Diary of a dying man

The fear of death

I admit that I suffer from acrophobia (fear of heights) and cynophobia (fear of dogs) but I agree on one specific point with the rest of the "normal" people and that is that I am really afraid of death.

As I have already told you, I grew up raised by my mother and grandparents, after my biological father ran away/disappeared (in short, he didn't have the balls to be a family man) I grew up in a home with a lot of love? Yes, sometimes (many times) I argued with my mother, mainly because we both have the same kind of explosive temperament, so our differences of opinions, used to trigger arguments sometimes for very trivial things and sometimes because we lacked an outlet to let out frustration, anger, or any negative emotions

I kept taking random things from my box and found three things, which give rise to this chapter. A photograph with my first cousin Eunice (one of the few people on my father's side that I liked), the bracelet my grandfather wore when he was last hospitalized and the remembrance card we had printed when we held my grandmother's one month mass.

Just to give context to the situation, from now on, I will refer to my grandfather as my dad and my grandmother as "Mimi" because for me, they were my closest family figures, while my biological father, I will just call him "Javier", because I don't think he deserves more recognition. Anyway, after seeing Eunice's picture, I was very nostalgic and curious, because it was taken when I was 3 years old and we had met for Christmas at my godmother's house. In the photo, Eunice and I were hugging each other as if we had almost been born together, with smiles of happiness that showed how happy we were at that time.

We did not see each other again for I think 20 years, because our realities were completely different and we no longer frequented my godmother's house (who was her aunt) because of some kind of argument between adults, which affected us and caused the estrangement. However, that last time we met, I saw her looking beautiful, she was 8 months pregnant and although I knew her partner by sight, Eunice was dazzling. At that moment I really began to believe that it was true that women become more beautiful with pregnancy, because her eyes reflected an enormous happiness. I placed my hand on her belly with fear, because I did not know how to proceed and the baby inside my cousin began to move as I started to talk to her, as if she could understand my words and felt confident with her uncle.

With his partner, however, the reality was different. Since I was a child, I have had a kind of ability... a sixth sense if you will, and when a person does not inspire confidence in me, it is because they are really hiding something or they are an unpleasant person who should not get close to anyone... and that is how it was. After that meeting with Eunice, we did not see each other again, because she gave birth to a very beautiful baby girl (they sent me a picture by msn at that time) and months later, my cousin passed away due to anemia and respiratory complications, leaving my niece in the hands of her partner. The day of the wake I was present and noticed many things that I would not have wanted to see, his partner and his family, drinking and partying as if nothing had happened, displaying vulgar language that should not be used at least for a matter of respect, considering that there were children in the place. He seemed to me a lumpen of the worst and my distrust was founded, because some time later, I discovered that the guy was beating Eunice, having caused fractures on more than one occasion and took the money for the vitamins for her pregnancy, to spend it on marijuana and cocaine. I will not question here, the reason why Eunice did not break that relationship or not, but to date I have not heard anything from my niece, she must be 12 or 13 years old by now and I do not even want to imagine the fate that awaits her in that family environment.

Afterwards, I had to deal with the death of my "Mimi", although there is no basis for what I will say, I feel guilty because I think that by launching the theory that she had cancer, I somehow tempted fate and my wild prognosis came true. The only "good" thing about losing "Mimi" was that she did not suffer the horrible pain that cancer patients must endure... she survived one day after the diagnosis and went.... in her sleep, hand in hand with my mom, who was deeply affected by that moment.... I don't think there is any child in the world, who would consciously want to see their parent die, it is probably just as painful as it would be for a parent to see a child die.....

The death of "Mimi" and the depressive crisis that it triggered 30 days later, were the first two slaps that death gave me... but I still had two more to experience

My dad had always been an active smoker, there was not a day that went by that he did not smoke 10 or 15 cigarettes and tried to hide the smell with halls that he always carried in his pocket and that I took with me just because I liked those little candies, however, that little by little degenerated into COPD (Chronic Pulmonary Emphysema) which in turn caused lung cancer and fibrosis, in addition to high blood pressure. If it was complicated for my dad to survive without his lifelong companion, after "Mimi" left, it was even more so, as he felt his body deteriorate.

I am an eyewitness of how much he suffered... I am an eyewitness of seeing him depend on an oxygen balloon to breathe, of slowly losing the mobility of his legs and becoming more fragile, of slowly wearing out until he finally had to be hospitalized on emergency... actually, I forced him to be hospitalized because his symptoms worried me and I did not know how to take care of him, so I called the ambulance to check him and I convinced him to accept to be treated.

Perhaps, it is too much to summarize everything that happened during this time... but I cannot go into details because at this very moment, tears are flooding my eyes and it is hard for me to concentrate. The day before my dad passed away, I was with him in the hospital, to be honest, I didn't want to stay there that night, I had again a very unpleasant feeling, very.... like something inside me was going to break and I stayed with him until the doctor's examination was over and he was no longer responsive. At that moment I was terrified... I took his hand and just dropped it, took it again and had the same response. My fear, my desperation was increasing by leaps and bounds, so with a broken voice I called him one more time...then he woke up for a moment. I kissed him on the forehead and told him how much I love him, how proud and happy I was that he was my dad and that he was the best father anyone could ever wish for, that seemed to make him very happy and he fell back to sleep.

Distressed, I called the nurse, because my dad seemed to be leaving before my eyes and I wanted to avoid that moment, I wanted him to stay by my side, but the nurse let out a series of words that made me feel that Tyson had reappeared and had connected a series of blows to me, leaving me on the floor without sense: "Young man, prepare for the worst".... I remember his face perfectly, I remember his tone of voice, I even remember his hair color and his black eyes when he told me... the funny thing about this and before I continue with the story, was that after he left the room, just a few seconds later, I went out the door trying to process what he had told me... but of the nurse who had checked my dad... not a trace, it was as if there was no sign of her.... no sign of her, it was as if she hadn't been there. I returned to my dad's side who was still unresponsive again, kissed him many times on the forehead and stroked his silver hair and hands, before saying goodbye for the night, the thought of "prepare for the worst" echoing in my head. Almost on the way to the elevators to leave, there was a grotto with an image of the Lord of Miracles (to whom my dad had always been devoted) and I, an atheist at the time, desperate not knowing what to do, got down on my knees and prayed... prayed like I had never prayed before and begged in tears to take my dad away.... I did not want to see him suffer anymore, a gentleman like him did not deserve to suffer and I selfishly tried to wake him up so that he would stay by my side. I prayed, prayed and prayed for almost half an hour... but in my mind echoed "what if tomorrow morning I come first thing and they tell me that my dad passed away?"

That night I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning in my bed, with the nurse's voice echoing in my head. When I managed to half fall asleep, I had a nightmare in which I heard the same voice over and over again. When I woke up, I almost automatically got dressed and went to Rebagliati Hospital. Since I was informed that I had to wait as the doctors were making their check-up visits to the patients, I had no choice but to go to a nearby internet booth and buy some time. Call it a coincidence if you want, but that morning, April 4, 2008, I wrote to my friend Halford (Peruwrestling) and informed him that my dad had just passed away. I didn't know, or anything... I just had to say it because I had the nurse's voice echoing in my head. Once again my fateful prognosis was fulfilled... upon arriving at the hospital 30 minutes later, I was ushered into the head doctor's office and given the news that my dad had died. You will understand the pain that gripped me at that moment, not to mention that Tyson reappeared to finish me off on the floor. My mind went into shock, I was trying to process everything and my conscious side knew that I was now the man of the house and my responsibility was to let my mother know that her dad had passed away...worse yet...that I had left him to die alone.

I will not delve into details of what happened afterwards, as these are things I prefer to keep to myself... I will only say that I have blanks where I remember absolutely nothing of what I said or did. Until that day, I smoked one or two cigarettes a day and since that April 4, 2008 at 9:32 am, I quit smoking for good. Today... almost 12 years later, I have never touched a cigarette again nor will I ever again. Maybe that being my dad's last gift to me, to keep me from going through everything he went through.

The third time I faced death, it was very recently, actually I do not remember exactly the date (I am terrible at remembering dates) but cancer was reiterative in my family. Of my "Mimi's" family, I only liked a few people. Among those people were my 3 great aunts, Aunt Flor, Aunt Helen and Aunt Gladys... however, the first to go would be Aunt Gladys. She had to suffer a lot and the disease kept her connected to machines until the last day of her life, extending it for a few more days, which in my opinion, was unnecessary, because it caused her more pain. The day of the wake and the funeral were overwhelming for me, my mother did go to the funeral and I did not have the courage to do it. I tried to keep calm all the time and when I left, I passed by the float where Aunt Gladys' coffin was, then I felt the tears wanting to come out, I walked away while my mother got on the bus that would take her to the cemetery to attend the burial and I stood watching from a corner while the cortege left, I wanted everyone to leave and return to my house with the tears running to let my pain out... but an aunt of mine, approached me to invite me to take me in her car to my house. I didn't have the use of reason to tell her that I wanted to be alone, so I choked my pain inside my chest.

The fatal flaw in my family is that we have always considered that death would take us all together, but death has shown us that it does not work like that... I am not afraid to die myself, but I am afraid to see the people I love die... if death comes for me, I will welcome it as an old friend and I will go with pleasure, but if it comes first for the people I care about, then I will remain frozen and will not know how to react, showing once again the fear that its mere presence can instill.

Of everything I have in the box, the photo with Eunice, my father's medical bracelet and the photo of my great aunts, are part of the things I will keep, because they are things I want to keep in my life. Tomorrow I will continue going through the box and discarding memories, maybe I will keep some of them.