Results

The results are out...

...a big tumour is pressing on the nerves, growing in the spine. Another tumour is suspected in the lower spine. Mum feels well, she looks well, but inside, her cells are slowly being consumed by the cancer.

The doctor was friendly, and attentive. Surgery may not be the best option, he admitted. Sometimes, it is no longer about how long someone has left to live, but how well the person can live. Why undergo a risky surgery, with only a 70% success rate and have to suffer through months of rehabilitation and recovery? Why go through a surgery, when perhaps not long after, the cancer will spread anyways?

Mum was not gsad. If she was, she was doing well at hiding it. Brother on the other hand was obviously affected, his eyes moist, his face besieged and beleaguered by the heaven burden of hearing first hand and realising that mum may not be around for long. But then again, who knows who will be around for how long?

We walked together, along the little creek that flows down from the mountain, that carries lukewarm springs with it down toward the river. Brother walked hand in hand with his wife, occasionally kissing his wife on the cheeks and sharing glances. I am sure he is reassured and comforted somewhat by her presence, and by the knowledge that he has someone to love and to care for him, whatever happens. Mum walked next to me, occasionally holding onto my arm. One day she will let go of my arm, let go of my arm forever.

"When you go home..." mum would start saying, expressing her love and her care only a mother would. "Remember you should..." Minute details, details only a mother would know, details that only a mother would care about. There is nothing more precious, nothing more affectionate, more unconditional than a mother's love for her child, her children.

I was surprisingly calm, collected and together. All the fears, all the worries seem to have subsided, at least for now. Perhaps I am numbed by the heavy reality of mum's condition. Perhaps I have resigned to fate. Perhaps it calms me to see mum at ease, and at peace with her own health, her own body, her own fate. On her face was a small smile. Not a happy smile, but a smile of satisfaction, of recognition. "I have nothing to worry about anymore, and I have had many a good times..."

The reality is the way it is, and nothing can change it. Not worry, not even prayers, not even the tears of a child who tries very hard to make sure nothing bad happens to his own mother. What else can you do but once more recognise and accept that there is but a thin line that separates life and death? It is up to you to decide which side of the line wish to be on.