Getting better...?

I waited next to mum's bed in front of one of the ultrasound rooms. Before long, another hospital bed was wheeled and parked next to mum's.

"You will be better again! They are going to take a scan and see what medicine they can give you. They will cure you and you can get up and do everything you want to again..."

On the bed next to mum's was an old lady, probably in the late sixties or seventies. Hurdled over her, three other middle aged ladies, perhaps her relatives, perhaps her friends. The one who spoke held onto the patient's hand tightly.

"Do you feel pain in your stomach? The doctor will cure you. The doctor will give you medicine to take the pain away..." The lady had a forlorn expression on her face as she spoke. It was as if she did not believe what she was saying. The other two ladies nodded quietly, but even their facial expressions betrayed their discomfort with it all. The one who spoke looked up temporally and saw me looking at then. I flashed her a forced smile. She returned with another forced smile. In the forced nature of our smiles was an understanding, a silent understanding among caregivers. Sometimes you must lie. Sometimes you just must lie and tell yourself and the one you are caring that things will get better. It's easier, ironically it just is.

The lady lying in bed lifted her head up. Her nose was plugged to an oxygen tube, her eyes dazed and confused. Her face was expressionless, lost. Her mind was gone, that much I could tell. Did she understand what the other lady said to her, even though they were not exactly true? Even though the words were spoken with sincerity, the reality is often much cruder and crueller. Did she feel pain, did she know perhaps her time had come, slowly but surely had come?

"You will get better! You will recover and be your old self again..." the lady standing over the patient said before the doctor wheeled her into the imagining room and out of sight.

I looked at the lady disappear, quietly wished her peace and no suffering...

I turned to mum, and from her expression she saw and heard the entire episode too. I held her hand and told her "You will get better! You will recover." She looked at me and knew I was mocking death, mocking illness...

Mock, mock... Sometimes all you can do is mock.