I decided on the title of this post before I even knew what I was going to write about. The general mood in my family is gloomy. My youngest sister, Baby, is at the ICU, and when people ask me what she’s being cured of, it’s difficult to give a short reply. We’re all either crying or holding back tears, either eager to see her during visiting hours or dreading it because of all the machines we know she would be hooked to. Writing a blog entry is usually cathartic but this one is especially difficult given the precariousness of this family matter. Another family member, my niece Mika, will be undergoing a medical procedure miles away in Australia. Baby would have been the one to take care of Mika and her siblings during this period had circumstances been more favourable to her. I can hear the wheels in my sister’s brain running to her nephews and niece, as she teeters between life and death — on the one hand wanting the pain to end and on the other, wanting more time with the children.
I have been sorely amiss in taking care of her as well. She thinks that I’m finding her a burden. I thought that being hard on her would make her stronger — angry with me and eager to fight. We’re both wrong. I had been temporarily engrossed with personal matters and how inconvenient it was with work but now I know I’m wrong. Work is the last thing I need to worry about. Work can fuck itself for all I care. I’m sticking with my family and everything else will have to deal with it.
I guess I’m angry with myself. For making my sister think something else was more important than her. Nothing is but I thought that the money I earned would help make her happy. Without it, we’d have been two poor allies, licking each other’s wounds at every beating we got for not having a job or not wanting to move up in rank. I thought that I could be the money-earning half and she’d have some of what she wants courtesy of what I earn. I became concentrated on the word “poor” and disregarded “allies.” We have each other’s back. What can be more important than that? Especially given the crisis she’s having.
For all my guilt feelings, I still have some hope that she would get up and be the pink-loving fashionista that she used to be. She would come to my work place and ask me to treat her to lunch. We’d see an item she likes and I would offer to buy it for her. She’d look all excited but hesitant but if I have the money, she’d go home enjoying her new thingy.
As of this final paragraph, my sister’s hooked to a respirator and doctors don’t think we should prolong her agony. We’ve had a good cry and imagined the worse. My sister knows that whether she decides to go or stay, she’s precious and loved, and definitely not a burden.
I think she should stay and fight. We have her back.
I love you, Baby.