Down South

Down south, it is so much warmer. Close to 28C today as I sat in the sweltering heat. Had to strip down to my undergarments to keep cool, for the sun was almost unbearable.

Second day of my stay in Chiayi. Eating with relatives, meeting and chatting, sometimes even just sitting down at a table and listening to the grown-ups talk. It brings us all together, even if for a very limited amount of time, reconnecting us, and defining us again as family and relatives.

To be honest, I feel a little gap, a divide in the circle of relatives. Yesterday was spent mostly with people on dad's side, but it felt like we had to be careful what we said, or how we acted, because some of them don't have a high opinion of us... Besides, sitting in that loud and crowded restaurant was exhausting, and I really didn't feel like talking much.

Today was much different though, with mum's relatives. A quiet little room for lunch, just the few of us, great food, and good conversation. The atmosphere was much more at ease. Tomorrow, we plan to head south to Kaoshiung to visit uncle and his family.

The only thing is... mum has been having severe diahrea for the last two days. It all started when she suddenly threw up yesterday while we were about to enter a restaurant. She saw a pile of intestine lying there, and just couldn't help it. Puke poured out of her mouth, her nose. I turned just in time to catch her arched over and throw up right there on a crowded street. I cleaned up her clothes, patted her back, and bent down to wipe her shoes. She had put on nice clothes to go see relatives, but after that she looked so frail and so embarassed...

I am concerned.

Side effects

Sometimes I'd silently stand by her bed and watch her sleep. Watch her rest. Watch her recover, if ever that is possible. The top of her head has grown a little grayer. Even the faded dye cannot hide the passage of the seasons, and time slowly creeping, ticking away. Her cheeks have grown thinner, and her eye lids more layered. Perhaps from age, or perhaps from fatigue. On her face, patches of freckles have appeared where there were none before. As people get older, they get freckles. But the more chemo people get, the more freckles they get too. I cannot tell which from which.

And sometimes I'd lie by her side, and feel the faint beating of her heart. Quietly so as not to wake her, I'd reach out to touch the tips of her fingers. Fingers, thumbs, toes, the ends of which have become increasingly numb. Worsened when she touches cold things, she says, and worsened also when the weather suddenly becomes cold and damp, like it has been recently. All part of the side-effects, which more and more are taking over, and more and more are prolonged. It will take two years for all the effects to completely go away. I try to imagine what that numbness, that tingling sensation must feel like. Is it like putting your fingers in the socket? Or the feeling of hitting your funny bone, only more permanent? While reaching out to touch the tips of her fingers, I'd wish that those uncomfortable sensations would leap into my body and stay with me instead of her.

"Don't worry about me," she'd say, "I'll be alright. When you're not here, I still have to manage on my own."

And so I will leave, and soon she will be on her own.