three months left to live?

"What are you doing here?" my dad asked. Boy, was he surprised to see me... Never did he expect that I would turn up at the polyclinic. Knowing him, he was probably planning to keep to himself the doctor's advice and trivialise everything when questioned... I guess it takes one to know one... Well I definitely wasn't about to let him get away with it for sure - not when the doctor called urgently to bring his appointment forward.

"It can't be delayed," my mum, who answered the call was told.

So there I was, sitting next to my dad, waiting for our turn. It was obvious that he felt awkward... Refused to be fussed over... Refused to cause any unnecessary worries... Unsure how to react when receiving any acts of care and concern. Again, it really takes one to know one.

"It sounds serious. I won't be surprised if its a 'you-have-only-3-months-left-to-live kind of thing'," he said with an air of calm dutch courage. He later proceeded to tell me a story about his friend who died from leukemia. As I listened to him, I somehow distanced myself from the whole scene to observe him. And my mind wandered away....

There he was.... my dad. The man who did not even carry any of his children when we were babies cos he truly believed back then that he would die young and he didn't want us to be too emotionally attached to him.

This was the man who caned me when I scribbled and drew on the walls yet inspired me to try my hand at painting. Who objected to a lot of my academic decisions yet left me alone in my independence. Who wanted so strongly for me to quit my line and leave it all yet silently supported me in my career endeavours. Who believes in me and my capabilities yet had once scoffed in disbelief that I could saw and nail a perfect wooden frame. (He really can be chauvinistic!!)... Who'd nag and scold me if I refused to visit the doctor when I'm sick, yet behaves the same way when he was the sick one.

As much as I've been telling myself that I wouldn't want to be like my dad in some ways... I do identify some similarities that we share. I think he could see himself in me too... sometimes... I don't know...

It was finally our turn to see the doctor.

My dad was diagnosed with diabetes.

Did you know that diabetes can never be cured? I never knew that. Only then did I learn that the whole objective of diabetic treatment was merely to delay its effects. My dad didn't need medication... yet. But like all other illnesses, if no precautions were taken, it would worsen. Quickly.

Instinctively, I gave my dad the I-told-you-to-watch-what-you-eat look. But he was smiling to himself... "I thought it was something serious," he said.

"???!!! It's diabetes!! There's no cure!!" But of course... he was oblivious to my reaction. He was obviously missing the whole point!

Sigh...

Am I really gonna grow up to be like him?

..................................................................................................
(08 August 2007)