I woke from my afternoon nap because my five-year-old cousin was knocking on my door. I quite reluctantly opened my door asked him what does he wanted. He told me our abuela wants me downstairs. I check my phone it was only 02:19 in the afternoon. If I could, I would have slept the entire day because I rarely get days-off and since it was holiday, I wanted to savor the few rest days that I have.
I went down and my family was there. My aunt, who was a cathecist greeted me, she said that we need to pray the Holy Rosary. We decided that we should say the prayer in our local language so everyone could participate, but in my head, I thought I wouldn't be able to participate well because I only know the rosary in English.
We then proceeded as we gathered, I knelt and then the family joined in for the prayer. Around three o'clock in the afternoon, the Lord was dead and the children were told to behave. The biko, our local rice cake, was served and after eating, I washed the dishes and then went back up to my room. I stared at the ceiling and had an existential episode-
What is consciousness? Why am I conscious? What makes a thing conscious? And then I fell asleep.
Then the next morning, I had to go to work. The time passed like watching sunset. There was the long wait and then, there was the sun down; there was darkness, the night. I had a long and boring day at work but we had a milk tea in the afternoon and I mused about how we are a slave to our cravings.
Karla.
Age: 24-years-old
Gender: Female
Blood type: Milk tea
That is a joke, of course.
As I was about to end my shift, code blue was announced. For those who are not in medical field, code blue is the term we use to describe a critical status of a patient. For example, we call code blue if a patient goes into a cardiac arrest.
A man was on an accident, on a bloody vehicular accident. When I say bloody, I mean it literally. I was called by another staff to perform an ECG to finalize that he was dead. His family was beside him crying, pleading.
I didn't feel anything, something that is not surprisingly surprising. I am used to something like this. I had been in practice of my profession for more than four years now. I have seen enough to not feel anything at all. I am not saying I am numb, I am only saying I don't feel it anymore.
Is there a difference to that?
I respected the body, I said sorry that we could not save him, I was understanding to the family. All because it was our customs and traditions and it is what humans are expected to be.
I left the hospital thinking that at least the family won't suffer much- thoughts on being dead is easy as you won't feel anything anymore, you could not think anymore but it is who was left that will feel the loss, if there are any.
I also thought that at least the man won't suffer any longer with injuries like that, he would be glad it ended for him quickly, easily- this happened as I was on my way home.
The next morning, I found out that the man committed suicide. I didn't know how I should feel knowing this.
Should I be sad for him that he gave up on life, on his family, on everything? Or should I happy that he got what he wanted? If it was really what he wanted.
For the rest of of day and the day after that, and the next few more days after it, I thought about life and death.
In my Catholic faith, I was told that everything happens for a reason. Be it good or bad, birth or death- God has allowed it and that is the reason. Even the leaves that fall need to have God's permission before hitting the ground. That was what I was told in my Christian faith.
So that means that that man death had also God's permission? Then why is suicide considered bad?
Death in medical, science term is simply the cessation of all vital human functions. So after the heart and brain stop working, is that all that's there is?
Just death, just not existing, just nothing.
