Inang Gone Wild

Today, we took Inang to the hospital. 

Every morning, per our normal routine, I check on Inang before heading into work. She was still sleeping when I got there this morning. I noticed she seemed paler than usual and asked my parents (who are real-life medical professionals, unlike myself who just fakes it) to follow up and see what might be wrong, as I had to get to work for an early presentation.

The presentation went well, and as I settled back into my office to catch up on emails, I noticed that my mom had sent me the following text:

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“Don’t get alarmed.”

“She does not need blood transfusion.”

“Vomiting. Pooping. Blood.

I left the office within fifteen minutes of receiving that text message, and arrived before Inang was scheduled to go up for an endoscopy. As we waited, Inang struggled quite a bit with the idea of using the restroom in an incontinence garment* the nurses had supplied her.

“But I want to walk.”
“You’re not allowed to. You just had a GI bleed.”
“But I need to use the restroom.”
“Then use it. Let it go, Inang. Let it go.

Inang was not amused with the Idina reference.

After a while, Inang had no choice but to comply with the thought of using the incontinence garment, which I’m sure she was not happy with and ultimately led to certain acts of rebellion.

Like, full-on disrobing.

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Not really Inang, but you get the idea.

And I get it. If someone told me, “Hey, use the bathroom on yourself,” I’d want to get as clean as possible, as quickly as possible – even if that meant stripping down to my birthday suit in front of my kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, and kind Malaysian maintenance man who was in the room to fix my curtain. 

You could hear Inang’s heart shatter after we told her she wasn’t going home tonight. No amounts of “We’re staying with you! We’re staying with you!” brought any comfort to her (or maybe it was the fact that my dad and Uncle George joked around about going fishing tomorrow). 

I’m praying that Inang gets to go home quickly, and that Tuesday’s tests bring about positive news rather than the alternative. Until then, Inang and I will be on mini vacay, glamping out at Hotel West Houston Medical Center, where we accept gifts in the form of coffee, chocolate, and telenovelas (just kidding, Inang’s NPO… I’m not though).

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Where the party never stops
And Inang’s panty drops

*who are we kidding? it’s an adult diaper