I once more visited my mother’s doctor. My purpose was to consult on what other medicines may be available for her.
My mother has entered a new phase in her life. At the age of 90, my mother has made it an all-night event to all relatives. I listen to hear her each night do that. The dialogue is very simple: She calls them one by one and asks them to hold her hand. With some relatives, she is very specific: Hold my hand.
My mother’s voice has grown louder and hoarser. The compulsion from her brains. With some individuals, this compulsion is to walk and walk. With my mother, it is to talk.
During some nights when her voice wakes me up, I would usually go near the door of her room and ask her who are in her room. Gently, I tell her to stop inviting them to stay. Let them go, I would plead to her. The problem is I do not have the heart and the body to drive these nocturnal visitors away. They are all dead, after all.
I want my mother to quiet down, not because I am irritated with her, but because I want her to get some rest.
In the good doctor’s office I relayed to her the situation of my mother. It must be the medicine we are giving her, the doctor spoke as if I were a colleague, a fellow doctor. After more questions and clarification, she informed me she would change some of my mother’s medicine. One of these medicines is in the form of a tablet. From the prescribed 100 milligrams, the tablet woud be divided into four. She sked me to have the salesperson in the pharmacy to do the cutting of the tablets. Mentioning this to the young man at the counter, he said they could see a tablet cutter and I should be the one to cut the tablets.
Inside the taxi waiting for me, I contemplated the role of tablet-crackers. When I looked up, I saw the back of a man, a fellow passenger in the cab. I was puzzled, but I would not ask the driver. He must be a cousin. I am thankful enough the taxi driver patiently waited for me.
I looked out and could not understand why we were passing by old stone houses. I pressed my face against the closed window and tried to find a familiar structure. I could not recognize the buildings, I saw that we kept passing by buildings and areas with landmarks. The taxi was passing by some streets twice because I felt we had gone by those structures. The trip was taking longer this time. I looked outside again. We were passing by a cemetery. That is close to my home. I looked up and saw no passenger seated beside the driver.
I looked at the tablet cracker. This is the only matter I would understand. I assured myself.
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Image credits: Jimbo Albano