The year that changed my life forever!
When I think back to 2020, I am filled with a multitude of mixed emotions.
The beginning of the year seemed “normal” and then all of a sudden friends were greeting each other with weird elbow bumps, masks became the norm, and people stayed so far away from you in the supermarket you would’ve thought you were covered in excrement.
Then after government announcements, we suddenly cancelled all our holidays, locked up our newly refurbished office, started working remotely, home-schooled two children, stayed indoors, and transferred our lives over to Zoom.
Before lockdown, I felt as though I had finally figured out work-life balance. As quickly as this was mastered, it was snatched away from me. I now had to learn how to juggle everything.
But you know what, I’m pleased to say we managed and we dealt with it. I’d even say we nailed it.
We nearly got through the most challenging year of our lives with ease. This was until December 2020 when my mom started coughing.
She was always overly cautious about COVID-19 that she even used to wipe down her shopping. Ironically she would challenge me for not doing that. She never left the house without a number of masks and several hand sanitisers. She even spent her time talking to her friends outside, many meters apart. She did everything right.
So why was she coughing?
She said she was sure she just had a chest infection but nevertheless, her and my dad, who was also coughing at the time, went for a COVID test. Very apathetically, I must add.
I just couldn’t believe it when both their tests came back positive.
I remember talking to her every couple of hours the day she got the news. I told her to drink tea with honey, take it easy and be positive because she was likely to be one of the lucky few who were able to recover from COVID with flying colours.
But COVID and asthma aren’t always a good combination. And they definitely weren’t in her case.
She was tracking her sats constantly and her oxygen was getting very low, so we all started to worry. I’m based in the UK and with my parents in South Africa, I wasn’t able to go see her.
The doctor told her she needed to be admitted to hospital for monitoring. She went in begrudgingly, barely packing a bag, assuming she would be home a few hours or days later. I spoke to her a lot from the hospital. She’d send me photos mocking her face covered in the high-flow oxygen machine. She’d also send me lengthy descriptions of the “cardboard” food she was eating. She never lost her sense of humour, not for one minute.
I was thrilled to be able to communicate with her. All the while she was so worried about my dad and his COVID recovery. We had to constantly update her on his progress and what he was eating for dinners.
A few days went by and the doctors decided to place her on her stomach for a few hours a day. Those hours felt like torture because she never messaged me back. But then I breathed a sigh of relief when she finally did.
After about a week the doctors decided to move her into the High Dependency Unit because she needed more frequent monitoring. For many hours communication vanished but inevitably I’d hear from her for a few moments a day. I lived for this. I even remember telling her to just send me emojis and I would decipher them and update the family.
This emojis meant everything to me.
I was desperate to fly to South Africa, to visit her, help my dad, and be with my brothers. But that was completely impossible. My mom was someone who despite being in the opposite hemisphere, was so present in my life and my children’s lives. And I couldn’t be there, with her, to hold her hand, or even to stand by the window many meters apart.
It just didn’t feel right.
And then we were told they were moving her to the ICU. She needed to go onto a ventilator. This would allow her body to rest and recover from the dreaded virus.
We had heard about some people going onto ventilators and then recovering and coming home. We assumed this would be the case too.
But then all communication stopped. No more messages, no more photos or videos, no unappetising descriptions of hospital food. Nothing.
My dad thankfully had recovered from COVID at this point and was allowed to mask-up and go visit her. But she was unconscious. My brother also went as the doctor recommended any close family go see her. Never a good sign.
I was desperate to go, but I was trapped. She would have moved mountains to see me, but I couldn’t even get on a plane for one night and offer her the same courtesy. This wasn’t fair.
That night I remember speaking to my dad and saying, I no longer knew what to pray for. We obviously wanted her to be well. But the doctors warned us that her kidneys were slowing down. Her lungs were irreparable and her heart was probably exhausted.
My mom always used to tell me something that always made me laugh. She used to say, “When I’m old, you put me in a home and get on with your life.” This always made me chuckle but yet suddenly, this was all I could think about. She never wanted to be a burden. And I knew if she couldn’t be her healthy, happy self, she wouldn’t be content. So out of respect for her, I felt this overwhelming confusion as to what I should pray for.
I went to bed that night, my mind consumed with conflicted emotions. I barely slept but stayed in bed staring at my phone.
At 4am I jumped when there was a call from my dad. I raced downstairs to answer it.
I couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. “I’ve just been called by the doctor. Mom’s passed away.”
I didn’t know what to say to him. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. My heart was racing, I was shaking. All I was able to say to him was, “I’m so sorry but I need to call you back.”
I put the phone down and I just crumbled.