Have you ever felt that life has already begun on being consumed?
When I was around six or seven, I had my first realization of life when I had an idea what death was. My uncle, around twenty-seven, died of cancer. Of course, at first I had no clue of what’s going on, my mother, and I frequented the nearby hospital to visit and see my uncle, whom I really didn’t have any close relationship with. There were only faint memories that I could gather, back then, of him not lying on a hospital bed with strange things poked all over his body. One day, we were at the hospital, my mother still talking to him, the next day, he’s dead. I couldn’t remember really how, at that time, at a very early age, I grasped the full concept of death. All I knew then was that he was gone, and he would never come back. I could still remember the wake, the lights, the coffin, the candles, the weird smell of flowers, and the strange things set up at my grandmother’s living room. But I never understood what would happen next for my uncle.
And then, at around that time …. one night, I was alone in my room, I can’t remember where my brothers were …. we used to share a room, all three of us but at that particular night, I was alone. When I closed my eyes, I couldn’t see anything but the dark, and then I would open my eyes again and then tried closing them again in an attempt to sleep but then the fear would start to creep in and cold shivers would wrap all around my fragile body … that could have been the feeling of death, I thought for myself, that is what a dead person would feel and I couldn’t stand it, I didn’t like the feeling so I cried. Then, I stood up from my bed, ran downstairs to my parents’ room, saw my mother, embraced her so tightly as if I’m about to be blown away by a strong wind. She asked me what was the matter, still crying, I told her, "I’m afraid to die."
*
Yesterday, when I was in the taxi, on my way to UERM to meet Tita Lorns, my mother, I began to think of a song that would be perfect for my funeral. The type of song that would make everyone feel or understand who you are not at the time that you were still living but at the time that you were already dead. What could you be saying seeing all those people who were special to you, looking at your lifeless body?
Another interesting thought that came to me was what would those people think or say once you’re dead. Maybe perhaps, mental scrapbooks of shared moments would start to play in their minds. Good memories, most of it.
At this time, I am no longer the little child that would ran off and cry when thinking of death. At this point, whether or not I’m ready for death, I don’t know but I think I am no longer afraid of it. All I could think is that it is bound to happen to all of us. It is just a matter of when and what kind of life you had lived.
*
When I arrived at the UERM, it was almost noon, Tita Lorns have already met Uncle Lino, my father’s cousin, who’s a resident doctor there. He referred us to an orthopedic doctor whom my uncle thinks would be the best person to look at my excruciating knee condition. It took ten decades and a half for the ortho to come and when I finally got the chance to see him, he referred me to another doctor, a urologist this time, when he found out about another condition that I had in the past concerning my urinary tract. He inferred that that could have been the real cause on why my right knee is swelling out of proportions. My urinary tract condition if gone untreated will not do any good even if he treats my knee.
So, me and Tita Lorns, went to see the urologist, who took another ten decades and a half to appear. It was already around five when we started to wait for doctor #2. Being in the hospital always made me feel uncomfortable …. the smell of the antiseptic, the rush of people and things, the obscure mixture of emotions coming from patients, relatives of the patients and the people who work there who seemed to have already gotten used to the things that were constantly bothering me at that day. It was the sound, the sight, and the smell of death. It is all around, no questions about it.
When doctor #2 finally came in, it was around seven, I was so infuriated due to the long wait, I could have bitten his head off but what can I do … I’m the patient, he is the doctor, even though, I am paying him, I need him.
We’d gone through the typical question and answer, after some questions got answered, he already knew where he was going, I was quite impressed to be honest, he knew exactly what was going on, and he knows the right questions. He knows more than about my condition than I do.
Then, he asked me to take my pants and underwear off, which in normal circumstances, I would gladly oblige with matching excitement mixed with a tingly feeling but at that moment there’s the tension and the embarrassment. He asked me to lie on the bed and he started touching ….
"Does it hurt?"
"Relax ……"
"Breathe in ….."
"Does it hurt?"
"Does it hurt?"
In the end, he even put his fingers to you know where …… (I’ve passed that with flying colors! Haha!)
*
He then started discussing about his initial findings, when I managed to put my pants back on.
Of course, I was afraid to hear things that would later make me want to just kill myself …. I’ve got my fingers crossed. He told us that I’ve got a rare condition which is called the "Tuberculosis of the Urinary Tract" or something to that effect. The sound of "tuberculosis" made my eyebrows met but the doctor told us that it is somewhat not as malignant or grave as the normal TB that happens in the lungs, although I was informed that the healing and medication process could almost take a year.
Then, something just came out of my mouth …. "Is this a sexually transmitted disease?"
"No," he replied …… "But, the production of your semen is being affected immensely …."
And then he scribbled a lot of things on his pad …. instructing me to undergo a number of tests before we could start the medication.
*
There are a lot of ways to die …. there could be a million and one reasons why life would seize to exist in our physical bodies. It could be a gunshot wound, it could be a fatal accident, it could be due to an illness or just that our bodies would give up due to extreme old age.
