Now wouldn't that have made it way more interesting.
Unfortunately that dreaded reindeer turned out to be nothing less than a suspicious lil malignant spot that has been bothering my grandmother for several years - and had finally managed to figuratively run her over, just a day after the new year which would make her more than a hundred.
Starting to think she mustered the last bits of strength just to doggedly drag herself across the finishing line to be a centenarian.
Two decades back, my grandmother had already warned me about the downsides of longevity and though I barely listened with half a ear, I perfectly understood what she meant about having everyone you loved pass before you. Back then with her perfect bill of health, I did tell her it would take a really long, long while for death to finally come for her. Guess that was a sort of premonition since it did take several long, long months for her to finally succumb to her cancer.
Long, long months it was since most of the final medical decisions about her ensuing treatment fell to her children and grandchildren, quite a number of whom have already graduated to become practicing physicians. So when there's basically a congregation of doctors from different fields discussing a specific case, especially one close to their hearts, I think you can well imagine the ensuing commotion.
Surprisingly though we had all the doctors in the family agreeing to halt the more troublesome invasive procedures in favour of the more palliative due to her advanced age - which her contumacious children automatically objected to, apparently preferring a more drastic course of chemotherapy. It obviously didn't take a day or two to decide - hard to argue overly much when everyone has her best interests at heart - so while the discussion was going on, my grandmother herself had resigned herself to whatever decision was made.
And took up the game of mahjong to while away her time.
This time though they didn't hide the diagnosis from her since it must have been pretty obvious from the way everyone rushed back suddenly from all corners of the globe. It was during the mahjong game that I realized that it really was time for her to go. Though there was no marked alteration in the way she reacted or spoke, there was no denying how very, very tired she looked.
It had been a hundred years and it was evidently time for her to finally rest. Almost everyone in the family had returned to see her. So what better time to say goodbye?
Unfortunately that dreaded reindeer turned out to be nothing less than a suspicious lil malignant spot that has been bothering my grandmother for several years - and had finally managed to figuratively run her over, just a day after the new year which would make her more than a hundred.
Starting to think she mustered the last bits of strength just to doggedly drag herself across the finishing line to be a centenarian.
Two decades back, my grandmother had already warned me about the downsides of longevity and though I barely listened with half a ear, I perfectly understood what she meant about having everyone you loved pass before you. Back then with her perfect bill of health, I did tell her it would take a really long, long while for death to finally come for her. Guess that was a sort of premonition since it did take several long, long months for her to finally succumb to her cancer.
Long, long months it was since most of the final medical decisions about her ensuing treatment fell to her children and grandchildren, quite a number of whom have already graduated to become practicing physicians. So when there's basically a congregation of doctors from different fields discussing a specific case, especially one close to their hearts, I think you can well imagine the ensuing commotion.
Surprisingly though we had all the doctors in the family agreeing to halt the more troublesome invasive procedures in favour of the more palliative due to her advanced age - which her contumacious children automatically objected to, apparently preferring a more drastic course of chemotherapy. It obviously didn't take a day or two to decide - hard to argue overly much when everyone has her best interests at heart - so while the discussion was going on, my grandmother herself had resigned herself to whatever decision was made.
And took up the game of mahjong to while away her time.
This time though they didn't hide the diagnosis from her since it must have been pretty obvious from the way everyone rushed back suddenly from all corners of the globe. It was during the mahjong game that I realized that it really was time for her to go. Though there was no marked alteration in the way she reacted or spoke, there was no denying how very, very tired she looked.
It had been a hundred years and it was evidently time for her to finally rest. Almost everyone in the family had returned to see her. So what better time to say goodbye?
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