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...
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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...
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