Helplessness

The anxiety did not aid much to the bone chilling cold and the hard cold seats of the waiting lounge I have been spending my nights on, outside the ICU.

The sound of the ticking of the wall clock.

The sound of the water filter dripping.
The sound of the squeaky chairs.
All so monotonous that any disturbance in the order is agitating.

Three days continuous in the waiting area is enough to take you through a lot of emotions of both yours and others around you.

I have seen the mourning of a family for someone whom they lost inside to a cardiac arrest.
I have seen the face with mixed emotion of happiness and helplessness of a mother seeing her child on a wheel chair coming out of ICU.

I have seen the fear of a wife who prayed for the recovery of her husband every day.
I have seen the happy faces of a family who saw her daughter walking out of that room after a risky delivery.

I have seen a lot of emotions… a lot.

And then there is me, with a sense of helplessness and an emotional surge as I see the doctor exiting the room.

“Who is with Mr. Ray?”
“Me.”
“You can meet him now.”

Finally after three long days I got a chance to see him.
And now with shaky legs and a broken heart, I walked down the longest corridor with a doctor who explained about the weakening conditions of my father.

At last, I push the door and enter the ICU.
The pale face.
The machines attached.
The deafening soft sounds of a Ventilator pushing air in and out.
The brain crushing sight of a feeble body draped in hospital clothes.

I draw a small breath and let things sink in.
I called him.

“Papa…”

I think he heard me again after a long time when I called out for him…
But perhaps the so supposed ailment was too strong,
Which pulled him back to sleep and for the first time he closed his eyes without a mumble…

Could have been a nightmare for the 4 year old me, but as the nature serves … it hits me as a reality for the present day me…

Helplessness gripped me over again.
I felt like losing myself to oblivion. The surrounding walls looming over me, pressing from all sides making me feel small and confused and vulnerable, like a small child lost in the crowd of strange legs.

I carried myself out the ICU, through the long corridor back to the cold seats of the Waiting room.

The sound of the ticking of the wall clock again.
The sound of the water filter dripping.
The sound of the squeaky chairs.

Once again I sit in the room listening to the routine sounds waiting to meet him again.