Visit

I've been looking forward to this day, and it has finally come. It's been around three weeks since we last saw one another, and finally after all this wait, my friend is arriving today to visit me. At times in the past few weeks, the days and minutes seemed to by ever so slowly... All this time, I think we have been missing one another's company and presence, and I think I can say that we are both excited, in a variety of ways, to get together again.

It's a long way for anyone to travel, literally half way around the world, and it 'just so happens' that he had a ticket he needed to use. Whatever the reason he is coming to see me, I feel honoured and grateful that there is someone who is willing to do so much, to go so far to see me. It makes me feel special, and cared for, and I treasure that deeply. At this moment in time, when my life and my feelings are in a state of uncertainty and are prone to emotional setbacks, I think I need the presence and support of a dear friend more than ever.

I'm not sure what will happen during his visit. I have a few things planned, and am looking forward to time alone together. We always have a lot of fun travelling, doing things and exploring together. There's some connection between us that rarely seems to tire, even after knowing one another and being in one another's lives for more or less two years now, and I look forward to rekindling that bond again.

Whatever happens on this trip, I told him, and also told myself, not to have too many expectations. People are often disappointed because of expecting too much... expecting for things to turn out perfectly, expecting the weather to be beautiful, expecting people to be the way they want to be. Not having expectations can be surprising. Surprisingly fun too.

I'll just try to enjoy the moment, every moment, and fully take in what precious  time we have together in the coming week.

Euthanasia

On this damp, chilly morning I took mum up the mountain to nearby Peitou. Famed for its natural hot springs that bubbles from the bowls of the Earth, the area is populated with many spas and hotels. The recent cold front and drizzle made us all the more determined to go for a soak.

As the intense heat mixed with the cold air, shrouds of white mist would rise from the green lake. At times, as the curtains of mist drew closer and closer, the majestic mountains in the background would be shielded from sight. In the air, the pungent scent of sulphur can at times be choking, yet the still silence so soothing to the senses. I sat in the different pools, bare naked and alone for over an hour, soaking in the relaxing atmosphere, and let my tense muscles and mind go. At times I got up and would just stare into the distance, into nothing. Ever since I came home, rarely have I felt such peace and emptiness of my mind...

Mum too enjoyed herself thoroughly, and came out much later than the time we agreed to meet (the spa is separated by gender). I took the time to sit and sip tea as I read the newspaper. One of the headlines, something that has been in the news recently, grabbed my attention. As the first country in Asia, the Taiwanese parliament yesterday passed a law to allow relatives of terminally ill patients to end life support. Though the decision requires the consent of close relatives (eg. spouse, children, and parents ), and requires the approval of two medical doctors and a panel of medical, ethics and legal experts, it does pave the way for ending the unnecessary suffering of patients and of relatives. One of the medical conditions that falls under the new 'euthanasia' law is terminal cancer that metastises throughout the body.

I read the news coverage and social commentary carefully. "One needs not only live well, but also needs to go [die] well", was the remark of a mother who had to watch her young daughter go through painful and unbearable treatment for terminal cancer. "No one should have to watch a loved one suffer..." After months of chemo therapy, of blood transfers, of all sorts of therapies, the daughter eventually passed away in a pool of her own blood, as the doctor repeatedly tried to resuscitate her. That memory, that image will however forever linger in the mother's mind.

"...could I ask you something?" I asked carefully, unsure how mum would respond. I told mum about the latest law, and asked her her opinion of it. "Please, take the time to think about it, and we also need to talk about it with brother too..."

She smiled, and looked calm and at ease. "If there is a more humane way to die, then I would choose it.  All that pain, all that pain will erase the beautiful memories of life... I don't want to suffer."

My worst fear, my worst nightmare is having to watch mum suffer unbearable pain, and not being able to do anything about it. It's like what the monk once described, having to watch a loved one burn alive in a house that is ablaze, but being helpless to rescue him/her. I've seen it in my dreams, and at times I see it in my bleak and vivid imaginations. No body has to undergo such pain, pain that cannot be described, cannot be matched, but can only be described as torturing for the body, for the soul, and for all those involved.

"When dad passed away, I was there... I held onto his hand, I whispered in his ear and told him to let go. That was an quiet way to pass [away]," I recounted. We cannot choose when we go, how we go, but we can somewhat influence the way we go, and try to make sure we go peacefully, quietly, with dignity.

It's not come to that day, that moment yet, but it is something that I'm glad mum and I could talk about with a clear mind and without fear or remorse. Perhaps that day may never come... perhaps when that moment does come, I will shiver and be afraid to sign away her life.

But at least for now, mum and I have an understanding. Life needs to be lived, but when the time comes to go, go quietly and go with pride...

UPDATE: 25 March 2012
There is a difference in the terminology and translation. The 'euthanasia' law is actually the provision of palliative care in a patient's final stage of life. It entails the signing of a DNR (do not resuscitate) form and the agreement with the medical team that there will be no attempt at treatment, and all attention will be redirected to making the patient comfortable until the end of life. In Mandarin, euthanasia is 安樂死 (literally: "comfortable and happy death") whereas palliative/hospice care is 自然死　(literally: "natural death").

Family history

I quickly packed a light bag, and hopped on the high speed train. Within three hours of waking up and deciding to go south, I was standing on the platform at Chiayi Station, and breathing in the warmer, fresher air of my parents’ hometown.

It was a last minute decision, as mum had been feeling unwell and thrown up a few times the day before. But this morning, she looked and said she felt better, and encouraged to go. “People are waiting for you…”

Indeed, a whole host of people have been eagerly awaiting my return, ever since they found out that I’ve been in Taiwan. Aunties, uncles, cousins… It’s a sort of tradition of mine to try to pay as many people a visit as I can, so that no one feels left behind, so that no one feels like I prefer one person to the next. Because I really don’t. You may be able to choose friends, but you cannot choose your family, or who you are related to. So I’ve always felt a great affinity toward them, and even having lived abroad for so many years, they are still on my mind (and now, increasingly on my Facebook…) and must-visit list.

I cycle around Chiayi, on a bike with a basket in the front, sometimes ringing happily the bell as I criss-cross and navigate the narrow lanes and streets of this old city. A city where my parents grew up, where my parents met, where my parents got married, where I used to spend all my summers and long holidays, where the family would always gather on special days and on special occasions. The streets of Chiayi are filled with smells, sights and sounds of my childhood, of my grandparents, of those yesteryears of innocence and play with my cousins.

Having grown older, each time I return to this small town in rural Taiwan and do thoroughly enjoy visiting members of my distant and close relatives. I enjoy seeing how everyone is doing, how people are growing and developing in their lives—even if it means I have to recount numerous times how my life is going in Canada, and tell people what exactly it is I’m (supposed to be…) writing a thesis on.

On these visits, I learn a lot about my family, about where I come from. Perhaps being a sentimental someone who attaches a lot of value to the past, learning about the lives and histories of my parents and their parents never ceases to fascinate me. Earlier today, shortly after arriving, my aunt (dad’s older sister) took me on a little tour of where my grandpa came from. It is a backwater and poor village named “Cow Peach Bay” (where according to one story, a village developed where the original settlers used to tie water buffalos around a peach tree), the main source of income was, and still is, from oyster farming.

I wandered through the little alleyways, peeked through holes in rundown and abandoned one-storey red brick houses, and felt like I was going back in time, reliving memories and stories of my grandpa, who passed away when I was only two. Metal shacks and houses no bigger than a few square metres crowded with families of eight or more were the norm those days. Seeing the past makes me appreciate more the present, treasure more what I have and how hard my forefathers (and foremothers) toiled to raise a family and continue the family line. Even though I cannot imagine or know fully what life was like back then, it is intriguing and touching to see with my own eyes the humble and hunger stricken beginnings that my grandparents and their parents worked so they could provide food on the table and education for all their children.

Seeing the past, comparing it to the present, and measuring it against the possibilities future makes a person, a family appreciate life and people more. My grandparents may have already left, my dad may have already departed, but life continues on and on. Life, filled with its sorrows, its joys, its tears and its laughter, continues on and on no matter what, and all the people are mere characters that play temporary (at times too temporary) roles whose paths happen to cross at the same time, sometime for a long time, sometimes for a short time. With the upcoming wedding my brother, who is the oldest and first male of the family, it is as if the story of my family, a story like all stories, complete with birth, marriage, and death, is coming full circle.

For now, with all the attention focused on my brother, I’m able to avoid the questions of when I’m going to get married. But here and there are already voices and whispers: “Oh, with your talents and good looks, you must have lots of girls following you…” “Oh, whoever is your wife will be very lucky…” I just smirk and smile and keep quiet, and maintain my policy of not saying anything unless asked directly. For a number of years at least, I can still stall and say I’m studying, or I’m just beginning to work… but inevitably people will ask, especially in a very family-oriented culture like where I was born and raised in.

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Though my personal belongings were just the things I had in my little bag and the clothes I had on me, I pulled a trolley full of goodies and gifts to give.