His wife and children stayed him all the time, and my mother and brothers and sisters came to visit him daily at the hospital, and those of us who couldn’t, spoke to him regularly through long distance phone. His friends from way back dropped by to cheer him up.
My three brothers in Australia and Saudi Arabia, and I who live in California, decided we have to be with Jun before he is finally laid to rest, and despite tough booking problems, we all managed to be there one day before the funeral. And for the first time in many years, we were all together – not just to mourn, but to celebrate the happy and meaningful life that my brother spent in this world.
His death brought us together again, and I know that there in the great beyond, Jun shared that joy. Each death, like all tragedies, strengthens the survivor, for whom life must move on, left with nothing but the wonderful memories of the departed.
Farewell, my dear brother. May you rest in eternal peace.
(valabelgas@aol.com)
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