When Life Comes to a Standstill — A Turning Point!

Life has a way of reminding us that we are not always in control.

Lately, I have been running in and out of hospitals because my husband suddenly lost strength and grip in his left hand. What started as a worrying change led us to a private hospital for an MRI and CT scan.

The results showed no sign of a stroke, but they found a small growth, measuring about 3.2 cm, which was described to us as malignant.

Hearing that word is frightening.

There are so many questions. What happens next? Will he recover? Should we proceed with surgery? What if things become worse? There are no easy answers, and sometimes the best thing we can do is simply take one day at a time.

In the meantime, we have been trying different forms of rehabilitation. He has gone for neuro physiotherapy and acupuncture, hoping to regain some of the strength and movement in his hand.

He is also taking Keppra, which unfortunately makes him drowsy and sleepy at times, leaving him feeling weak and less energetic. And somewhere along the way, without really planning for it, I became a caregiver.

My own lifestyle has changed too.

My "ME time" can no longer simply happen whenever I feel like it. I have to plan it around hospital visits, appointments, meals, rest and whatever else the day brings.

I am grateful, though, whenever I see even a small improvement.

Sometimes the improvement is slow. Sometimes my husband feels that nothing is changing and becomes disheartened. That is when I have to encourage him a little — to remind him that recovery does not always happen as quickly as we want it to.

But I also realise there is only so much I can do.

The attitude of the person going through the challenge has to come from within. I can encourage, support and walk beside him, but I cannot do the healing for him.

And sometimes, in the quiet moments, I find myself asking:

Why do we human beings have to go through such difficult circumstances?

Is there a lesson hidden somewhere in all this?

Perhaps there is.

When my husband was well, he could be proud, stubborn and full of grudges. He would sometimes fight tooth and nail over matters that, looking back, were really quite trivial. I tried to advise him, but there were times when he simply would not listen.

Today, circumstances have changed.

When you suddenly cannot do the things you used to do with ease, you begin to see life differently. You realise how much we take our physical abilities for granted — lifting something, holding a cup, using our fingers, walking confidently, doing ordinary things without even thinking about them.

And something else has changed in him.

He has forgiven his mother and siblings, as well as some business friends with whom he had carried grievances for years. I have even seen him cry when he hears a sad song.

It is almost as though years of emotions that had been locked away are finally finding a way out.

Perhaps illness has a way of stripping away the things we think are important.

Pride.

Ego.

Grudges.

Winning every argument.

Holding on to past hurts.

Suddenly, none of these seem so important anymore.

There is an old saying: “Pride comes before a fall.”

I have been thinking about that saying a lot lately.

Perhaps sometimes God allows us to lose a little of what we take for granted, not to punish us, but to make us stop.

To make us reflect.

To make us appreciate.

To make us forgive.

To make us realize that life is fragile and that tomorrow is never guaranteed.

Maybe when God takes away a little of our capability, He is not necessarily taking life away from us. Perhaps He is giving us an opportunity to look at life differently.

I don't know what the final lesson will be.

I don't know what the future holds for my husband, or for us.

For now, I choose to focus on the little improvements, the small victories and the moments of gratitude.

I choose to encourage him rather than dwell on what he cannot do.

And perhaps I too am learning something through this journey.

As a caregiver, I am learning patience.

As a wife, I am learning compassion.

As a human being, I am learning that none of us should take our health, our abilities or the people we love for granted.

Life has brought us to a standstill for a moment.

Maybe this is not the end of the road.

Maybe it is simply a turning point.

And perhaps, somewhere in this difficult chapter, there is a lesson waiting to be understood.