In March 2024, my father-in-law suffered a devastating brain haemorrhage. It was a moment of sheer helplessness, with thoughts swirling through our minds, leaving us with a deep sense of uncertainty. We rushed him immediately to SKIMS, where the Neurology department became our second home for the rest of the month.
For an entire week, we lived on edge, unsure if he would survive or not and what his life would look like afterward. Each time, whenever seizures struck his brain, our legs used to tremble and we were gripped with fear. The other families in the ward have had similar stories, each looking at one another with hopeful yet weary eyes.
Conversations were tinged with desperation, comparing the severity of strokes, offering hollow reassurances. One family member telling to other that “Yours patient has smaller than mine”, offering a kind of assurance and hope to the family members. Deep down, we all knew that even if the patient survived, their life would never be the same.
This wasn’t the first time I had faced such a difficult situation. During the COVID-19 pandemic, my uncle battled severe pneumonia, despite testing negative for the virus, requiring a prolonged hospital stay. But this time was different, people around us wore expressions of fear, some were crying while some throbbing chests as they witness their beloved ones in pain.
My father-in-law’s brain haemorrhage shook me not just with fear for his life, but with the stark realisation of what lay ahead..
