HIS LAST DAYS

That evening, my husband was restless. He was paralyzed after a diabetic stroke more than four years ago. I had feed him earlier ahead before Geda, our youngest daughter, and I took our supper. Being used to his moods for more than four years, I thought he was just attracting attention. He asked me to sit on the chair beside his bed.

We talked about the children , Gerando, Gemarie, Gevincent, Genimfa and Gedaross, He often asked me to sit and talk to him after supper. He had been demanding lately, so I made excuses. I don't want to listen to serious talks. Watching soap opera across the room, I joked that I would listen to him only on commercial breaks


All these years, I have been in denial, forever hoping that someday he’ll recover and be able to walk again even how slow. Each time he talked seriously, I changed topic because I was afraid be might bid goodbye. At previous times , he would ride on and we talked about old family events. I was always able to divert his attention to something else. Deep inside I knew he knew what I was doing. Parting words from a loved one will shatter my world. I was purposely evading the issue.

When the commercial break finally came, he pulled me closer so I can hear correctly and watched his mouth to understand his slurred words.

Our older children have families of their own he said, and he was satisfied that they have decent jobs. He instructed me on what to do, where to go, me and Geda. For all I knew, those were his last words. My stomach lurched, when later, he kept calling my name. He was restless and I was afraid. A chill crept into in my spine like iced water poured on my back. I asked Geda to call Gevic. We were going to the hospital now.

We went to Borbon hospital, but our doctor transferred him to Mendero Hospital. He was placed at ICU; Tubes for breathing and eating were inserted on his mouth and nostrils. He was not conscious but he was moving furiously that he squeezed the palm of the nurse who inserted needles on his palm.

Yet after a few hours at the ER, the doctor decided to transfer us to Provincial Hospital in Dao, An ambulance was prepared for us again. I asked my daughter Maya and her husband Jun to take over management of the house, while our youngest daughter Geda and my son Gevic took charge of the never ending purchase of medicines, negotiated with the blood bank for blood transfusions, conferred with the doctors,. and updated Goyen, my nurse daughter in New York, of everything.

Thus began the fight for his life and my fight for sanity. Seeing my husband breathing in a tube through his mouth and feed through his nostrils with both palms in dextrose or medications was beyond my comprehension.. I floated in and out of ICCU to our room like a robot. He had been admitted to hospitals in Ozamiz City many times after his stroke but he was conscious and had never been at ICU.

In my heart, I had many words to say but nothing surfaced to my lips. My tears flowed freely with the words of the lay minister who prayed for him. My eldest son Randy was in the room and I saw him moved back with tears in his eyes.

Then came my daughter Goyen’s call from the States to the hospital, monitoring every hour of laboratory results and updates of his father’s condition. She was aggressive, when she knew his heart was still good, inspiring us, encouraging us to talk to him for he still can hear. Geda and I took turns talking to him. Sometimes, he pressed our hands to show that he heard. Geda placed her cellphone tuned to soft music near his ear. Gerimae, my granddaughter who was also a nurse, talked to him, when she arrived.

Then , all of a sudden, for reasons I couldn’t understand at that time; the doctor said we have to go back to Mendero hospital. If it was some personal problem or misunderstanding, I told him I was ready to beg for mercy from the hospital authorities to spare my husband, to let us stay until his condition was stable. But he needed dialysis, the doctor said, and it was urgent. The next day was a Sunday and it cannot be postponed till Monday. Government personnel are “on call” on holidays and we cannot rely on chances.

I allowed my children to decide for me, because my head was about to snap! So, again, an ambulance brought us back to Mendero ICU.

After his first dialysis, I talked to him. He opened his eyes and nodded when I asked if he could hear me. Then his head turned when he heard a voice. I said,
“That’s Geda. She’s here to get the doctor’s prescription.” He nodded again. I asked the nurse on duty if persons who are treated with dialysis have hopes of recovery. When she said “yes”. I clung to that last ray of hope .

My hopes began to crumble when he had to undergo dialysis for the second time; then third and now fourth dialysis. This time he was weaker and did not respond to my call. It was hurting, agonizing and painful.

I recall the ordeal of seeing him breathing so hard, his breast rising up and down, catching for breath He’d never would have consented that this be done to his body if he were conscious.

Every word uttered by the Sisters of Divine Mercy who prayed for him, pierced my heart deeply. Father Suarin gave him the last Sacrament of Extreme Unction in the afternoon after his Mass but he pulled me aside after it and advised me to accept God’s Will so he can rest.

When my daughter Goyen told me to accept the inevitable, I knew it was time to let go. We had done everything we could do but his time has come. She requested the doctor not to apply the CPR anymore if the arrest came, so there would be no more pain if he goes.

That evening of August 20, my son Gevic did not allow me to sleep in the hospital. There was nothing I could do there. Nurses are on duty 24 hours at ICU. I needed to rest.

At exactly 4:30am of August 21, I awoke and prayed the rosary. It is indeed in our darkest moments , when the pain is great, that we learn to pray our most heartfelt honest to God prayers. I tearfully asked God for a miracle, if it was good for him; but “Not my will but Yours be done , oh Lord”.

I was reading the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy, when our boy called me from outside, to come to the hospital immediately. My God! Help me! We rushed out, almost running thru the night.

I was trembling, when I arrived at the hospital The tubes were gone and he was breathing slowly. Dr. Robles met me, took my blood pressure and uttered words of comfort I cried hard and hugged my husband so tightly crying until his last breath. My strongman has gone. He passed away silently and peacefully. His life on earth was numbered; yes, I have accepted it; but still the realization hit me so hard like a lightning bolt. His sufferings on earth ended and he has gone home to our Creator in His grace. That was my one big consolation.

After four years, six months, and three days, he succumbed to multiple organ failure.


His remains was laid in state at St. Peter’s Chapel at Sto Nino, Pagadian City. A funeral mass was held at San Vicente Ferrer Church in Molave at 8:00 am on August 28,2009. Starting from Pagadian City at 6:oo am , the procession stopped at our home at Barangay Makuguihon in Molave for a few minutes before going to the church. After the Mass he was finally laid to rest at Gabunon Cemetery.

Goodbye, Love.