My parents are getting old. Not that anyone else is getting younger. It's just that, for so long, my parents were...my parents. Healthy, strong, independent...and at some point of time, even formidable. People I've come to take for granted, to assume they'll always be there...healthy, well, and generally be there for as long as it takes for my brother and I to get married, have kids and watch them grow up.

Of recent years however, many incidents have come along to shake this false belief. My dad is one clumsy old bear. He has been bumping into things, falling down, spraining muscles, suffering from slipped discs....you know, generally doing a pretty good job of damaging himself. When driving, he manages to bang into stationary objects on a regular basis, and to varying degrees. He does a great job of mimicking Adam when these accidents happen. He points the finger to my mom, saying that she was responsible for distracting him.

Today, I was sent into a sudden panic when I received a call from my dad. He had apparently fallen face down while running for shelter during the rain. Everything he was carrying, including a laptop, fell helter skelter into puddles of rain. In bracing himself during the fall, however, he had landed heavily on his left arm and injured something in the process. He was in a great deal of pain and generally unable to move his arm. I rushed home to see him sitting on the living room sofa, facing the balcony and resting the weight of his injured arm on an armrest. He was cringing from the pain and breathing in measured breaths. My mom was at work still, and I could not contact my brother. I felt so helpless not being able to even tell if the injury was serious. The only things I could do were to rush him to A&E and pray.

I hate A&E. It always takes so long I wonder why it's called A&E. I always wonder how they expect patients in pain (and who happened not to be in a life-threatening condition) to just sit there and wait for as long as 3 hours or more. By the time we made our way to NUH, it was peak hours and the estimated time was tagged at 3 and a half hours. I felt like throwing something at the hospital staff. ANY hospital staff. Tell me how comfortable you would feel if you could hear your dad grunting in pain in the back seat of the car as you tried your best to manoeuvre through the rush hour traffic while trying to suppress your anxiety. Or how cool you'd feel if you saw your dad using his other arm to hold up his injured arm, as if it would dangle down if he didn't. Man... To say I was anxious, was an understatement. Ok, but I admit, I am the panicky sort.

Thank God the wait was swifter than was expected. We managed to clear each 'station' at approximately half-hour intervals. A medical staff gave him a sort of pre-assessment, after which he was soon ushered into the consultation room where a doctor did some tests. Then he was given several X-rays before we settled down to wait again. Not too long afterwards, the doctor called us in again after examining results of the x-ray. No fracture and no apparent muscle or ligament tear. Just some contusion (an injury, as from a blow with a blunt instrument, in which the subsurface tissue is injured but the skin is not broken; bruise) and inflammation of tissue, I think. Thank God! My dad would take any downtime quite badly I think.

Sometimes I can't help but wonder if all these accidents in recent years is due to his failing eyesight. And then, sometimes, I look at my parents as they sit and do stuff, and realise with a sudden shock how much they've aged over the years. That's when I am reminded of the frailty or fragility of life, of Man. And then my next thought is that of guilt. Of possibly not being able to support them financially if anything should happen to them, even after having worked a good number of years. And of feeling alone, even after almost 30 years of existence...having no one else to share the burden of taking care of my parents with me. Can only take comfort in my not being an only child. Phew.

My brother mysteriously appeared in the waiting room later in the night while we were waiting for medication. We had, by then, been in A&E for about 2 hours, and I was having quite a bit of trouble keeping my eyes open. I was really really tired, having hardly slept the night before. And keeping 40 hyperactive students occupied and at bay for at least half the day wasn't exactly energizing. I was rather relieved at seeing him there. At least it didn't feel so lonely anymore, and the burden of being in charge was greatly lightened. I know at the end of the day, my brother couldn't have done anything helpful, given the fact that we both knew almost zero medical knowledge, but it was just comforting to know that he was around, that he cared enough to be, at least. We had a late dinner at the hospital, a relatively light-hearted one, before retiring home, back to the anxious cluckings of the family mother hen.

With this, I end my tiring and eventful day. I will retire very soon to the comfort of my bed after heartfelt thanks to God. Thank God too, for my TL at BSF...her support, prayers and for raising the distress signal to the other leaders on my behalf. I know all their prayers helped in making the wait swift. Also thankful for friends who took the time to sms me words of encouragement upon hearing the news. Thank you for the sympathy and love, I didn't feel quite so alone afterwards =)

ZzzzZzzzzzz.......