Chapter 4 Her Resurrection of Life – Second Coming

On early morning of 4th December 2008 , Ivy was found by our maid, slumped on her seat, looking pale, gasping for air and semi-conscious. We rushed her to the Accident and Emergency Department of Tan Tock Seng Hospital. The doctor broke the bad news. Her congenital hole-in-heart had worsened. The holes had irreparably enlarged and the blood flow in her heart had gone erratic. She was then hospitalised and palliative medicine was administered. Her breathing was very shallow and her heart beat had slowed. The gloomy-looking doctor summoned me and informed that Ivy could leave this world at any time. He beckoned us to get all her family members to see her for the last time. My wife contacted Ivy’s mother and she arrived soon at the hospital.

Ivy’s eyes were weighty with an oxygen mask, helping her weak breathing and tubes all over her.
I called her name and awoke her. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she held my hand weakly. The doctor reminded us that Ivy had already miraculously lived a relatively long life of 44 years. Every time my wife and I visited her, her eyes welled up with tears, gripping my hand - she wanted home.

Given her weak state of Down syndrome and hole-in-the-heart, she would not have lived beyond 35 years. He said that it must our exceptional care and love for her that brings her thus far. The doctor pulled me aside and intriguingly asked me what made me take care of a Down Syndrome girl, which is obviously a humongous task, especially when she is not related to my family at all. I simply summed up to him that I could not take care of all the unwanted Down Syndrome children in the world, but at least I could take care of just one. I have never seen a doctor so in touch with the soul of a patient. For most doctors I perceived thus far, they do not go beyond ministering the physical illness itself. Before he walked away, he patted my back and said “Mr. Hong, I am so amazed by your good deeds. I really respect you for that.’’

My eyes turned back on Ivy. She was pale and her breathing was very shallow. But I sensed that Ivy still
had a fighting spirit in her, wanting to live on at least for while. I got my wife to call for an elder for prayer, from our worship place. A deaconess came soon and anointed her with oil from tip to toe. It was not the ritual of last rites, but it was to overcome the yoke of sickness and that she would recover. But the next day, Ivy’s condition turned for the worse - again. My wife could not wake Ivy in her deep slumber and then quickly summoned the doctor. He examined her and solemnly told my wife to call for family members to see her for the last time. I rushed to the hospital from work and prayed to God that Ivy was not ready to go yet. Soon after the anointing soaked upon her and she awoke.

We visited her twice a day. After visiting hours, late at night, we would sneak in to the ward to visit her.

As her heart beat and oxygen level were dangerously low, the doctors increased the level to 80 percent. But her condition did not improve. A few days later, they lowered it back down.

A few days later, they removed oxygen support completely. We were immensely worried, thinking the doctor had given up trying to sustain her life.

The doctor informed us that they could not keep Ivy in the hospital any longer because they could not do anything to cure her. They then arranged to send her to the Dover Park Hospice for palliative care. On December 19 2008, Ivy was sent by an ambulance. The social worker and the doctor there went through with us very thoroughly the vivid details of planning her last days in the hospice. We were told that Ivy would not live beyond 2-3 months. Planning entailed her funeral preparation and death reporting procedures. My wife and I felt heavy and uneasily planned ahead for her impending funeral.

Ivy’s frail, 83-year-old mother, Jessie, would visit her daughter every day, unfailingly. She would often stay the whole day there. She was immensely worried about Ivy, as she had lost contact with her eldest daughter Lillian, and was not on good terms with Jane, her second child.

In the midst of all the happenings, Jessie lost her home due to some problems with her co-tenant staying in the same rental HDB flat. My wife went all out to help her. She went to HDB to get Jessie’s name removed. This was a necessary procedure. She later got Jessie a permanent place at an old folks’ home under Asian Women Welfare Association (AWWA). Jessie was very pleased with her new home, with plenty of facilities. She thanked my wife for my efforts, and later sent us some expensive chocolates for Christmas. During Ivy’s stay in the Hospice, Jessie would go around the ward, telling visitors about us.

We visited her everyday in the hospice. She was very well taken care of. From nursing care to food, it was a very conducive environment. But the sight of many other patients living their last days makes one uneasy, naturally. The smell of death was strong as you walked past each ward.
One moment the patient residing beside Ivy was well and the next day we heard that she passed away. Perhaps the memories of my own father who passed away in the same hospice added to the dread. My wife was apprehensive in taking the huge lift, which was often used to transport corpses. She insisted we took the steps.

On 13 January 2009, Ivy had her first ever birthday - outside home. We bought a humongous chocolate cake. Her fellow ward mates gathered around her to celebrate the occasion. She was smiling from ear to ear .

Two months had passed, Ivy’s health would have deteriorated but instead her sunken pale face had turned radiant and healthy. The doctor was increasingly surprised and soon decided to call my wife, asking us to bring Ivy home. He said that it was a miracle that not only she survived but she was much more alive than ever. On xx Feb 2009, we brought Ivy home for good. It was like her second coming. The beaming smile on her glowing face said it all, when she stepped into our home once again. Resurrected, raised from the `dead’.


Epilogue - The Long and Windy Road

Through it all, I stuck to truth & authenticity. I was very pleased that I stayed true to myself. I held my head high unrattled. But I do not wish to wave a flag about it.

I want to embrace her life as long as I have mine. I stood the test of time.

Life is a miracle of joy, I don't want to go yet.

I do not want to let my life pass without having made a difference to hers.

A lifeline. I found my calling, I thought. I illuminated her life like the passing moon.

Ivy's whole life and aura revolve around me, I cannot let go. It was as if her life had come full circle.

She seemed like such a wonderful child; I wanted people to look past her disability and see her wonderful soul inside.

I do not know whether it is love, compassion or responsibility, but one thing I am very sure -there is no greater dignity and joy than to give your life for others.

I am glad I made the choice. My heart is at peace. The years ahead may be cruel and the times may be hard, but I'll be there. No expenses are spared. No corners are cut.

Though I carried the torch for many years, my satisfaction comes in the form of the ability to make a difference, a higher calling than just simply for money.

I believe that life is worth living for her, and that belief helps create the fact for her.