Earlier today, I boarded a Maharagama-bound expressway bus from Kadawatha, as it was the most practical option to return to my home in Pannipitiya after attending to some formalities at the Ragama hospital.
When I received my ticket, I realised, that of all the buses that ply this route, I was in the same bus that I had travelled in just 4 days ago, on Thursday evening.
How much had changed since then…
Last week, I had gone to my mom’s home in Wattala to take her to the cancer care center at the Ragama hospital, hoping that her recent CT scan (chest, abdomen, pelvis) would yield some insights on how to alleviate the symptoms she had been experiencing since of late.
As with previous visits to the center, I expected that I would take her home afterwards, and have a cup of tea before returning home to Pannipitiya. But that was not to be - when I described the most recent developments, loss of muscle control and loss of speech, the clinic recommended that she be admitted so they could run some tests, including a CT of the brain. When they checked her oxygen saturation, it was low, so they placed her on oxygen, and she fell asleep. As there was no longer a need to travel to Wattala, I went to Kadawatha and took the expressway bus from there - thinking that she’s getting better care than what we were able to provide at home, and that the brain CT the next day would help decide her future treatment.
When I visited her on Friday evening, together with my cousin who lives next door to Mom in Wattala, she still hadn’t woken. There was no response even when I squeezed her hand and stroked her head. The doctors advised that her condition wasn’t good, but they recommended leaving her under observation for a few more days.
Stage IV cancer is a horrible diagnosis - it’s a death sentence without a date. I’d known for at least a year now that her days were numbered, but I didn’t know the number. No one did, no one could. Not until it was staring us in the face.
Returning to Wattala in a taxi, I was telling my cousin that it’s time to inform the relatives - some of them may be able to visit on Saturday. But barely 15 minutes away from the hospital, I received a call asking us to return. I was told later that she had stopped breathing almost immediately after we had left - even though she didn’t show any sign that she knew I had returned, its plausible that she was holding on to see me one more time.
And as it turned out, the relatives did visit on Saturday - for her funeral.
And the formalities at the hospital before my second bus ride? The documentation for registering her death.