Weaker

The last few times I spoke to mum, she has audibly been weaker. It's the chemotherapy therapy every two weeks. Even if she tries hard to recover from the sideffects by eating healthy, exercising and resting well, nothing can dispel the toll that the deadly doses of chemicals that she has been injected with has on her mental and physical wellbeing. Even if mum supplements her western medicines with traditional, herbal treatments, there is only so much the body can take... Especially when she has to undergo much of it alone...



A few days ago she said her White blood cell has dropped to 3000 from all the chemotherapy she has been doing. A 'normal' count is 4500-10000 units, and White blood cells are the essential part of the body that keeps diseases and infections at bay... a low count is reflected in tiredness, and fatigue, which by the sounds of it mum is experiencing.



Just calling her, I could hear she was at the oncology ward receiving her seventh invitro chemotherapy since she began early December. When will it stop? How much more cAn she bear? And most important of all, is her condition overall improving? All I can do, however feeble, however poor, however irrelevant, is send mum my goodwishes and prayers when I sit and meditate in silence.

I hate to call her everyday an just talk about her illness, because it reminds her constantly that she is ill, and that I am concerned, even from such a great distance. She always tells me not to worry, not to let things affect my mood and my work...

But it is hard not to, especially being so far away and so powerless to do anything about things... And increasingly I feel I am not really able to talk about things to people, because frankly I feel my problems and fears are burdening them. Even to my boyfriend, however well-intentioned and willing he is to share my burdens, I now only occasionally mention things on my mind and the state of mum's health when he asks.

This blog, regardless of whether anyone reads it, regardless of the quality or the repetitiveness of the writing, is a powerful outlet for me to vent my frustrations and fears when life deals blows to me and to loved ones around me, time and time again. It is what keeps me from breaking down, from just losing that precious, precious gift of hope, and longing that one day I can look back at this all and realise I am able to overcome one of life's most challenging tasks of dealing with sickness and death...