Wound

31122011
15.50

As the young doctor removed the bandage I saw her wound. Under normal circumstances, I would have turned away, felt disgusted or even closed my eyes. But I looked with fascination, I looked with an eagerness to piece together the bits and pieces of information I can gather about mum's surgery.

The wound resembled a zipper some fifty centimetres long leading from the bottom of her neck down to her lower back. It looked like the skin was held together tightly. "Are those staples?" I asked. The doctor confirmed it. Skin staples, better and more advanced than stitches, which leave ugly marks behind. They will be removed in a week or two, when the skin completely heals and seals together.

That was the first incision down the back. On her neck, diagonally as if something slit mum's throat, is another incision ten centimetres long. Mum cringed as the doctor pulled a long thin tube from under the skin. The tubing was sown under the skin after the procedure to lead excess blood into reservoir pouches. Regularly the  doctors and nurses inspect the colour and quantity of refuse blood and plasma to determine whether the internal bleeding has stopped, which can tell them whether the wound is healing or has become infected. And today the collected liquid has become significantly paler compared to the first day.

I stroked mum's thin, frail arm, held onto her hand as the doctor removed the pouches of blood that have been attached to her for the past three days. She was literally tied down because of the sacs of blood and tubing attached to her, and so their removal this morning was a liberation. One tiny little step toward recovery.

My aunt revealed more details of the day of the surgery. My uncle  (mum's youngest brother) rushed to the hospital as soon as he heard the news of mum's impending surgery on Tuesday. He sat with my aunt and my mum prior to the surgery and was briefed by the surgeons (there were three, four including the more senior and renowned neurosurgeon) about the procedure and what they intended to do. Mum was pushed into the operating room around half past eight in the morning, and came out around 17.40hrs later in te afternoon.

"They placed three lumps of matter into little plastic bags," my aunt recalled, "They were of pale skin colour, mixed with the colour of blood." She was the one who waited outside the operating room for some ten hours straight. She was extremely anxious, worried and paced up and down. Her daughter, my cousin came to join her and calm her down a bit.

"I was so relieved when they pushed her [mum] out again. She was still unconscious, but at least the "evil insect" was completely removed". "Evil insect" being a taiwanese euphemism for anything that causes your body ill, and in this case the tumour which previously compressed the spine. "Those three little plastic bags contained the lumps that caused her so much pain, and it's so fortunate that they have been removed..." A bit more delay, and mum perhaps would not be able to move any of her limbs...

 The hair on the back of her head has been shaven, giving it a strange, punk-like look. Mum's body looks and feels much thinner compared to when I saw her last. The chemo sessions, and now the surgery together will make her lose even more weight. I stroke mum's arms an legs, massage her so that she won't get bedsores. And her muscles feel so soft, so weak, as if they have been eroded or wasted away...

It pains me a lot to touch her at times, to feel how weakened mum has become over the span of eight weeks since I last saw her in October. But I brave a smile and look at her with love and reassurance when I massage her. "Be strong and determined, and tell me if there is anything I can do for you..." I tell her, again and again. She would often smile back, obviously touched.

Second day

30-12-2011

20.43

Another day at the hospital, this time a twenty hour shift. The remaining four hours of the day I went home, showered and napped.

It feels like going to work, and I feel fulfilled. I am tired, but still calm and composed. It was a better night, as mum seemed to have slept almost continuously through to the morning. I was like a zombie and sleep overcame me so quickly, waking only when the night nurse came to check up on mum's vital signs and IV drips. There was a little fever, as her body temperature rose by a little, but that came down when mum slept on an iced cushion.

Today, for the first time since her surgery, the nurse made her sit up. It is quite an ordeal, a painful ordeal, for mum would groan and grimace in pain, and I could quickly see beads of sweat form on her face and forehead. Mum had to learn how to sit on the side of the bed, and in front of her were four legged crutches to support the weight of her body. The trick is to make sure her spine can support itself and that she can sit up straight, which may seem so easy and something we take for granted, but for her, it's back to the basics. In a way, it's like a baby learning to sit, learning to move, leaning eventually to walk steadily. It's a slow process, and takes a lot of patience.

I would hold mum's hand whenever she sits. She's supposed to sit at least ten minutes, but after five or so, the pain is so intense she just wants to lie back down. The surgical wounds are still healing, so much of the pain comes when she moves or extends her back. At least the colour of the blood directed away from the wound and into pouches has gotten paler, a sign that the wound is closing and bleeding is stopping.

A major discomfort is the phlegm that collects in the throat but is hard to get out, especially as mum spends much of the day lying down. The nurses give her an inhaler which she uses three times a day, and that is supposed to thin the phlegm. When she uses it, my aunt like to joke it's as if mum is smoking a water paper, because white mist escapes her mouth after a few inhalations.

To prevent bed sores, mum is encouraged to turn her body once in a while. And I massage her, pat her back, rub her muscles, arms and feet, so that even though she's on her back much of the day, she does not lose muscle integrity. Again, massaging mum brought me back to those nights I used to rub my ex's legs and feet whenever they were sore... Bitter, bitter sweet... But now it is my mother, someone who loves me, someone I love deeply, unconditionally. And it is literally "till death do us part", and I need not fear or worry, like one would with a partner, that one day all  will change with a change of heart and change of feelings.

Mum keeps on thanking me, but I'm not sure for what. Am I not just doing my "job" as a son? Am I not performing my "duty" as a child? I deflect her thanks, for fear she'd get sentimental and start crying. I can imagine lying there, almost completely dependent on others for such simple needs as going to the washroom and feeding can be very frustrating, especially for someone who used to be so independent and who used to roam the world... So I joke with her, tell her that I'm her agent now, and that I'm managing her busy schedule and trying to keep loyal fans at bay because she's too important to meet and greet everyone. Whoever calls must go through me. And not only that, I'm a nutritionist, for I jot down everything and the volume of everything she consumes (in liquid form). And I've become a urine and faeces specialist, who analyses stool and urine samples and reports it to the nurse. And I'm a masseur too, giving her pats and massages (oil, deep kneading, finger-and-toe massage options available on request...) every few hours or so.

Most importantly, my role is that of a child, who so wishes and prays that his mother will soon recover and be better...

--

22.30

I had to lie. And I felt terrible about it. Brother and I have been in contact regularly since I arrived back home. He's very concerned, and I told him not to worry too much for I'll be by mum's side almost all the day.

Brother wanted to know details of mum's surgery and what the doctor said. "Did they remove everything from the spine?" he asked. I said yes.

But in fact, there is a little bit left on another section of the spine they dared not touch. To do that would have increased the risks of causing permanent nerve damage. So there is still some "dark" bits left. For now, it is ok, but with time... Well, with time everything will change.

"What about other bits of the body? Are there still traces of the cancer?" I answered this honestly. There are, the latest MRI scan revealed that, but the doctor did not say exactly where. Is it in her colon? On her lungs? Or on the lymph gland? I am not sure. Te doctor said in a few days, they will conduct some tests, and he will show me the results.

Should I have lied? I don't know. I know more karma points have just been  deducted. I just want to save brother from devastating news, for he is already very anxious and emotional (more than me actually...) I can imagine how he's feeling, perhaps guilt ridden because he cannot easily be here and spend more time to take care of mum. But I assured him again and again, I'll do what I can and told him not to worry. On the phone I could hear him strike his lighter, ready for another cigarette.  I scolded him.

"You really have to be careful with your health and not smoke so much! Look at mum  in the hospital, and you have a wife and kid now!" He was silent, but I think he got the message.

I think once again he realises what I do to keep this family together, to attend to everyone, to try to placate everyone's fears and anxieties, and he appreciates it. In a way, death and illness, first with our dad, and now with our mother, has brought us closer and closer together. Whomever in the face of death shies away and turns away has no idea what life is really all about...

Bodily functions

30-12-2011
16.46
She was embarrassed, more I think because of the smell and idea of having to clean up after her. "I'm sorry you have to do this..."

"Why? You used to clean up after me when I was a baby, and you did it for years!" There was nothing weird about it... Well, except perhaps for when I have to get the bedpan and hide behind the curtain when mum loosens her hospital gown. But other than that, everyone poops, everyone pees, it's the all part of having normal bodily functions. In fact, after three days, I was glad mum said she felt like going to the washroom "to resolve" (解)  things (which learned today was the medical euphemism for pooing).

I don't have to worry too much about mum peeing, for a catheter and tubes direct the urine into a bag. All I have to do is regularly empty the pouch and note the volume of urine and the time. As for the "big job", today was the first time, so there was a lot to learn. As mum is more or less bed ridden for now, she must do it lying down (after some rehab, she should be able to sit on a mobile toilet...) It's a struggle, partly because mum is embarrassed, even embarrassed to say that she needs to go and to trouble me or the nurses. Her cousin who came to visit told her also it's nothing to be ashamed about. "Though he's a boy, treat him as if he were a girl..." She said to placate mum's embarrassment.

She needed to go three times today, and every time the bedpan is set I hide behind the curtain. I came prepared yesterday and bought some air freshener to get rid of odours, and I think that helps mum relax. Once she's done, I take the bedpan, note the shape and size of the collected goods and give her warm water to cleanse herself. I make funny comments after she's done just to "lighten" the mood and tell remind her again it's the most natural thing in the world...

Afterwards mum looks relieved, and I look at her relieved as well. She's been feeling bloated whole day yesterday, and at least now she seems to be getting back to the normal bodily functions, which is very good after such a major surgery.

"Thank you..." she says to me every time I clean up after her. But it is nothing, it is not even remotely revolting for me. "Remember you used to do this for me many, many times a day!"

How heart warming that the roles of carer and the cared for have reversed...

At the hospital

At the Hospital
29122011
01.30

As soon as I got out of the elevator on the seventeenth floor, my cousin was there to greet me, with a smile. "I knew it was you when I heard the doors open!"

I gave her a big hug, and wackily she led me to mum's room. My aunt, her sister, was pacing in front of it. "You've come a long way," she said. The taxi driver said the same thing when he asked whether I just came back from a holiday. When he learned I was here because mum was in the hospital, he said it was touching of me to do that. "It's my mother," I said, "I'm just doing what should be done..."

Mum was lying on the bed when I came in. She open her eyes and one of the first things she said was "I told you not to come!" However weak she was and was feeling, she mustered a smile. It was beautiful to see her smile.

I held onto her hand, the one that for over a year now has caused her so much grief and pain... She responded, and though her grasp was weak, at least I could immediately tell she still has control of her motor skills. I looked at the other arm and hand, and they too were moving, twitching. And her legs were folded upwards.

"The doctor said I can still lift up!" Was it just me, or was that a  veiled joke? They laughed, and I stood there wondering what I have been missing...

I have indeed missed a lot, and it'll take time for me to be on top of things again. In the time it took me to cross the Pacific, the surgery was done, much earlier than expected, for just yesterday they said it would take around a week to get a slot in the surgery room. But health care is that efficient here, and apparently also very effective...

 From sevenish in the morning till around five in the afternoon they operated on her. Ten hours... It was only at nine or so, some fourteen hours after she began the long, long ordeal if surgery, that they moved her to the intensive care ward to settle for the night. She is so brave, my dear mother, so very, very brave...

For now, the details are still vague, and I haven't asked much, but apparently the surgery was a success and the tumour has been cleared. What are the details of the current prognosis, I'm not sure, but at least there is no damage to the spine, and mum still has her motor and speech skills.

Mum said she feels alright, and that she does not feel any sores or pains. Is it because the tumour has been removed, or the effects of the anaesthesia which still has to wear off? I stroked her hands, her arms, which were a bit swollen and dry, but at least they responded to my touch. Around her bed are various tubes of blood and IV drips. To breathe, there is an air tube going into her nostrils. She is connected to a catheter, which I must check regularly and note the quantity of urine that comes out.

"I cannot move my head," mum said, for she had a neck brace which secured her spine and held up her head. I don't know how much discomfort she is in, for in preparation for the surgery, she has not eaten or drunk anything for over 24hours... So while I was being fed four meals and nestling comfortably in my business class seat on the journey here, mum has been fasting and under the surgeon's scalpel. Silently, and ever so heart-felt, I sent my eternal gratitude to the surgeons and assistants who gave mum renewed hope of life...

As of tomorrow (today, as it's past two in the morning now...) mum can begin to take in liquid food. Little steps to recovery, little steps to getting back to her normal self again. For now, all I can do when she feels thirsty is moisten her lips with a cotton bud. As she just had surgery, there is a lot of phlegm that collects in the throat she has to get rid of. And that she can do by herself without the need for an extractor.

I am relieved, happy to see mum seemingly well and talking. Her mind is still clear, and still her old self, for she repeatedly told her sister and my cousin to go home, and told me repeatedly to stop typing in the dark... It's so... mum, and I am happy for it.

Need to get some rest myself, for I feel the fatigue and time difference creeping in... I can barely keep my eyes open....

But at least I'm here now, I'm lying right here next to my mum...

29122011
02.48

Mum screamed out loud. "It hurts, it hurts!" My tears came almost instantly, hearing her  But it must be done.

Every two hours or so the nurses come to flip the body of patients  Mum seemed confused at first, lost at what they were going to do. She protested even, told them to be gentle because it hurts so much.

The two nurses lifted the duvet under her and turned mum on her side. Mum protested and tried to cover herself up, as if afraid that her underbody was naked, and that she felt ashamed. As soon as Her blanket was lifted, I could smell a nauseating scent. The undoubted scent of urine. Mum cried out loud in pain again as the nurses adjusted her neck brace.

I saw her face contort in pain, terrible pain. Her forehead is bandaged, and her hair is pushed upwards. She told me they had to shave much of the back of her head to operate. "It'll grow back," I told her and smiled.

It was a massive surgery mum underwent, one that lasted over ten hours. And it is a blessing that even after such a long ordeal, mum is still very much awake and conscious. As the nurse said when she came by on a routine visit, it's a good sign.

For a while, mum could not fall asleep. "The anaesthesia is wearing off, I can feel the extreme pain where they operated..." She fiddled with her neck brace, which was compressing uncomfortably against her shoulder bone. I tried to help her find a comfortable posture, but was very afraid to move her head too much. A couple of times, she reached out to stroke my hair and my hair, the way my ex used to do. It felt bitter sweet, soothing and nostalgic. For moments, she would look at me and I would look at her. Silent moments, of a mother and child looking at one another in the eyes. How many people can do that and not feel awkward or intimidated?

Mum would attempt to muster a smile, as if comforted, warmed, that I am here right next to here. It is bizarre is it not... One moment I'm on the other side of the world, so far away from her, and now I'm here, so close to her, touching her, massaging her sore fingers and legs with my bare hands... That is love. That is unconditional love, and it can resist and triumph over anything, even over bodily pain and mental anguish, can it not?

It was at that moment I first realised what I had seen till now was mum being stationary. Whenever she moves, there is a lot of pain she has to bear. It will be a long, long road to recovery... How long I'm not sure.

For now, I'll just try to get through the night and see what happens next. Meanwhile I'll need to catch some sleep before day breaks...

To the hospital

29122011 00.00 TPE time

Midnight, in taxi to the hospital, a dozen minutes or so, and this long, long journey will be at an end. Over 29 hours since I began this journey...

The taxi driver listens to taiwanese folk songs, the melody and lyrics of which bring me sentiments of home, bring me close to tears...

Almost there, almost there... I'm almost there, mum...

Finally home

Twelve hours after arriving in Taiwan, I finally went home. Beleaguered, my heart and eyelids feeling heavy, I am in need of sleep. Deep sleep. Not sleep of twenty minutes or so interrupted by wandering thoughts, frightening images, or the sound of mum coughing and moving about in the hospital bed next to me.

So much has happened over the span of twelve hours. The image of mum, bed-ridden, unable to do much by herself is hard to reconcile with how I left her just two months ago... energetic, vocal and reluctant to accept help from others. My presence makes a difference, I hope... my presence, my smile, my calm I hope makes a little difference to her long, long journey to recovery.

Details of the past two days were slowly pieced together as the day unfolded. My aunt (mum's youngest sister) stayed patiently waiting outside the operation room for 14 hours yesterday. Only at nine in the evening did they wheel mum out and into the neurosurgery intensive care unit. When I arrived at twenty past midnight, my aunt finally had the chance to go home and sleep. For two days she has not properly slept on a bed, and only just laid down on the narrow foldaway bed/chair. I used that same bed/chair last night and tried to sleep, and remembered the last time I used one of those was almost four years ago when mum first began doing chemotherapy. Four years (or so) later, I lay on the same type of bed/chair and stared up at the white ceiling of the intensive care unit, listening to the sound of snoring, the sound of mum breathing laboriously through the oxygen tube... Four years have almost past, and here I am in the same hospital, under very different circumstances of course, but it just felt ironic, terribly, terribly ironic. You would believe time takes you far, but sometimes you end up at the same place with the same people, and that realisation feels like a heart-warming, sometimes spine-tingling, dejavu.

The surgeon who operated on mum came by in the morning to check up on her. Everything looks alright, and mum could flex her fingers and thumbs and clench her hands, which is a test to see whether she has regained control over her limbs. I took the doctor to the side and asked him about the surgery. He was perhaps in his early thirties, pale skinned, radiant with energy and compassion. The surgery was a success, for they removed the tumour that had almost completely encased section C-7 of the spine. They operated on two sides, on the back and also on the front. On the back of the spinal column, a tumour lump as large in surface area as three NT$10 coins (around 10cm in length and 5cm in width) was removed. On the front, "dark matter" as large as one NT$10 coin was removed. They had to cut away part of the spinal column, and replace the rotted away part with metallic pins and support to keep the spine stable. Unfortunately, the  "dark matter" had spread lower down the spine to section C-8, but that could not be dealt with, not now...

"There are other cancerous areas that need to be dealt with", the surgeon said, and my heart sank when I heard that. The surgery is not the cure all of her illness, for the cancer still remains. The surgery was crucial only to ensure the tumour growing on the spine does not further damage nerves and cause her paralysis, so that does not mean mum is in the clear. But for now the most important is for mum to rest and recover and for the deep wounds to heal. When mum was turned to the side for a moment, I could see bandaging extending from the top of her neck to the middle of her back. And on the front, close to the throat was yet another extensively bandaged area. "Spinal chord operations are perhaps the most difficult and life threatening," the doctor said, "She is fortunate that she did it when she did. And she is fortunate she still has control of her limbs!" I thanked the doctor again and again. Just as he was about to walk away, he gave me a pat on the shoulder: "Take good care of her..." I will try... I will try.

My uncle (mum's oldest brother) came in the morning with his wife, rushing up from the south. An old colleague, someone who during the last few chemotherapy sessions has come to keep mum company and cook for her, also came. She starting tearing almost instantly seeing mum lying there . "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you cover things up?" Just days earlier, they were together, traveling and enjoying hot springs together. I imagine that auntie felt terribly guilty, for mum fell the same night that they parted, and the very next day her sores got so bad that she was beginning to lose control of her limbs. "You shouldn't be like this. You should not be afraid to ask people for help. You always think you're troubling people, and that makes people worry about you more."  Like mother, like son, I guess...

I informed brother of the latest, and passed the phone to mum. "Why are you crying? I'm alright, don't cry..." Mum had to comfort brother, whom I could hear on the phone was worried sick and sniffing. Later I spoke to him privately and told him not to worry too much. "I'm here now, and [our] aunt is here too. There are so many people around and so many people who are wishing her speedy recovery. Be strong, for mum..." Again, I was so composed, so calm I amazed myself. When my cousin asked me whether I had cried, it was then that I realised again that I had not at all. Where did this calm, this surprising source of strength come from? The support of dear friends far, far away, the wellwishes and prayers of so many who are thinking of me, I would imagine... I hope this strength will last, will carry me forward and onward in the days and weeks ahead...

At TPE

At TPE
23.02 TPE time

Landed at TPE around half an hour ago, now on board bus to Taipei. I should be able to reach the hospital at midnight thirty, if traffic is good.

I slept most of the three and a half hour flight. And I dreamed much...

Dreamed the plane was taking off and landing, taking off and landing time and time again, somewhere in a mountainous area with lots of tall redwood trees. It was very exciting but felt so very dangerous. At various points I feared for my life...

Blending into that dream were images of my best friend in high school, someone I had such a crush on. I saw him, sitting only a few seats behind me, watching me, smiling at me. It was so assuring and beautiful to see a familiar face, even though we have not been in touch for years...

The descent into TPE was extremely turbulent, with the cabin shaking and shuddering so intensely the squeaking sounds of the overhead bins and the vibrations of the seat-pods made me believe the plane was going to tear apart. Rough, frightening, turbulent... A premonition perhaps of the way things are going to be here...

The latest news is that mum is conscious and that she is resting. My cousin sent me a picture of mum before the surgery. I almost cried seeing that picture... She smiled weakly, was dressed in a pink hospital gown, and with both her hands, she did the "victory" sign ("the Asian pose"). Despite the weakness of her smile, she looked strong, and ever so brave...

Just after landing, my cousin sent me another picture. Of mum lying in her hospital bed resting. Her hair was ruffled, and her teeth clenched around a towel. She looked tired, worn, as if she went through such a battle. And she did... A battle for life, a life threatening surgery to battle the odds.

Soon I will see her again...

Soon I will hold her hand and sit by her bedside...

NRT-TPE

NRT-TPE
28122011
19.23 NRT time

Taxiing on the apron toward the runway. Despite having missed the 17.20 connecting flight, I did  manage to grab a quick shower in the lounge and another connecting  flight to TPE. Will be arriving two hours or so later, but so be it...

First time I'm sitting "backwards"'on the plane. Next to us is an Air Canada Boeing 767, on its way back to somewhere in Canada. I saw the red maple leaf on the tail, and it looks and feels so familiar...

But the thought crossed my mind: when will I go home back to Canada again? I cannot but begin to feel that Asia, and everything here, is slowly consuming me and swallowing me in...

The past

The irony, the similarities of my feelings then, and now...

ORD-NRT

ORD-NRT
27122011
14.36 Chicago time

A two hour delay at ORD, finally managed to take off and now at cruising altitude. I can hardly believe it, how just a few hours ago I was still at home preparing in a rushed rush for this sudden trip. And now I'm on it.

My ex was the first I told, and somehow news spread through the little community of friends. One by one they all came by to comfort me, one who even woke up upon receiving a text message in the middle of the night.

For two hours or so, the bunch of us sat in my little living room and four people had laptops, all searching frantically for the quickest and cheapest connection to Taipei. I composed myself, smiled, even made light comments here and there. Though they did not say much, their presence was enough to show me how much they cared about me, how much I mean to them. I thanked them, again and again, and felt apologetic for being a dazed. At one point, I even was so silly to apologise for being such a bad host and not offering anything to drink or eat...

To be honest, I wanted them to go (back) to sleep, for they all had to work or study tomorrow. What good would it do for so many people to sit around and stare at one another and being lost as what best to say in the circumstances? But I know, deep down inside I know, they are there for me, even though it felt like it was a lot of pressure to accept their kind concern.

Eventually I settled for redeeming my accumulation of flight reward miles for a return ticket, instead of buying a last minute ticket for over 2000dollars. My ex, being the online travel guru in finding good deals and values, managed to find a flight leaving at 8.15 going through ORD, NRT and eventually arriving at TPE at close to 9pm the next day. The surgery would have happened and perhaps even be done with, but important is that I'm there for whatever happens afterwards.

It was my first redemption, and within a second the hundred and sixty something  thousand miles I have accumulated over three years and countless hours of flying were dramatically slashed. "I knew one day they would come in useful," I said. Though I always imagined I would use those miles to fly mum on business class to come see me again...

My ex suddenly announced he was coming along the moment after I confirmed my flight. I was livid, and grabbed his computer to stop him. After everyone left and went to sleep, and at close to four or so I began finally packing my bags. My ex lay on my bed ad began sobbing uncontrollably. I was the one leaving in a hurry, the one with a mother in hospital and imminently about to undergo a lifethreatening surgery, and yet my ex was the one who needed comforting...

For a long time, he told me he too dreaded this moment, and that he imagined he would be by my side when I take the long, long flight home. But I told him I was not comfortable, that had too many things to deal with right I cannot afford distractions. I simply cannot...

He made it clear to me he wants me to move on on Christmas eve. Just last week, when mum went missing for almost a day, he left the guy he is seeing in tears when he rushed to come see me. Imagine what it would do to their relationship (or whatever it is they have....) if my ex were to board the plane with me and fly away in the last remaining days of his time in Montreal... I simply do not want that, simply do not want to be the reason again for them growing apart.

As my ex told me frankly, he has wonderful times with the guy he's seeing, and yet he does not see any sustainable relationship there. I was puzzled why he was telling me this. Then at one point, he lay in my bed and told me outright: "Go see other people, move on!" when he knows fully well in the circumstances surrounding my mum hanging between life and death how slight the chances are for me to meet new people. How hurt I was then... So easy for him to tell me to move on when he himself already has... How insensitive that was when I am about to leave for who knows how long, and he tells me in the clearest way ever that it's all over between us... Was he trying to provoke me and bragging about how happy he is with the new guy, and imply that I have made him miserable and anything but happy all this time we have been together...?  So why does he want to come with me on this long trip? I was simply baffled and lost for words why  he was telling me all this just an hour or so before my departure. Here I was in shock, terribly distraught by the news of my mum's condition, and there he is telling me about his relationship status and telling me to move on... How much that hurt!

If he has wonderful times with the other person, if he can be happy and laugh and not be clouded by misery and heavy conversations and years (as he often is with me...) then why stay around me? Why not just go and be happy and forget all this?

He said he'd feel guilty for a long time to come, and in what felt like a veiled warning, he said if he does not go on this trip with me, a lot of things will change in the coming months. He explained the coming four days till he leaves to Toronto to start his new job will be the only time he can be there, physically, for me. And he wants to be there for me, he's always wanted to be there for me, regardless of whether we are in or our of a relationship.

I cannot feel anything else but be ever so grateful for his intention to be there. He really has done more for me than anyone else in the world, and he really has been so supportive and caring ever since we met, ever since that day on 9 december 2008 when we first connected and shared life stories. I shared my worries of my mum, I let him into my life from that moment on in ways nobody has ever gotten into my life, and he tells me that was the day he fell in love with me...

But things are different now, are they not? So many friends keep on telling me , and have kept on telling me, to keep my distance, to take the time and distance to get over him, to insulate myself from getting hurt again and again whenever he talks to or talks about the boy he's actively pursuing. "He's not worth it..." "You deserve much better..." But for a long time I refused to believe it, I was under the impression that one day he would turn around and say to me: "Let's start over..." He even told me to wait, to have patience.

Friends chastised me for continually (until just two weeks ago) doing special things for my ex, giving him special gifts that make him feel remorseful and unable to equalise or ever return the favour... Not that I do things for him expecting something in return, for I do things for him because I care about him, because I love him still... But these special gestures, like a surprise trip to his hometown, a very personal scrapbook and so many little things that touch his heart make him feel guilty and sad, makes him weep and cry. And while I am the one who is distraught and terribly shaken on the eve of my departure, who is the one that is doing the comforting? Who was the one crying?

I must stop everything,  and just let the feelings between us fade or grow stronger with time and distance apart, for we have still been much too close since our "breakup" back in May, even since the time(s) I told myself to wish him well and let go of him... And going home alone to face mum's condition can be that break from the past, can be the one thing that I do for myself without him being around and too involved, for I need to prove to myself I can be strong, I can stand on my own...

And yet I weaken and melt when my ex cries in front of me and tells me he cannot bare to lose me as a friend... I soften and am the one who has to comfort him whenever he bursts into tears when I reject him  coming deeper and closer to my life and personal issues nowadays. How can I do that, he asks me, after three years or so of caring about me, about my mum's condition? How can I even confuse and conflate his care for me and him starting a new relationship with someone when the two are not even related, he asks.

But they are. Somehow, in my mind they simply are. I have repeatedly told him how over the past year or so I have had to deal with two issues that are so very fundamental to my heart and to  my life: my mum, and the greatest love of my life (yet?). And he does not seem to realise how painful it is to continually have to balance the two, to continually have to struggle in order to salvage whatever is left of the two... And what do I have in the end? A lover who left abruptly and for months kept me hoping that we would get back together, a previously strong and beautiful friendship that is in tatters, and a mother who is becoming so frail, so tired and so close to leaving  me too.

What else do I have in my life? What will make me strong and have hope again?

However I explain it, my ex does not seem able to understand he cannot possibly be so close to me and want to run off with me (as well intentioned and simply as a friend in support of another friend) when he is seeing someone else. Imagine what the other person must feel like? When you want everything, you often end up with nothing at all... And I have a feeling he wants to have his happiness and fun with the person he's seeing, and still want to maintain that level of closeness and intimacy with me, still wants to keep me hang on...

And how can he separate deep affection for me and growing affections for another person and not be torn and conflicted? It has to end, I tell him. For his sake, to feel less torn and divided. For my sake so I can really finally prioritise and deal with my mum's issue and ailing condition... And for our sake, if there is going to be any "us" to speak of in whatever capacity in the future.


Just before the plane took off, I wrote him a clear and firm message not to come, and said he knows the reasons why. Not just because of the complications of him starting a new relationship, but also just because it'll seriously disrupt the end of his remaining days in the old life and unbalance the big changes that will occur in the new life he's about to begin. He does not need to spend the first days at his new job getting used to his new colleagues and environment and having to battle the terrible physical and mental stress of jet lag. And I have not even mentioned the prohibitive prices and long, arduous journey... That's too much to ask of anyone, especially for just a  friend (even if it's a dear and very intimate one...).

But on the long long flight, other than thinking of mum, my thoughts also went to my ex. However much he's hurt me, really really hurt, I care about him still. Is it foolish and naive of me to do that after how terribly he's hurt me just before my sudden departure? I would feel so terribly responsible if in my saying no to his intention to visit me he would live with regret and remorse for a long time to come. How will that affect our friendship, how would that jeopardise the chances, if there are any left, of us getting back together?

I do not know, I cannot know...

 And I just don't want to spend too much more time having to think and worry about this when my mum is in the hospital and about to undergo a critical, critical surgery.

There is a time and place for everything. And for now I must focus on my mother, and only on my mother...

ORD-NRT II
08.03, TPE time

I slept. For how long I do not know. Time, date, day, night... It has all become a confused blur. Why was it afternoon when we took off and now only a few hours later already pitch pitch dark over the ocean? Why will it get bright again soon, only to darken to dusk by the time this plane lands in about 10hrs.

A little after eight in the morning the next day in Taipei. The time the surgery is scheduled to begin. I can imagine mum being wheeled into the operations room. Who was by her side? Who held onto her hand? Who gave her hugs and whispered to her ears softly telling her not to be afraid...? I asked my cousin to do all that, to hold her hand, to hug her and to tell her things will be ok.

For I am not there...
I am not there...

For I am still on my way, trying to rush there as fast and steady as I can, but the distances are great, and obstacles seem to be mounting. Another 14 hours or so, or even much longer now that the flight is delayed and I will most likely miss my onward connecting flight...

 If only I could transport myself somehow into the operations room, watch over mum as she undergoes this life threatening, but also potentially life changing procedure. If only I could see her face, touch her forehead, wipe away any tears or sweat on her, and squeeze her hand to let her know I am thinking of her, I am loving her from afar...

But I cannot.

I simply cannot... Herein lies the powerlessness, the forlornness of a child, however well intentioned, however deep his heart is radiating in love, care and compassion for his frail, ailing mother. He is so utterly powerless in the face of the great distances of ocean and land that is separating his dear, brave mother from his arms...

I swear earlier just before waking I heard someone call my name... "Weiwei... Weiwei..." I swear the voice, that of a woman, sounded so much like my dear, brave mother's...

Where is the fear? Where are the tears? I do not feel them, I am so numb... Numb to the extent I feel guilty now. The bravery, the calm lingering still is soothing, yet at the same time so dehumanising. How can I not feel? Why do I not fear or dread or shudder any more?

My mind drifts and wanders... I try not to think too much, try not to let my mind run wild and start to imagine details and create images of moments that may make me weak and cry...

My mind wanders and drifts... From my mum to my brother, for whom it Is already one in the morning. I can only imagine how brother is lying awake, so scared, so torn as what to do, perhaps so guilt-ridden too... How many cigarettes has he consumed today? How much tears has he cried? Earlier as I spoke to my sister-in-law, I thanked her... Thanked her for being there for my brother, and for bearing with whatever mood swings and heaviness that may ensue in the coming days. For I know brother will be distraught, and he will need someone to comfort him, to hold him close...

ORD-NRT III
17.21 NRT time

Starting descent into NRT, with over two hours of delay. The connecting flight is scheduled to leave in around twenty minutes.

Eight hours since the surgery is supposed to have begun. No contact since I boarded at ORD around 14 hours ago, no news about the latest developments.

I wanted to call, because planes have satellite phones (though at exorbitant prices....) But I cannot believe in this day an age, there is no possibility to call or send messages from onboard this United Airlines aircraft. As beautiful and nicely revamped as the cabin may be, it does not change the fact  the plane is still aged and dilapidated. Having comfortable fully lie flat bed does not make the cabin crew more helpful when you approach them asking for advice on flight  connections, even when you tell them about the severity of the family emergency...

I at least slept. Deep sleep for a two or three hours. Normally I would watch movies on such long flights, but even that has lost its appeal. I slept, no dreams, no sounds, no disturbing thoughts. The gentle calm that has seized my mind since I got the phone call last night is still with me. Though, at various moments during the 12 hour crossing, I felt my ears itch- a sign (or superstitious belief?) that someone is thinking of me...

YUL-ORD

0142102914823 YUL-ORD I feel strangely calm. Have I been preparing for this in my sleeplessness nights? Have I been mentally bracing for this very  day during nights when my mind was filled with terrible dreams and frightful dread?  Where does this calm come from? I'm enjoying it, the calm; it is carrying me, allowing me to brave through the turbulent shock of the latest news of mum's hospitalisation and impending surgery. A strange, gentle calm... Or is it just the lack of sleep and fatigue? Fatigue too can be soothing, pain- and emotion-numbing. Do I perhaps detect an queer sense of excitement mixed with disbelief that this day has finally come? Is there a sense of relief that perhaps after such a long, long time, this may be the end of everything, the end of all that I have so feared and imagined? Nothing is more real than this moment. No imagination, however vivid and fantastical the mind, can conjure this very moment of sitting in the little jet and me typing this on my iPhone. Perhaps the calm comes from knowing that this vital surgery will (if successful) remove the tumour that has for the past year or so caused mum so much pain, suffering, dozens of chemo and radiotherapy sessions. Whatever the reason, I am calm, I am so surprisingly calm, and brave.  I have not shed a tear, not yet.  I have been so close, but the calm and strange peace that reigns my mind now is containing the tears, for I know there will be a time and place for that. And I am and feel  so fortunate to be so calm, to be so brave still. This calm I'm enjoying now has allowed me to comfort mum, to let me talk to her without betraying my fears, my worries, for at this very moment, a mother who has to hear her scared and panicking child sob and lose control of all emotions is the least she needs now.  And my calm, brave voice has allowed me to comfort brother, who was sniffing on the phone, and I can only imagine distraught and so very lost... My calm, this strange inner peace, has allowed to thank and thank again my friends who stayed with me for hours in that mad search for a suitable ticket at 1am... The calm has allowed me to thank and thank again all those family members and relatives and friend's of mum's who are now gathered by her bedside at Taipei Veterans General Hospital.  So what happened...? Why am I flying now and reliving feelings and fears I had almost four years ago when I packed my bags and rushed home to catch a glimpse of dad?  Somehow I knew it, somehow I felt it. I was not imagining things when for the past two weeks or so I felt mum has been particularly  quiet and hiding something from me. I was not too wrong when I told my ex the other day that I may need to head home soon. And here I am, doing exactly what, strangely and without any logical explanation what my intuition and suspicions told me about something being wrong. Details are still vague and hard to come by because of poor phone connections and difficulty having a proper conversation. My cousin called after eleven after I just came from a walk to clear my head. Thank goodness I saw it when it rang picked up almost immediately. She passed me to mum, and it was mum who said that she was in the hospital. Admitted I believe yesterday night (or was it morning? Hard to figure out the chronology of events right now) mum said she began feeling her limbs getting very weak. At various moments during the seemed, when she was again visiting her friend in the countryside, her knee could not hold her weight, and she just collapsed. Yesterday, not long after (or was it before?) I called her, she went to the washroom and her knee collapsed again, causing her to injure her face. She got herself to the hospital and immediately saw her main physician, and the famous neurosurgeon. Together they admitted her into the emergency ward immediately, and began to do scans and tests. Her youngest sister (my cousin's mum) rushed from the south of the country to be with mum, and they have been there with her since... The tests and MRI scans ("the massive, thunderous machine", as mum reminded me, for I went with her to get a scan almost a year ago...) revealed that the tumour growing on the spine has not gotten much bigger, so it is possible to operate and remove it surgically. If not done soon, the compression of the nerves will cause her to lose more and more of the mobility of the limbs and eventually lead to paralysis ("Like Superman [actor Christopher Reeves]", mum said, something she has repeatedly said whenever in the past she spoke her fear of becoming paraplegic...)  "I don't want to burden people. Imagine if I were dependent on people for my every need... It's best to have the surgery now..." Mum said that the doctors are top notch, and they reassured her that they have performed this kind of surgery numerous times. "It's time," she said "I can't bear the pain and always having to rely on painkillers..." As difficult as it was to contain my wavering voice, my shaking hands, mum said a couple of things that almost provoked outbursts of tears. She said she regrets that this year she might not be able to go see dad on the anniversary of his passing together with brother, my sister-in-law and my nephew for the first time... And throughout, she kept on telling me to stay put and study for my exams (as if I would have the ability to focus...). I was glad she told me, for a great fear is that she would hide things from me till it was too late... And as much as she persuaded (in vain of course...) not to rush home, perhaps deep down she wished to see me. Whatever she felt, as I spoke with her, with one hand I held onto my phone, with the other my trembling fingers frantically began searching for flights leaving the next morning. But, looking back now, I amaze myself at how strong I was, how strong I remained throughout the frank conversation with mum about her latest condition... All thanks to this strange, strange calm. Mum was hopeful, or at least she tried to sound it. She said she has confidence in the health care team, and that she believed the surgery would go well. What did she really feel deep down inside? I cannot, I could not, look into her eyes and see what her true feelings are...  She said she wants to see my nephew. She said she wants to get better so she can travel again. She said she wants to come to Canada and attend my graduation... That was the moment when it got too much that I choked and tried to cover it up with a cough. To which she said: "Take care of your cough, go to sleep already!" Typical, typical of mum, my dear, brave mum... At the airport I called again, and found out more people had arrived to see mum, to be with mum. I spoke to her, wanted to tell her things before it is "too late". "Be strong, hang on there, I'm coming home, I'll be home soon! I love you mum..." I'm not sure if she heard the last, but most important bit, for it was and felt awkward to say it, especially in Mandarin. As much as I do for her, and have tried to be there for mum, I've never (I don't think) ever said "I love you" to her.  But there are times in life when you know, when you feel if you do not do or say something, you may regret for the rest of your life, that may make you may feel guilt ridden forever. So I sent her a recorded video message in case she did not hear me. "Mama... I'm here at the gate about to board. Hang on there. Brother and I, we're both thinking of you, sending you metta. I love you, take good care, see you soon." The magical, beautiful and true-to-the-heart words I said in English, for it felt more natural, more real that way... The cabin air is dry, the engines are roaring and the plane is starting its descent into ORD. The first leg of what will bound to be a long, long and difficult journey is about to end...  I slept perhaps ten minutes or so since getting on board. The excitement of rushing home again, barely two months after I returned from home is keeping me awake. The excitement of what I'll face and have to deal with at home is keeping me awake... Another journey, another long long journey to go...

Homeward bound

Heading home...

This is it.

If you can't have it all...

If you can't have all, just give and take what you can.  There's so much potential, so much beauty and positiveness that it would be a waste to throw it all away, to jeopardise it all over broken hearts and dreams...

Sleeplessness

I am so tired but I cannot sleep... Dreams, thoughts, fears keep me from the fragile peace within that I have strived so long to find... Dreams, proliferations of images and words sabotage the true rest and calm I so long for... Be strong, master the emotions, contain the mind... Let the emptiness of feeling be a source of strength, let the hollow echo inside be space to fill life and waking moments with a brave new world...

Christmas day

First few hours of Christmas day, lying next to my ex, who is breathing heavily and falling asleep. Tears, sobbing, crying... Before we used to fall asleep ao beautifully in each others arms, before he said to me there was no other place (other than his own bed) where he slept better than with me...

And yet lying next to me, I seem to have the ability to make he cry, make him sad, remind him of the unhappy things in life, remind him of what could have been but is not. I feel terribly apologetic, terribly guilty, and bitter. How did two beautiful friends,  two lovers, somehow turn so sour and allow a growing distance between them to drive them seemingly further and further apart? How did two people who used to tell each pterosaur everything somehow descend into moments where tree are awkward silences and many things left unsaid...?

Is it me, me because I've been too tenacious, too fearful of losing him and therefore have been trying too hard to hold onto him, but in the process am pushing him, repelling him away?  There is a gap between us though we sleep on the same bed...

A terribly and frightening divide I once thought could and would never surface. Yet it is there... My heart and his heart are drifting apart... We are in different places now, perhaps we have always been in different places, wanting different things, needing something different from one another...  And now that is clearer than ever before, nine days before his departure from this city, and perhaps from my life...

Eve of Christmas Eve

'tis the eve of the Eve before Christmas Day. For some reason, this year does not feel so special. I listen to Christmas songs on the radio, I've put up decorations with friends, I've even bought lots of food and drinks in preparation for a big feast with friends later this evening... And the snow that has stayed away till today finally fell, making it a real White Christmas...

But I don't feel the Christmas spirit. I feel blasé , uninspired, not really moved by the festivities (though the Nutcracker helped a bit to boost the feeling inside me...). It feels as if this holiday season came soon quickly, too quickly, and I do not even realise it. What have I been up to this December that Christmas just crept up on me? Traveling, working on finishing my thesis, and caught up by worries of my mother's ailing condition, agitated by fears of slowly losing my good/best friend, my ex...

I know, Christmas is a time for counting your blessing, for being thankful of all the people in your life, for having hope and dreams and wishes... And I am truly blessed in many ways, in more ways I care to remind myself of, in more ways I really actually notice living from day to day...

But this year, it just feels so dull (so far... It could all change in the coming days...). Is it because this year I completely did not spend any time or effort writing dozens of cards for friends and family around the world? Or is it because I just am so tired to get caught up buying and giving gifts?

Christmas... aside from the commercial aspects, aside from the religious roots, it's a wonderfully warm and magical season of the year. But I'm not feeling it at all this year...

Snowstorm

Braving snow and ice, I left my apartment at midnight twenty, hauling a huge purple suitcase. I' coughing badly, and have a headache, and just want to go sleep... But I'm on my way...

 Why do I do this? For a friend. And because it's probably one of the few nights i can surprise him so.

There are reasons why I shouldn't do this... For one, I don't feel comfortable sleeping at his place any more ever since he said he's "seeing someone". I just cannot relax fully knowing perhaps in the same bed my ex has been having intimate relations with another... I just don't want expose myself to more hurt, more heart ache than necessary...

And after all the help I've offered my friend, he wrote me a message today saying  I've only been there to help with the exciting fun of setting up a new home, but not there to help him with the difficult task of taking his old home apart... It hurt to hear that from him, because I've really tried and tried so hard to help him in whatever way, despite having been terribly busy (and terribly sick still) myself. But I guess he's just frustrated at the million and one things he has to do before leaving and moving away.

So here I am on the metro, on my way to his place. Purely to help a friend in need, a friend who is desperate for any help. I don't expect anything, and with the many things that are going through my ex's mind right, this little gesture may seem insignificant. But I'd do anything to help, and to show that I care.

Abuse

A harrowing report on child abuse... and this is just in the United States.

"Abused children are 74 times more likely to commit crimes against others and six times more likely to maltreat their own children..."

This begs so many questions I do not know if I can ever answer...  

Phone calls

Something is wrong. Before, mum sounded energetic on the phone, but nowadays she sounds just tired and down. It's heavy to deal with in the morning, first thing as soon as I wake up in the morning to be talking to someone who sounds so tired and unwell. Why do I call at that time? Why do I put myself through heavy conversations that more or less set the "tone" of my day...? Because I feel responsible... 
Sometimes, after speaking to her, I feel so exhausted, and I just close my eyes and go back to sleep... Because that seems to be the easiest way to blink out the heaviness, to let the aroused feelings of anguish and frustrations settle.

Today, she sounded even worse as her voice sounded very coarse. She said it was because she took some herbal medicine, which is quite concentrated, and within an hour or so of taking this medicine, she is not supposed to drink any water. But even so, hearing her voice like that wasn't reassuring, especially knowing from my uncle and aunt that mum has become visibly frailer compared to before.

I tried to cheer her up, and talk about the exciting ballet I went to see last night with friends. But mum just was tired and wanted to go to bed. My excitement was dampened, and my attempt to distract her from brooding thoughts of painkillers, pains and lethargy failed.

These days I search and search so hard to find something to cheer her up, but I cannot think of much. I myself am in need of cheering up... I myself need someone to make me laugh, make me smile...

A few more days and the gift package my friend and I made should arrive. Hopefully that will bring her renewed feelings of freshness and joy, hopefully the gifts will touch her and warm her during these cold, cold and dark Winter days...

Cold

Mum may have been found, but noticeably she sounds more frail and weaker. On the phone today she told me again that she feels personally the treatment does not seem to be working any more. "So many treatments, and I'm getting weaker and weaker..." Is there an end in sight? How much longer? How much more?

The tiredness, I hear it in her voice, I hear it in the way she talks about how her days, which mainly  consist of staying at home, watching TV and surfing the net. Even just reading takes a lot of energy, and she feels like she is losing her eyesight, and straining hard to see... When she went "missing", I called my aunt, and she said mum has really lost a lot of weight, and that she will try to spend as much time with mum as possible to make sure mum eats properly. "Because when she is alone she doesn't eat well enough..."

Mum said her feet and hands are really cold, and that another cold front is fast approaching. The other day, my ex and I were at this exposition of arts and crafts made by local artists and craftspeople, and he insisted on buying something warm for mum to wear. He actually proposed to buy slippers decked with lambs wool, but I said that it would be too warm and that she would never wear it. I said that in a way also so my friend would not have to spend so much money, especially as he has already bought a lot for mum. And the slippers were close to a hundred dollars a pair...

Funny thing, when I asked what I could send her for the new year, she said perhaps some warm slippers. How wrong I was... So earlier today I rushed to the expo again to buy the slippers, and placed it inside a box containing all sorts of goodies and gifts.

At the bottom of the pile, I included a copy of my thesis. The thesis I finally finished and dedicated to my mum. Inside, I wrote a long message, thanking her (and dad) for all the support and encouragement she has (they have) given me throughout my life. "This thesis is about preventing conflict in outer space and concern for the natural environment," I wrote, "Because these are values that you [my parents] have instilled in me since childhood."

I'm not sure what mum will think when she reads that. But with the completion of the thesis, soon the Japanese daruma doll mum bought in Japan a few years back can have one of his eyes "opened". For the completion of this degree is a life wish of hers, and I have finally been able to accomplish yet another, and make her proud.

turning away

"How can anyone turn away and not feel the least guilty?" I asked "How can anyone do that and sleep at night, knowing how much hurt has been caused?" These questions have plagued my mind for such a long time, even though I know I probably will never know the answer. Somethings will in life always remain a mystery. And you just have to accept it.

"Not everyone feels as you do. Some can switch off their feelings and get on with their lives. So should you."

Those words I knew were coming. I expected them. I too must one day learn to be smart, to turn away and not look back.

lost and found

Mum was fine. eventually after dozens of times calling, after so many people searching for her and trying to contact her, she arrived back home safe and sound.

She did go to visit her friend an enjoy many soaks in the hot springs. She had a relaxing time, time during which the reoccurring pains and sores did not bother her so much. She felt bad that so many people were looking for her and became so worried. A friend of hers, who calls everyday to check up on her, almost didn't sleep. Brother reportedly smoked a whole pack of cigarettes out of nervousness. I sat at home, trying to find things to do to distract myself, while calling and calling every hour or so... I even found flights and half packed my bags just in case I needed to fly out this morning...

I said that its all a sign that so many people care so much, and that it's special to be thought of so much. Mum said she was touched by the big international search operation, and laughed when I told her my fear that she had misled me and instead checked into the hospital for surgery. "So pessimistic!" she said of me.

I'm relieved that mum is alright. My ex came by late at night to keep me company, interrupted a date he had just to be with me. I wasn't very responsive, and was even distant and rude toward him when he came by, despite me repeatedly telling him not to. But came and stayed, and showed by being there through this episode, as difficult as it is to comprehend, how much he loves me...

I'm relieved mum is alright. A heavy heavy weight was lifted from my shoulders, and for a while after I finally saw mum on Skype I sat in bed dazed and trembling, holding tightly onto the teddy bear mum gave me... It felt like I was holding her, hugging her tightly, and not wanting to let go.

"It's like a fire drill..." This entire episode of disappearance and mobilising so many people to search for mums whereabouts felt like preparation for something. It was just false alarm this time, and at the end of the day could smile again...

But one day it'll not be just a drill but for real.

Disgusting

He told me my behaviour in recent weeks disgusts him, that at times he cannot  even bare to see me or my face. Yes, I've become extremely bitter in the past few weeks, especially ever since my return from Taiwan in October, when a day later he went off on a trip with the "guy he's seeing".

My ex told me a few weeks ago not to think too much, not to worry, to have patience. Nothing serious is going on between him and the guy he's seeing, he told me. What he said made me feel like he would at any moment turn around and say "i want to be with you". The flirtatious comments, the sleeping next to one another, the intimate moments now and then only added to that feeling.

Last night, he slept over at my place, and come morning the mood soured when he said he'd be seeing the guy he's seeing.

How can he do this and not feel at all conflicted? How can he one night lie next to me and want to have warm, beautiful hugs when the next night most likely he'll do the same with another boy? How can anybody not feel at all torn inside? Sure, I caused this, and that's what my ex will tell me when I ask him. I caused this mess, and I am very sorry for it... But at times, especially when my ex told me to have patience, to not worry, it's as if he's trying to hang onto me while he goes and tries to see if things will work out with this guy he's seeing.



I don't blame him, but myself for being so foolish, for being so silly and ignoring my friends' warnings to stay away from my ex and to avoid getting hurt.

He tells me my behaviour over the past few weeks have made it more and more difficult to like me, and has cast doubt on his mind on getting back together with me.

I agree... I have been a vile and disgusting creature, driven by jealousy, possessiveness (even though I don't own him at all, even though I have no control over his heart and his mind...). I have descended to such vile depths to taken a little man from his apartment, an incident that caused him much distress and later disappointment... What have I become? How has this entire episode, the lingering relationship and tattered friendship between my friend and I  turned me into a monster driven by bitterness and frustration? I have only myself to blame, and I look at myself and feel vile and disgusted, ugly and unlovable...

I know I caused all the mess, I know I cannot lament anyone, for we could have had it all were it not for my holding back and hesitations. And the past few weeks, my feelings of inadequacy, insecurity and frustration are pointing to one thing... He's not worth it. He's not worth me beating myself up and feeling so poorly about myself when in the background is mum's ailing condition (and today sudden disappearance...). He has been there to support me, to hold me and to make me strong when I most need someone... But now he just somehow makes me feel weaker, more scattered and mote insecure about myself than ever before. Before he was a source of strength, now he's somehow become a drain on my energy and happiness... And it's so sad, so very sad to see that happening, to see us, best friends, descend and slide seemingly to distant friends who because of the feuds and unresolved issues, are becoming more and more distant.

It's me, it's not him. I care about him still deeply, perhaps too much, and I want him to be happy. But more and more, through our arguments, my sudden turns of "bitch*ness" as he terms it, my lashing out, feelings of bitterness and frustrations are irritating my mind and senses, taking over my thoughts and waking moments....

And it is so ugly, so very, very ugly to be and feel this way...
I can hardly recall when I have ever felt so ugly and deflated...

Nutcracker

I was lured into dressing up for the evening. So I excitedly put on my suit, a nice tailor made shirt and a classy tie to go with it, thinking we're all going out to a fancy restaurant.

Making sure I was ontime, because my friend said the table would only be kept for us for fifteen minutes, I left home a bit early and arrived with minutes to spare. Once in a while, especially at this very special period of the year, it's ok to "splash out" and splurge. Even though I was a bit taken aback by how much the dinner would cost so I still went. Besides, I've not really "celebrated" since handing in my thesis.

My friends arrived, and my ex handed us all a piece of paper. I was puzzled... Weren't we going to dinner? I didn't eat much for lunch thinking there'd be a fancy feast at night. Instead in my hand was a ticket to see Casse-Noissete (the Nutcracker)...

I was a bit dazed, a bit surprised to have been deceived into thinking and preparing for  something, but it turned out to be something else. I guess it's only fair that I play tricks and try to pull off big surprises on my ex, so he's "paying me back" with an unexpected surprise of his own. Funny thing was, some time ago I  actually asked if he wanted to go with me to watch the ballet, but he was non committal. And I wanted to surprise him by just buying him a ticket to go together, and  were I not in a hurry today, I would have probably got the ticket...

The performance was beautiful, simply magical. As a child, I listened to the Nutcracker story over and over again. The picture  book I read and re-read till the pages were torn at the sides. I can still picture the tin soldier and the ballerina, how they waltzed and danced late into the night...

Later on, for a period of time during my university years, I would get lost in the tsaikovsky's grand compositions whenever I rode the tube. I know the music through and through, and it has been forever it feels since I last saw the performance live on stage.

The costumes were bright and colourful, the decor warming and fairy-tale like. I was soon pulled in, and like a friend said, reliving the dreams and fantasies of a little child who could dance and play with soldiers and ballerinas. The music, the dance, the swift, agile movements and steps. I was absorbed by the performance, touched by that magical, magical spirit of Christmas I have found ao lacking this year...

Still missing..

Almost  24hrs since I last spoke to mum, since anyone in the immediate range of friends and relatives spoke to mum.

Still out of contact.

If I cannot get a hold of her by morning, I'm flying out.

missing in action

I last spoke to mum at around 11am Taiwan time. She said she was just about to head out, after complaining of severe sores and aches from the latest treatment. It has been three days, but because of the cold weather she said the recovery is taking longer, and she's not been able to exercise and get the toxins out.

So she said she'd go visit a friend in the east of the country, where hot springs come out of the tap. The warm water and being in the countryside will do her good, she said. I thought not much of it, but did find it bizarre that she would go travel so soon after her latest treatment, especially as it's a time for recovery... And she seemed eager to get off the phone for some reason...

I woke up and tried calling her mobile phone to see whether she arrived ok. It was nine and again ten at night, her time, when I tried. But neither times did the call get answered.

I thought she was asleep. But brother called me around noon (one in the morning Taiwan time) and said mums gone missing. A search campaign was began, and several messages on Facebook Walls of mum's best friend and her brother reveal the extent of the worry. Mums been incommunicado since at least 4 in the afternoon her time. People have been trying yo call and get a hold of her, but the mobile is not picked up.

Did she not bring it with her? Did she have it on silent? Nobody knows. From her friends to her relatives, everyone has been trying to locate her and find out whether she's alright. An auntie who calls mum everyday has been extremely concerned, as she mentioned on my brother's facebook page that mum has complained of severe pains over the past few days... And after a hiatus of over two years, suddenly last week, mum's youngest sister went to visit her and stay with her. More and more, I noticed that over the past few weeks mum has been quiet on her condition, perhaps because she did not want to worry me while I've been busy trying to finish off my thesis...

 Brother said he was extremely anxious the whole afternoon. I am seeing terrible premonitions of mum... In my mind, I imagine grabbing my suitcase and going... Sick, sick with worry... And I'm so tired, so very very tired. Just when I thought I could relax a bit after finishing my thesis, after a long weekend of helping my friend set up his apartment, this suddenly happens.

It could all just be false alarm, an overreaction... Perhaps mum is all well and fine and enjoying herself with her friend.  But mum usually has her phone with her, and would even pick up late at night... But so far she's completely disappeared and concerns are mounting...

What if she checked into the hospital to have surgery...?

What if something happened to her in her way to her friend's place?

What if, what if...

If only I could know...

Hiding...

On the way home to montreal, a long weekend helping my ex move to his new town of toronto.

A busy three days of moving, furniture-buying and -building. I was glad I could help in little ways, help him make his new apartment feel more like home.

When he first went to collect the keys to his new place about two weeks ago, it was a completely empty apartment. On the first night, my ex had to sleep on the floor. Save for three suitcases of clothes and personal items (including a collection of stuffed animals) there really were just four bare walls. Secretly, as part of a series of his birthday surprises, sent him a "welcome home" card, actually expedited it to ensure that it would arrive on the day he first enters the apartment. In it I hoped that he would soon feel at home in his new home, and hoped he would soon make new friends and happy memories so that he does not feel so lonely in the new city. He said that card made him cry... As it was also his birthday on that day, inside his suitcase I hid a nice blanket mum bought and wanted to gift him. That night he slept using the blanket. Just little touches, little surprises to make his feel special, because he is special to me...

That's also the reason why I worked so hard, and with help from his parents and friends, to make him a scrapbook to constantly, and hopefully always, remind him of who he is and yo never loose sight of who he is

After this weekend of furnishing the place shelves an essentials (and finally his bed was delivered), the place really does looks more and more like a home. I helped him put up his fridge magnets, a collection from all the places he's been to, some of which were with me. That was a memorable moment, just the two of us sitting on the floor and putting up magnets, recalling trips we've been on together.

Helping him move was an experience of mixed feelings. I'm really glad I can help him settle down, place some personal touches here and there so that when he finally moves in at the beginning of the year, it'll have a familiar, personalised, feel to the place. It's important, especially moving to a new city, starting a whole new career and whole new life,  to have something to remind yourself with memorabilia and gifts of where you came from. .

One such gift that went up on the shelf is  a wood carved toy canoe with two little figurines inside, which I gave my ex last year. It's a symbolic gift, at the time representing the hope of us being together and 'sailing' on the currents of life.  At the bottom of the canoe I wrote in black marker pen "Life is best sailing together" (or something along those lines). It's also a gift I sent my brother and my sister-in-law for their engagement.

Seeing that canoe brought sour feelings to my heart. I don't know why I had the urge to take the little figurine that was supposed to represent me out and keep it. Was it feelings of bitterness lingering from our past? Was it out of vengeance?

No... Seeing "me" in that canoe just felt so wrong, so out of place. I do not belong there in that canoe anymore. time and time again I am seeing signs of that, time and time again seeing my friend so eagerly want to contact the guy he's seeing, just makes me feel that little wooden figurine is  best replaced by another (or perhaps already has been replaced by another...)

My ex was distraught when he realised that one figurine went missing. "Where's my man?" he kept on asking. At one point he appeared to be tearing. I told him to look around a bit more, because the man I had taken and put it inside a bag. I know, it was mean of me, terribly mean...  But I was lost why it mattered so much. I do not belong in that canoe anymore. I don't...

I asked him why that missing figurine means so much. And he said it was very a symbolic gift of he and I. And he said  the figurine going "missing" is a bad omen that he'll be all alone in the town he's going to live in. I assured him, he has friends, a wonderful apartment with everything he needs, and a new job and start of a successful career is waiting for him. Why does a "missing" figurine matter so much?

 At times during the last two days, my was saying things as if he wants me to move to Toronto, and yo actually move into his apartment. I don't know if it's just him being playful (and somewhat insensitive to my feelings...), but I don't see how he can even propose that given that we're broken up... I sometimes really don't understand him at all, and he confuses me with such strange outbursts of cute names he started using to call me when we (officially) began going out.  It's strange to feel this way, and he told me that it hurts when I tell him that the way he behaves around nowadays feels like he's playing a game with me.

Two more weeks and he will be gone, will have moved away to a different city. Two more weeks and it would become harder for us to see each other whenever we  want to, whenever we feel the need to seek and find solace in each others arms.

Time will tell what will happen to us, if there is still an "us" to speak of. Time will tell whether the distance and time apart will break us or bring us closer to knowing what we mean, what we really mean, to one another in one another's lives.

A whole new beginning

Sometimes you see signs, hints and clues telling you to move on. When the whole world is moving on, is changing and advancing forward, why don't you? Why can't you? "Keep calm, and carry on", as the British famously coined the phrase during the last world war to soothe the national fears and boost morale. So too must I be calm, look forward and just carry on as if nothing much matters.. Not the prospect of death, not the premonition of loss or impending fears of loss and uncertainty, not even fear itself matters... Carry on, move on, and take life, and the people you encounter in it, as they come and go...

it is done

It is all (almost) over. Two, three days of long hours, yesterday, save for the hour and a half or so, I almost completely went without sleep. My ex came by to encourage me, despite the heavy argument we had earlier. He slept in my room while I worked. From one till three, a little break, then pushed on till eight, when he got up and made me breakfast. He didn't want me to do a thing, and even did the dishes (which he rarely has done). I was taken aback by what he was doing for me, despite the poisonous words I uttered to hurt him earlier, intentionally or not...

I feel like a complete zombie at this moment. This moment should be the happiest in a long time, but it just feels bland and mundane. I cannot even lift my lips to smile, to laugh, let alone muster the mood to celebrate. And I'm ill on top of this.

This is the moment I've been waiting and working toward for two long years, delay after delay. And it's finally come. Even my supervisor was pleased, and through the secretary I learned that he has been commending ny work behind me. It may explain why my supervisor has been so eager to talk to me about getting me involved in some projects...

Thesis is finished, work projects ahead... And yet my heart is heavy, and my head feels dizzy. The lack of sleep has to do with it, of course, but I think it's more than that... Even in the midst of treatment, even when she was feeling extremely unwell and sick, mum was encouraging and kept on saying how proud she was of me. That was very painful.

This thesis I dedicated to my mum, and there is a paragraph in the acknowledgements about her. It is for her that I've been working hard. It is for her that I've been staying up so late at night (even when she tells me it's so unhealthy to stay up late and not sleep...) I know this thesis is as meaningful for me as it is for mum. Because it is a life wish of hers to see me finish, to see me graduate, and hopefully to see me start something new and do something with my life.

And now it is done, all done. Yet deep down I feel so terribly, terribly empty inside. How I wish I could share my feelings with someone close...

Breakdown

Breakdown


How did we get to this? All he wanted was offer me dinner on the eve of my thesis submission. But I rejected him. I said no because I don't want to have anything to do with him.

And yet I bring him fruits and make him fresh lemon juice when he's I'll... And yet I comfort him because his granny's health has deteriorated over the past few days. I can give him myself, offer to do things for him, but I don't accept him trying to help me.

What's wrong with me? All he wants to be is a friend, what we've always been, regardless of whether we're together or not. But I can't even do that. It seems as if I'm deliberately spoiling our friendship, or the remnants of it. For whose sake? I want to say it's for his sake, so that he can move away and resolve me... But he turned it around and told me, perhaps rightly so, that I'm doing this for myself because it's easier to just walk away and drop everything...

Perhaps that is true. I don't know. I'm just so confused and hurt. By myself, angry at myself. Hurt seeing that again I've made the one person I care about so much cry and cry and be disgusted with me. I don't want to hurt him... I want to hold him, reassure him that no matter what, even if we're apart, even if he's found the love of his life and genuine happiness, I can be there for him still as a friend, as a best friend.

Can I do that? Can I do that with no ill feelings, with no anger or jealousy, without harking back to how I make myself feel like he's abandoned me and left me for another? I don't know...

I'm so confused, so frustrated with myself. So angry at myself for making my ex, my friend, cry and cry. I'm so angry at myself for (deliberately?) wanting to ruin a perfectly beautiful friendship because I can't get the intimacy and romance I want...

Final few days

Upon returning from Europe, I immediately began to work. It's hard, especially given that I'm sick and have a runny nose and sore throat. But it has to be done, I really have to push myself to complete my thesis, the deadline of which is in two days.

There aren't so many changes that I need to make, but the formatting, footnotes and bibliography is sure going to take a lot of time and effort. At least most of the research has been complete, and it's now more the mundane details to fine tune the 100+ pages to make sure it is presentable, and maybe even publishable.

My supervisor has ever been so kind and patient with me, and especially in these past few days, he and I have interacted much more. It seems he has a lot of confidence in me, and even though I've not yet fully completed or submitted my thesis, he has already called me to discuss future projects that I could be doing with me. That says a lot, especially coming from a professor of his seniority, and someone who is very respected in the field of space law.

I feel tired, and ill, but I really need to finish... Push myself a bit more, and then I can relax...

Distance

It's growing between my friend and me. After my recent trip to his hometown, after seeing him so eager to be in contact with the guy he is "seeing", I have realised it's time to stop dreaming. At one point, he told me outright that what I'm feeling now he felt before too. I can't see why, maybe I'm just too self-absorbed to see why... did I make him feel like he needed to compete for my attention or care? Did I make him feel useless and lacking in value by messaging and chatting with someone else when I was in his presence?

None of that matters now. Two more weeks he has left in Montreal, and after this, life will be different. He will be gone, and the distance between us will grow even more. He will start his career, he will find his own life and happiness elsewhere, and I need to start doing the same for myself. I don't want to feel again and again like I need to try and try so hard to please him, to please anyone for that matter. 

Nulla in mundo pax sincera

Blando colore oculos mundus decepit
at occulto vulnere corda conficit;
fugiamus ridentem, vitemus sequentem,
nam delicias ostentando arte secura
vellet ludendo superare.

 This world deceives the eye by surface charms,
but is corroded within by hidden wounds.
Let us flee him who smiles, shun him who follows us,
for by skilfully displaying its pleasures, this world
overwhelms us by deceit.

 

Exercise

As mum had been saying that the weather is too cold to go outside to exercise, I posted  a youtube video of an exercise routine that she used to do at home.I told her that even if she doesn't feel like going out, she can still get her daily exercises indoors. On top of that, I made a video of myself (and my teddy bear) doing the movements in an attempt to encourage her, and make her laugh.

"I tried to do the movements," she said, "But my bones hurt..." She appreciated the gesture, and she'll do what she can, however her condition is such that her pain really comes in the way of her moving or exercising too vigorously. My heart sunk upon hearing that...

Again, there was a silence in our conversation. Mum sounded very tired again. She kept on saying she wanted to go shower and sleep. It's about time yes, but in the span of five minutes, she said that three times, as if she was in a hurry to get off the phone. I feel there is something she is not telling me.

In my mind, mum was avoiding the topic. But I wanted to know, I needed to know.

Is it bad of me? Is it causing her anguish and reminding her of what ails and pains her when I can and ask how she is doing? Do I have a right to know? Maybe I should just call and pretend like everything is normal. Maybe that is the best way about it all... To avoid the topic, avoid the "C" word, avoid talking about hospital visits and doctor's appointments. Just talk about mundane stuff, talk about the stuff and idiosyncracies of life...

So I asked. I asked anyway... about her appointment with the doctor today, about what he said. "Nothing much," mum said. Things are just the way they are...

 Treatment continues tomorrow.

Pains...

Mum apologised. "Why? Why are you apologising?" I asked. We were talking about breastfeeding, about my sister-in-law who has been breastfeeding since my nephew's birth. Somehow, mum remembered that when I was still a baby, she only breastfed me for a little while and had to stop, whereas my brother was breastfed till he was many months old. "I had to go to work, and it hurt a lot to squeeze out milk..."
She said I once 'complained' about not having been breastfed--something I don't remember at all. She said she was sorry that she stopped with me, because breastfed babies are healthier and have a stronger bond with the mother. I laughed, because it was very silly what she was saying. Am I not (relatively) healthy? Do I not have a strong, beautiful bond with my mother...?

The weather has been so cold that mum went to the hot springs and enjoyed a nice lunch and afternoon soaking in the natural springs close to where she lives. She said she felt much relieved, and for a while her aches and pains went away, so was really basking in the temporary break from her almost constant physical ordeals. And she began, at her own initiative, to talk about her condition.

She went to see her main physician last Friday, and she complained that her elbow joints and the area under her armpits are getting very painful and sore. The doctor prescribed her a new kind of painkiller, a drug that lasts up to twelve hours, she said, compared to the one she used before which lasts only up to six hours. "It's the lymph node," she said, "When it hurts like this, it means that the lymph node is swelling."  Which in turn means that it has become infected... Infected, most likely, with cancerous cells. All the doctor could do is prescribe painkillers, and in two days time, she will have her next chemotherapy.

Tomorrow though, she will go meet the neurosurgeon who first confirmed that her tumour had spread to the spine area. It's been almost four months since she last saw him, and she wants to have an assessment of her situation. Mum has been told that if her pains and sores get to the point where she cannot use her arm anymore, she must immediately call the neurosurgeon. On her fridge is a hotline that she must call, and surgery will be conducted within a day or two. Because when, or if, that time comes, the her condition will have become so critical that surgery  is the only way to stop the tumour growing on the spine from causing permanent nerve damage, or even paralysis...

I thanked her for telling me. However sad  I felt, however traumatised and hurt by the latest report  of her condition, I can only accept. I bid her good night, and wished her a beautiful sleep... Because in those couple of hours, when she is in the land of sleep, there are no pains, no sores, no doctors, no cancer cells...