The anxiety and panic attacks have worsened for the past few days.

So bad, that my sister and mother say that they can't bear looking at me.

"I can't look at your face!", visibly disturbed by my prolonged worried expression.

They know I can't help it but they are too burdened to offer words of comfort.

Last Monday, we picked Father up from the hospital.

What a relief that he can walk.

What a scare!

This morning, Father asked me to turn on the 8 o'clock news.

Father has the habit of watching the 8 o'clock night news. 

"Pa, do you think it's night time or day time?", pointing the bright sunshine outside.

"Yes, but it will be dark soon, why isn't dinner ready yet? Can you go tapau?" 

I couldn't handle this in addition to my anxiety.

I cried.