One day at a time

By GLENDA D. RELOVA

(The author is a nurse and a social worker by profession. She is the assistant secretary for the Operations Group and Statutory Programs of a government agency. )

Mahatma Gandhi once said “Where there is Love there is Life.”  My survival story revolves around a loved one lost, but love remained, and that love has become my source of strength to go on.

I got married in 1995 to a soft-spoken, intelligent and handsome lawyer.  In 2020, we were planning to have our special 25th wedding anniversary, but our plans kept on changing due to the pandemic. We decided to move it to June of 2021, assuming that health protocols will be different by then.

A little over a week before our anniversary, I received a call from my husband who said he was not feeling well. I could sense a certain urgency in his voice so I hurriedly went home. I work in Quezon City and my husband who retired from work  few months before, had chosen to stay in our house in Laguna. We get to spend time together only on weekends sometimes every other weekend since my work demands so much of my time.

My husband complained of leg pain and since there was a COVID surge, we resorted to telemedicine consultations. However the pain worsened and he experienced other symptoms such as lower body weakness, and inability to open his eyelids.

I finally convinced him to go to the hospital so we booked an appointment but we were not accommodated since all of the hospitals were full. Finally, we were able to find one in Quezon City. We stayed in the hospital for quite a long time ensuring that we performed all the necessary tests and to rule out other assumptions such as stroke.  Finally the only diagnosis we got was slight lordosis. (Lordosis is the medical name for an exaggerated inward curve of the spine, often in the neck or lower back. Lordosis usually does not cause symptoms. However, if it is severe, it can cause pain and may require surgery.)

He was discharged from the hospital and we were given a rehabilitation schedule plan. But his condition did not improve. I encouraged him to go back to the hospital but he refused for fear of getting an infection. He asked me to set up our room like a hospital setting, and purchased all the necessary equipment that he would need. Our doctor-friend checked on him frequently and I performed the nursing functions, while also working from home.

For five months, my days were filled with checkups, getting other medical opinions, nursing his needs, working from home, and helping with his active court cases.

On April 19, I noticed that he manifested symptoms of depression. That night, he refused to eat. The doctor put him on IV and oxygen since he also experienced difficulty in breathing. It was devastating for me to see him like that. I stayed beside him 24/7 and catered to all his needs and to make him comfortable.

On April 28, I noticed his vital signs were getting unstable and I called our doctor-friend. He said that I should prepare myself for the inevitable. True enough a few minutes later he faded away. As a wife and as a nurse, I could not let it happen. I still performed CPR, but all was in vain.

My world crashed right there and then. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to us, I was not ready for this. He was my everything, half of my life was spent with him. With him gone, I have nothing.

I do not know how I survived that night. I couldn't look at his casket. I didn’t want to answer calls or messages from people offering sympathies and condolences. Families and friends arrived to comfort me, but no words could give me comfort.

I was in denial and really hurting. My husband’s death was the third death in the family in two years time — my brother-in-law in December 2019, my dad in May 2020 and then my husband.

People said that I have a strong personality, my friends and family would seek comfort or advice from me in times of trouble. But then I could not find strength within me. I didn’t want to be strong anymore; I just wanted to crawl in a corner and cry my heart out. I can’t imagine my life without him  because it was always me and him.

The wake and inurnment went by as if I’m in a trance.I wanted to think that was just a dream and when I woke up things would be different.

The first week was a real torture, waking up in the middle of the night trying to understand things, and asking God — why me? Why us?

I lived in a cycle of grief and peace, but grief dominated.  It was like a wave that hit and engulfed me at no particular time.  It brought me to memory lane and to an uncertain future, and it brought pain. But the irony was, I enjoyed the pain since it brought me closer to my husband.  I did not want to let go. I thought that with him gone half of me died. However, I knew that I still had lots of responsibilities especially at work. I knew that I had to crawl out of the painful world I was clinging to.

As a social worker I know that I have to go through the process of grieving known as DABDA  — denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

I prayed hard for guidance, protection  and acceptance and for  my DABDA process to be short.

I realized that it’s impossible for me to understand everything and I might not understand it at all.

Despite everything, I’m fortunate to have found love, and even if my husband is gone, that love remains.  I could draw from that love to go on and fulfill my responsibilities and harness my full potential. I came to understand that half of me did not die, it’s just traumatized by my circumstances.

I know that the pain will always be there but our love is greater than the pain and it is alive, as what Gandhi said when there is love there is life and to live it productively, one day at a time.