After a few days away visiting relatives in the central and south of the country, I rushed back to Taipei this morning to join mum at the hospital. She was number "53" on today's waiting list, and by eleven o'clock, the doctor had only seen 15 patients.
We sat around the hospital and waited, and waited, and waited. We walked around, had lunch, drank coffee at a cafe, and waited and waited. We talked about my last few days, about my life back in Canada, about my plans and future, and we waited. We talked, we laughed, and I cried as we touched on emotional topics, and we waited. It was close to five when we left the hospital again, our footsteps heavy and our hearts weighed down.
There does not seem to be any good news; the only good news is that there is no worse news. The CEA level is still extremely high, and further chemo treatment is planned for the next two days. I touched mum's hand on occasion as we made our way home, and would sometimes nudge her arm in an attempt to solicit a response or smile from her. For a while, it was in vain.
Earlier, as we waited and waited, I looked at the pond next to the hospital ward. I watched as a leaf fell and caused a stir in the still water. A ripple echoed across the pond, disturbing the peace for an instant, then dying down as the ripple dissipated. Many things in life are like this... there is a disturbance, an agitation, some kind of frustration that causes your mind to stir, but eventually, with time, and letting things run their course, the disturbance dies down, and disappears.
This should be no different from the setbacks and feelings of defeat with which every time we leave the hospital...
Later in the day, mum and I sat and talked some more. "You know, mum," I said, "A lot of people say you are very strong, and that they admire your strength." Indeed, she has gone through so many treatments in the last three, four years, and mum still looks like a 'normal' person from the outline. Her hair may have thinned, her hair may have gone gray, her cheeks bones may have caved in a little from loss of weight, but overall, her body is still fighting, still going strong. I have seen a number of people leave my life in recent years, all succumbing to the terrible, terrible mental and physical torment of cancer. Yet, mum seems determined to stay in my life that little bit longer. Or at least so I hope.
I stroked her arm, and held onto it. "My only wish is that you will be strong, and that you will not think negatively about things. I only wish that you are happy, and that you can come to terms with everything. I can only do so much..."
At that point, I had to rub the moisture in my eyes. As I played with the tears between my fingers. It was difficult to continue, for my mind wandered to imagine how painful and difficult the moment of leaving would be in a week or two... My mind imagined tears, imagined that heart-wrenching feeling of unwillingness to let go... unwillingness to let go of mum as I hug her before leaving home to catch my plane...
"I can really only do so much while I am here. The rest is up to you. I can only hope that when I go, you will live well and take good care of yourself. When you are strong and healthy enough, you will visit me in Canada, or go visit brother and his wife in Europe. Live happily, do whatever you like to do, live life well..."
Mum nodded, and looked at me with a face of calm, with resolve reflecting in her brown eyes.
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