My most senior Lam, was admitted into hospital a little over 10 days ago. The preceding events itself that led to it had quite a bit of drama going on as well.
I was having a business lunch when my other half calls me to say that my father-in-law was not able to come out of his room for lunch. In fact, he could see from the back room window, that FIL was lying on the floor.
That morning, I had left the house for an early appointment, and FIL was unusually still sleeping. Normally he would be up at dawn doing his morning exercises. It seemed he had done his exercises much later that morning and had just urinated into his potty, hence why he had locked the door. And his legs gave way, so he sat on the floor unable to get up. Heaven knows how long he was sitting here before Mr Lam discovered him at lunch time. Probably a good two hours or more. Poor old man.
A feeling of dejavu sweeps over me as exactly the same scenario played out with mum. At the first sign of code blue, my other half calls ... me.
So instinctively I instructed him to open the door first, and told him where the key was kept. And in a vintage Mr Lam moment, and men being men, my other half can't find it. My business associate is looking me and my rising panic level (which I try hard to mask but unfortunately come off as looking terribly flustered) and wondering if things are under control.
I tell him all the possible nook and cranny the key could be in, within the two drawers where it is definitely kept. He cannot find it. Even though I tell him to pour everything out and try out every single key. And so he says perhaps I should get an ambulance. Especially since his brother, a doctor, cannot be reached. I tell him to get a locksmith first and at least check out how FIL is. Otherwise the ambulance guys can't get in anyway and would probably have to break down the door.
Fortunately, there's a locksmith barely 500 metres away at the shops nearby. The door is opened and I call the ambulance. I have to manage the situation by remote control from town so that things don't fall apart at home. When the ambulance arrives, they surmise that FIL might probably be in the throes of a stroke. But they are from the general hospital and can't send FIL to the private hospital where my brother-in-law works. Again, my other half calls me and asks how.
Well, just get him to a hospital, any hospital, and we work out from there. I don't know how ambulance policies work! (Later, I found out how.) It turns out that it would be rather complicated to admit FIL into general hospital and then readmit him into the private one we wanted. It made more sense to get a private ambulance (which they called for us), and go straight to Sentosa Hospital in KL. Which is what happened, after Mr Lam consulted me. (Later, he maintains that he was basically just keeping me in the loop, but it didn't feel like it at that time. Sure felt more like I was calling the shots. But never mind.)
First thing I did when I got home was to check the drawer and guess what was the first thing that greeted me? The key. Which Mr Lam maintains he tried but didn't work. Or maybe didn't see. Friends defend him and say that he was in a state of panic and therefore was not thinking straight. I am not so benevolent as I know, for someone who has shared a house with me for almost half my life, he can never find anything.
And so that was how FIL ended up in hospital, for a stroke that wasn't. Praise God there were no signs of bleeding or blood clot in his brain to indicate any stroke. And that his sudden weakness in his legs were more likely due to a viral infection. A better prognosis surely.
In the days that followed, the doctors managed to bring down his mild fever and seemingly bring the viral infection under control. It was really odd and even today, they can't quite explain why and how this happened, and why it affected FIL's legs.
One would think it would be less of a hassle not having an old person in the house. But I strangely missed FIL's presence, even though he largely kept his own schedule and did his own thing. I didn't have to prepare his breakfast and pills. And that felt odd. I didn't have to make sure there was lunch and dinner for him, and that was weird. And most of all, I missed seeing him reading the papers at the dining table, or even snoring away on his lounge chair.
Yesterday when we visited him, he seemed in good spirits and we thought he'd be back in a couple of weeks. His legs were weak but improving. But today, he seemed to have taken a dip in health, and was more tired and blur. The family briefly discusses what would be immediate step of care. I can't take care of FIL, not without a maid, and not with one that wasn't experienced with old folks. Mr Lam's other siblings also had difficulties. But to resort to the inevitable, which was placing FIL in a home, would surely kill him faster as he is such an independent person. At 90, he still does everything himself and has all his faculties about him. Being in a home without loved ones around would be depressing for him and surely a death knell.
We are faced with the inevitable. Because at 90, anything can happen. And again, I am faced with the possibility of being relieved of a burden which I never asked for. But it was one that I gladly, naturally took on without question. Many people have said that I am to be commended to take care of both my mum and FIL. But sometimes these are life choices which you cannot ignore or are simply thrust upon you without question.
And the daunting prospect of two funerals in a year, not withstanding the many farewells I had to bid to friends this same year alone, seem too much to bear.
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