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...