Second Essay from Vui

This is a long essay written for all other cousins and relatives that cannot make it to Houston to pay respect to Cau Nam while he is still alive.

Huyen and Thu were right. It was difficult concentrating at work. The issues of work all of the sudden seem so unimportant, as I was thinking about Cau Nam all day. And also about my Mom and Di Bay.

Modern medicine of the most advanced country on earth and the minds of the greatest oncologists had failed Cau Nam. They had given up on Cau Nam and are now moving Cau Nam to the Hospice, where there will be no more treatments, no more saline solution for intravenous injection, just Oxygen and perhaps occasional pain killers. They are moving Cau Nam to the final resting place of modern medicine. They put a purple band on his right wrist that says DNR for Do Not Resuscitate or Revive. Once his lung failed, they will let him go.

The email about moving Cau Nam to the hospice blipped up upon my computer screen, and I was grateful for Anh Quoc for sending it out. I grabbed couple of empty boxes for moving and rushed to the Memorial Hospital. I got there at noon and saw Cau Nam was resting. In the room were Anh Quoc, Chi Da Thu, my sister Ha, Son con Di Bay, Co Lisa and two of her sons. All solemnly stood watch over Cau Nam. Anh Quoc cracked a tired smile welcoming me into the crowded room. He was so exhausted. His earlier email described a horrific battle with Cau Nam during the night. His sleeping of couple hours a night on a two by five cot under a cold window for the past ten nights had taken a toll on his body. Unshaven, shuffled, and the strain in his blood-shot eyes said it all, and I wondered how this little man can have such capacity of strength and love.

And then, just as though someone reached out and turned off the switch for air supply to Cau Nam. He exploded into a panic frenzy. He sat up and moved his arms around violently, as he was fighting some unseen enemies. His eyes opened wide but focusing elsewhere and nowhere. His expression was that of pure fear and panic. He tried to breathe and there was no air. He tried to yell but there was no sound. And he tried to grab but there was nothing. Yet he fought with all the strength he had left. He must have seen Death, but not yet wanted to go.

Anh Quoc rushed to his side and tried to calm Cau Nam down, but Cau Nam was too powerful. Chi Da Thu was holding down his right arm amid her tears and kept saying, "Ba, rang tho di Ba" (Dad, please keep breathing); Ha jumped in to keep the oxygen mask on Cau Nam's face, while saying, "Cau Nam khong tho, Ma con se ray" (If you don't breathe, my Mom will be upset). All the while Co Lisa was standing right next to the bed next to Anh Quoc crying and panicking. Her two sons were standing there crying as well. Son rushed out of the room and asked the nurse for some pain killer. The short little nurse rushed around and came back with a giant syringe full of God-know-what medication. Son fought to hold down Cau Nam, so the nurse could administer the drug. I left the room to say prayer for Cau Nam and call Dung.

I told Dung that Cau Nam had seen Death and his last flicker of strength was not much. I told her that he might not have much time left, if any, and I could feel her heart tightening. Dung was all choked up, "Are you OK?", only then that I realized that I too was crying. I didn't know if they were tears of fear or sadness, but I knew that I needed her more than ever. I told Dung that I love her.

I got back to the room, and all were calm. The drug Son (the Doctor) ordered took effect immediately and Cau Nam was out cold. His chest rose and fell laboriously, but there were no more fight in him. Anh Quoc, still shaken, quickly wiped his eyes and told me it was much worse last night. He did a lousy job trying to hide his feelings of scare, lost and panic. His eyes declared loudly a desperate need for some shoulders to cry on. I was afraid that he would burst out crying at any moment. Co Lisa sat sniffling quietly in the corner. The tiny woman seemed so small, lost and lonely. There were no ways to comfort her. Just give her space and respect her pain, I told myself. The ever-present smile on the face of Chi Da Thu had gone, as she stood silently by Cau Nam wiping away her tears and finding comfort in patting away the sweat on Cau Nam's forehead.

The Ambulance Transport guys got there at exactly 1PM. Two big all-American men handled Cau Nam with ease, as they loaded a passed-out Cau Nam onto the gurney. Anh Quoc automatically went into organizer-extraordinaire mode and gave instructions to everyone as where to go and what to do. I left to go pick-up my parents and Di Bay, as Anh Quoc left with Cau Nam in the ambulance.

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Ha had called ahead, so my parents and Di Bay were all ready by the time I pulled into the driveway. Dad was waiting for me in the garage; before saying Hello, he asked, “How’s Cau Nam?” His concerns for his best friend and the pain on his face caught me all tearing up again. I told my Dad about what happened at the hospital earlier. He listened tentatively and silently turned the other way to wipe his tears. It is difficult to see one old man walking out of the hospital weeping for his best friend still there.

In the car, I related to my Mom and Di Bay what transpired earlier in the day. My Mom sobbed uncontrollably and Di Bay too was sniffling. I missed Di Bay for being such a good sister to my Mom. Unlike my Mom who is always strict and reserved, Di Bay is sweet and gentle. Her presence was so comforting.

At the new hospital, I parked in the wrong parking lot, and we had to walk quite a way to the hospice. It was a beautiful but cold day in Houston. I walked briskly carrying in the baggage and belongings of Cau Nam and Anh Quoc from the old hospital. Behind me, the two sisters walked hand-in-hand hurdling together against the cold wind that was between the buildings. Further behind was my Dad pacing slowly, but as fast as his heart would let him. I said a simple prayer and thank God for families.

Upon our arrival to the hospice room of Cau Nam and when she saw Cau Nam laying there on the bed helplessly unconscious, all of the reserved manners disappeared; my Mom completely succumbed to her heart. She wept violently and hold on to Anh Quoc, as though she would faint. Anh Quoc had to take my Mom away and sat her down on the sofa trying to calm her down. Meanwhile, Di Bay was all broken up as well. Her eyes that were already reddened by tears were filled up again with waves and waves of more tears. She was holding on to my Mom comforting and getting comforted. After I helped the nurse changed the soiled linen below Cau Nam, I went out to the living room to fetch my Mom, who at this time, could not even walk by herself. The grief for Cau Nam was so intense and overwhelming for her.

In the hospice room, Cau Nam was still unconscious and struggling for every breath. He looked old and dried-up. Lonely. Mom and Di Bay sat on the sofa crying their hearts out. Dad sat near the windows, his lips moving slightly as he prayed. Chi Da Thu, Chi Da Thao, Anh Quoc, Son and I hovered around not knowing what to do, but just being there. Huyen (Ti) came in the room and wanted to start a prayer vigil. Thanks God for Ti. As they started the rosary, I sneaked out to go pick up Mo Nam (Cau Nam’s ex-wife), who was coming at Hobby Airport. Chi Da Thao wanted to go with me, but I just could not take her away from her Dad. And besides, I needed to be alone.

In the car, I called Anh Hung and found out that he had just arrived to the hospice. I called Chi Vy and she said she was still having the flu and cannot come to visit Cau Nam. I then called Anh Hu*ng to let him know and he said that he would get there as soon as he can leave work. I didn’t know why I called them, but I did. Perhaps I just wanted to make sure that the bonds between us siblings are still strong as I have witnessed those between Mom, Di Bay and Cau Nam. Perhaps I just wanted to hear their voices and to know that they are still there OK.

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Mo Nam was short and tiny. She walked slowly out of the gate at the airport and her eyes lit up when she saw me. Even though we had not seen each other for over thirty years, something inside me told me that this tiny woman is Mo Nam. Mo Nam smiled gently and said, “Con Ong Chinh, phai khong?” (Mr. Chinh’s son, right?) and she proceeded to tell me how much I look like my Dad. She walked slowly and hold onto my hand as we went out to pick up her luggage.

On the way to the hospice, Mo Nam talked non-stop. She was nervous and anxious, yet she chatted incessantly for an hour while we were in traffic. She talked about God, religion and her recurring dreams; then she talked about her family and her church. She became more agitated when we arrived at the hospice. She quieted down walking the hall of the hospice and finally asked me, “How’s Cau Nam?” I told her Cau Nam is in a very bad shape and that I am most certain that he and her children would be so happy to see her. She was not pleased with my reply, but resigned. Mo Nam was cool, calm and collected, as she walked into the hospice room. She was quickly overwhelmed by Chi Da Thao, Chi Da Thu and Anh Quoc; yet she must have felt awkward being with Co Lisa in the same room. Noticed that my parents and Di Bay had gone home, I quickly and gladly left to go to the IAH Airport to pick up Anh Kiet and Anh Be.

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Dung was happy to see me when I picked her up on the way to the airport. I love this woman. She was by my side everyday for the past two weeks visiting and comforting Cau Nam. Cau Nam even noticed this and thanked her for letting me visit and going with me to visit Cau Nam everyday. He said that he will remember this and bless both of us once he gets into Heaven. Dung just nodded and smiled showing her dimples. God, I love her.

We stopped by a Vietnamese restaurant on the way, so that I can gulp down some “chao long”. I have not even noticed, but I had not eaten anything all day while running around. We ate quickly and made it to the airport in time to pick up Anh Kiet and Anh Be.

They both were tired from travelling, but just as Mo Nam, Anh Kiet chatted away hiding his anxiousness, while Anh Be was quietly weeping. Everytime, Anh Be tried to strike up a conversation, he could only mustered several words before being choked up in tears. Anh Be kept reminiscing about growing up in Vietnam with Cau Nam taxi-ing him around on his Vespa after work. He just came back from Vietnam and still carried with him its sensitivity, I guessed.

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We ran into Chi Vy and her husband Anh Son at the hospice's parking lot, and I was surely happy to see both of them. I knew Chi Vy still got some remnants of a cold, but I was overjoy to see my older sister wanted to pay respect to Cau Nam while he is still alive. We all got back to the hospice to a grand family reunion. Mo Nam, Da Thu, Da Thao, Anh Quoc, Anh Vu, and now Anh Kiet and Anh Be. Cau Nam was still out cold, but a crowd was gathering around him. Son, con Di Bay, Huy-Hoang, Ha, Ti, Huyen, Anh Hu*ng and Anh Hung were all there. Anh Kiet took lots of pictures of everyone. He said that they did not have a family picture or a reunion for such a long time; and then proceeded to click away. Anh Be got deeply emotional. But Anh Vu was quite alone and distant.

Anh Duy and his wife Chi Chi arrived around 10PM. We all gathered around Cau Nam and tried to wake him up. My sister Huyen, who had spent lots of time with Cau Nam, got some responses from him, as he tried so hard to wake up. I whispered into Cau Nam’s ear that Anh Duy is here and wants to talk to him, but all we can get out of Cau Nam were a slight acknowledgement by the squeezing of the hands and the trying to open his eyes. Anh Duy, Anh Be and all of Cau Nam’s children talked to Cau Nam, as our family (members of Di Sau’s family and Son) recessed to the Quiet Room nearby to give Cau Mo Nam and their children some privacy.

Seven of his ten children were by his side last night. Anh Tan (Father Tan), Chi Lan Anh and Anh Hao were in transit. There were laughters of joy and tears of sadness, and then there was togetherness. Cau Nam’s family was finally coming together. I wished that Cau Nam was coherent enough to see this. Perhaps he would rebound, perhaps he would laugh and cry, and perhaps he would finally go in peace.

Again Anh Quoc stayed with Cau Nam in the hospice room overnight, and we all gradually departed. Anh Kiet and Anh Be came and stayed at our home, and we stayed up to one o'clock in the morning catching up. Such good people and such good family. May God bless Cau Nam and Cau Nam’s family.

Vui