Am I pushing my mum too much? I get upset that she doesn't get up to exercise in the morning... I get upset that she rushes off to work, even though her superior told her already that she can go in much later so that she can have her morning exercises and take things slower...
Just now, I was telling her all this in bed, just before she went to sleep, and she seemed saddened. She turned away, and said she's going to sleep. And soon, she fast asleep and snoring. But I feel bad... for being so harsh on her, for scolding her and being too pushy.
She was sighing and again speaking in ways that seemed like she has no more hope any more. And that gets me really down and upset. "There is no cure," she said, "I will not get better. All the doctors say that."
But that doesn't mean that she can't coexist peacefully with the cancer. If it can't get better, then at least don't let it get worse with such negative thoughts and negative energies...!
It really pains me to see her like this. And it pains me even more that she puts her job and the number of hours that she can spend at the office before her health and her peace of mind. When I see my other friend, who has become so frail, so weak, so close to death with cancer and chemo, I fear, I fear and dread that one day I will have to endure seeing my own mother in such a sorry state...
How do I keep positive and remain happy and undisturbed by my mum's negative thoughts, and be there and be strong for her?
18 November 2009
16 November 2009
"I have a dream..."
I dare anyone to visit the hospital on any given day, at any given moment, and come out unaffected.
It’s been two weeks since I last saw my friend. During that time, I have been to lands and islands far, far away, and marvelled at deep gorges made of marble. I have dipped and swam in warm ocean springs bubbling from cracks in the earth, and eaten at a crowded dimsum restaurant in the company of complete strangers.
Yet, all this time, my friend’s world was confined to that sterile room in the oncology ward. Unable to walk more than a few steps without feeling his breath being stripped from his lungs, he has been seeing and living the sounds and wonders of the world, of life, through the presence, laughter, tears and voices of family and the occasional visitor.
Again I said little while I was there. What could one say in the face of pain and suffering? There was a numbness, a perpetual sort of silence that transcends all words, even words the most eloquent of poets cannot piece together. Again, he apologised for ‘wasting’ my time by going to see him, and for being in the sorry state he was in. The morphine is slowly eroding the control he has over his emotions and consciousness. The pain causes him to weakly wail and moan. He feet were swollen from inactivity, his body thin, and frail, no more than skin to bone.
Out of nowhere it seemed, his daughter sang, and made the room come alive, and fill with warmth and laughter.
“I have a dream…” That was the extent of her knowledge of the lyrics. Little did this three year old understand the significance of the moving words of this old ABBA song.
Silently, in my mind, the words slowly trailed across my heart… and in my prayers.
I have a dream, a fantasy, to help me through reality
And my destination makes it worth the while
Pushing through the darkness still another mile
I believe in angels, something good in everything I see
I believe in angels, when I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream, I have a dream
I'll cross the stream, I have a dream
It’s been two weeks since I last saw my friend. During that time, I have been to lands and islands far, far away, and marvelled at deep gorges made of marble. I have dipped and swam in warm ocean springs bubbling from cracks in the earth, and eaten at a crowded dimsum restaurant in the company of complete strangers.
Yet, all this time, my friend’s world was confined to that sterile room in the oncology ward. Unable to walk more than a few steps without feeling his breath being stripped from his lungs, he has been seeing and living the sounds and wonders of the world, of life, through the presence, laughter, tears and voices of family and the occasional visitor.
Again I said little while I was there. What could one say in the face of pain and suffering? There was a numbness, a perpetual sort of silence that transcends all words, even words the most eloquent of poets cannot piece together. Again, he apologised for ‘wasting’ my time by going to see him, and for being in the sorry state he was in. The morphine is slowly eroding the control he has over his emotions and consciousness. The pain causes him to weakly wail and moan. He feet were swollen from inactivity, his body thin, and frail, no more than skin to bone.
Out of nowhere it seemed, his daughter sang, and made the room come alive, and fill with warmth and laughter.
“I have a dream…” That was the extent of her knowledge of the lyrics. Little did this three year old understand the significance of the moving words of this old ABBA song.
Silently, in my mind, the words slowly trailed across my heart… and in my prayers.
I have a dream, a fantasy, to help me through reality
And my destination makes it worth the while
Pushing through the darkness still another mile
I believe in angels, something good in everything I see
I believe in angels, when I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream, I have a dream
I'll cross the stream, I have a dream
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