My mom has been born with a congenital heart defect. So, her family has been very protective of her. So protective, that, they wouldn't allow her to get married for fear that she would die of childbirth.
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But my mom was a stubborn woman, despite of her family's objection; she married my father and had two children with him. I grew up seeing my mom being admitted to the hospital too many times.
Her condition worsened through the years and her heart just developed too many complications. I saw her struggling for breath, and sometimes wake up to the sound of her groans of pain.
I grew up wondering how long I will have my mom with me. Every day I fear that I might wake up and not see her at all. I felt so helpless.
When I finished high school, she convinced me to take up Nursing, which I did reluctantly. After graduation and obtaining my license, I realized that this time I can do something for my mom. I can finally take care of her. That everything will be alright now.
I found a job in a hospital near our home so I can earn and at the same time be with my family and watch over my mom. But eventually, I have come to realize that my salary was not enough to see through my family's needs. I wanted to make my mom stop working and just stay at home. So, I got a job in a hospital in the Middle East.
Finally, I was earning enough money to give my mom all the comfort and luxury that she deserves. Finally, all her dreams for me are coming true.
Despite the nostalgia I was feeling, I consoled myself with the thought that after 10 months, I can come home to my mom. With every phone call I tried to convey how much I love her. I only want the best for her. I urged her to go visit her cardiologist frequently and I had my former colleagues look up on her to make sure that she is OK.
God knows, I wanted to be the one to take care of her, to meet her needs. But fate is cruel; it would not allow me to do so. My mom suffered from a fatal heart attack. Despite the regular visits to the doctor and the daily visits from my colleagues, her heart gave out.
She didn't even make it to the hospital which is only 10 minutes away from our home. It breaks my heart how I ended up miles away from home, during the time my mother needed me most. How, when I can provide her everything she is taken from me. How, I spent most of my time holding the hands of dying strangers and not be given the chance to say goodbye to my own mother. How, I help save other people's lives but I cannot save my own mother.
There are too many things I regret, but also too many things I have to be thankful for. Although I have been treated with my life's greatest irony, I have come to realize the value of my profession. That even though the dying persons: whose hands I held, whose souls I have prayed for; are strangers for me, they are fathers, mothers, and loved ones for someone who wasn't given the chance to be with them during those last moments. Like me.
