I was eating a watermelon a few minutes ago, and a pain washed over me. I remembered Tariq Dahmas's passing, and remembered how baba's appetite was taken away by the cold, unfeeling hospital staff and doctors who starved him to death when he had an amazing appetite, made him reach the point of not wanting a taste of anything within 5 days. Allah yakhudhum. They starved my father.
I still see the image of him gulping down that small, 4 oz bottle of Danone yogurt drink like a starving man, with no reservations, not even caring that we were all looking at him with shy eyes. He gulped it down like a starving man and wished for more. May you be swimming in a Paradise of sweet tasting, cool water ya Abi. May Allah take them for treating my father that way. Coming in the middle of the day, at 2 pm, and telling him not to eat anything or drink anything till the next morning so they could run a ct scan on him. And him muttering, 'la hawla wa la quwatta illa billah.' Another day of starvation for a man who was already down to 115 pounds. Another day of starvation, when he didn't need to. He could've done that stupid CT scan and have only fasted 8 hours before it, not 18. I hate them and the system for its cold hearted unfeelingness. And then, just three days later, we were begging him to take a spoon of soup, a sip of a drink. But he didn't care for food anymore. All he wanted was water. Irhamnee ya rab.
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I still feel deep rage toward them, especially since every time I try to remember how he looks, all I can see is him all withered and starved in his hospital bed. Not the strong, big man who never feared to speak his opinion that Baba was. Allah yir7amak Baba.
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