That Time When Mama Turned Into a Minion

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Before we were gifted with the animated movie Despicable Me, yellow was just a bright color we associate with the sun. Well, there was Big Bird from Sesame Street. But only kids with cables can relate to that. Even before those small and pudgy light-bulb-shaped creatures we adored now became popular, yellow was just a color. Or a song by Coldplay. 

Before that fateful event, yellow was just a color to me.

Mama was preparing to go to Sariaya Quezon to meet with our relatives and my godmother along with her family from France. She was excited about the family reunion. It has been years since the Manongsong family had a get-together.

The night before her trip we noticed her eyes have become yellowish. She was also feeling a bit tired. But she shrugged it off saying she can sleep it off and by tomorrow she would be fine. It was an event she could not miss. It would take years for it to happen again.

That morning she left by herself since everyone had other plans to attend to.

A day after she texted that she was not feeling well. Our relatives suggested her to take rest and not do anything at all. They were really concerned with her health. For 2 days she was just in the house while our relatives went to the beach for swimming and had the usual reunion activities. She texted kuya that she wanted to go home. She wanted him to go to Sariaya and return back to Taguig with her. Her condition was getting worse and our relatives were already worried.

Kuya went immediately to Sariaya and by night time they arrived home with mama and the pasalubongs from France.

It was clear that the yellowing of her eyes had escalated quickly – her skin turned to yellow also. But because of the lighting at home it wasn’t obvious enough.

The next morning she was sent to the hospital to check on her condition. She was carried by kuya all the way to the car heading to PGH because it became difficult for her to move. A single movement was already painful to her. I woke up alone that morning.

I know that when a person’s skin becomes yellowish it’s a sign of liver disease. People with hepatitis have that symptom. So I thought she had hepatitis. But I wasn’t certain yet. It could have been something else – some deficiency that was blood-related.

My sister who was back from Cebu went directly to the hospital. She texted me to come. I went and we met outside the emergency area where people with immediate medical attention were sent. She told me where mama was and I went inside.

I was preparing myself for what I was about to witness. But nothing could have prepared me. Lying on a metal gurney was mama who was staring blankly at the ceiling. She was not moving at all. But she was conscious. A catheter was inserted through her urethra to aid with her urination. My heart sank. But what I really felt was fear more than anything. I paced myself towards her ignoring the patients inside the room. She saw me. I held her hand and said hi. She did not respond. I asked her questions but she only groaned. I asked her if she was in pain. She was not and then she was every time she made a tiny movement. I asked if she could move her hands and feet. She could not. I stopped asking her more questions because it was obvious enough that she needed to rest. Ate went inside to hand me goodies from her trip. She also handed me money for mama. We went outside before she left. She told me that she was scared for mama. I nodded in agreement. We were all scared. We don’t know what happened to her and why her skin turned yellow. All we can do was to wait for the doctors’ findings and decide what our course of action would be upon receiving it. She left after our conversation.

I was with kuya until mama was sent to a ward. I was running through halls. Going back and forth to buy stuff. It rained that night. I got my shoes (and socks) wet from running hospital errands. If I was not into running that much I would also have been sent to the emergency room with mama. Thankfully, despite the day's event, I still had the stamina to run errands (and to keep my composure.)

After everything that needed processing was done I went out to have dinner. I called a friend and told her every single detail of what transpired that day. I felt a bit better calling her. I even joked about how mama became a minion. We laughed about it. I laughed because that was my intention - to find the positive in the negative that we were in. It was petty but it made the whole experience bearable on my part (a defense mechanism I guess.)

I really hate hospitals. Whenever I’m in one there is this unexplainable heaviness that follows me wherever I go. So whenever I’m reminded of the time mama was sent to the hospital I try to think of that time she became a minion – of that time when she could not move any part of her body, because doing so would be really painful. Of that time I feared for her life. Of that time I realized I was being ushered in into adulthood - when things get very difficult and you have no one to help you other than yourself. Of that time I ran the halls of PGH running errands to help save mama’s life.

And then I’d feel the cloud of grief go away, as I paint pictures of those tiny, pudgy, and cute creatures who speak gibberish and are hilarious to watch, from my unforgetting mind.