“I Want My Father to Die Already”

“Good morning, Sir!” the guards greeted me as I arrived at the hospital’s entrance. Their familiarity with me as a visitor is becoming sadder each day, as my father still lies on his hospital bed waiting for his death.

One of the guards asked about when the patient at Room 211 will get out perhaps noticing that I have been in and out regularly.

“I do not know,” I answered honestly. 

Last Friday marks the third week that my father has been admitted to the hospital, only a week shorter of his last confinement in August 2017. And the more he stays there, the more our hospital bill balloons and the more my father suffers.

In my visit today, I have noticed the difference of my father’s condition from the first day he was confined. He is now in his weakest state – he could no longer mobilize his lower body and he is not powerful enough to grab anything by his hand. 

I know he does not want to give up on his life. At the same time, he wants to end the suffering.

But at this point, all we could do is wait. For his death. This is me being blunt. 

My sister was in the hospital today, in charge of taking care of our father since last night. I came in the morning for the shift.  

She told me about my father mumbling, in the middle of the night, a name of his friend that he seems to call. But that friend, Tito Rufo, has already passed away due to heart attack about this time last year. 

I felt shivers down my spine when my sister told me that story. Was it a sign that our father will soon pass away?

When I and my father were left alone in the room as my sister left, I locked the door to have some moment with him. I started to talk, already sobbing at the sight of my father’s condition. 

“’Pa, you can rest now. We are all tired and I know you are too,” I said while holding his hand. I gathered some confidence before I was able to say this. 

 

He looked at me strangely in the eye, maybe surprised of what I uttered. I did not know what was running in his mind. 

My father looked away. I heard no response. And then there was me, still crying and grasping his hand.

His words are already incomprehensible, and when he did talk he struggled to breathe due to the condition of his lungs. I thought that must be the reason why he did not reply. 

Or maybe he was hungry but was too tired to say he was. Since last week, he drastically lost his appetite. 

In my intention to make it all easy for everyone, especially for my father, I really meant what I said. That Papa can already rest.

 

The entire family has already reached the point of acceptance. It has been a week since the doctor delivered the news that my father is less likely to survive this, granting that we stopped giving meds and my father refusing to undergo dialysis. 

Our hospital bill has already reached the Php150,000 mark. My mother and my older brother are taking care of it. They are borrowing some money from relatives while my father still is waiting for his (early) retirement benefits, now currently being processed.  

Now let me ask you: am I heartless enough to say that I want my father to die already - in the most peaceful way possible? Because it is difficult for me and the rest of the family to see him suffer like this, at a point where we could no longer do anything. I will feel a lot better when he is already with the Lord.