Pains

I forget far too easily that I am not the one with cancer. I forget far too easily that I am not the one with constant throat aches when I drink, eat or just swallow my own saliva. And because I forget so easily, I push mum too hard, and get frustrated whenever she appears to have so much difficulty eating and drinking, whenever I feel she is not eating enough.

I don't know why I am frustrated and even angry. It is not directed at her. It is at the entire situation, and how slow it is taking for her throat to heal ever since her last radiotherapy. The doctor said around two weeks. It's already been three, and counting. It is unbearable to see her screw up her face whenever she eats or drinks. But that has become something routine with every sip or every bite. And I lose my appetite too when she is like that.

I don't know what I can do to help her. She has taken all the prescribed medicine that her physicians have given her. Stereoids, anti-pain medication, morphine-dosed tablets. But the throat is still inflamed, and it seems her one of her tonsils is also inflamed... And only today did she reveal to me that she has felt this way throughout the trip, but she was so good at concealing the pain, so as not to make me worry.

She wants to wait a few days, rest at home and see whether the symptoms will go away. All this time, I thought she was getting better, but how fooled I was. Her bouts of coughing, the dryness of the long flights she has taken (four hours just yesterday), and mum talking as if everything were normal, even though her voice remains coarse and lost... all these factors are delaying her recovery, or perhaps even making her condition worse.

I helped clear out her suitcase today and do some laundry that had accumulated over the last two weeks. In her suitcase was a pouch, perhaps four, five kilograms heavy, loaded with pills and medicine. I closed my eyes when I held that in my hand, felt the heaviness of all those potions, all those chemicals, all those drugs that she has to take in every day to keep the tumour from spreading. "It will spread quickly if I stop taking them," she reminded me yesterday, not long after we landed. I opened my eyes, felt a pain tear through my heart seeing and feeling all those pills and medicine in my hand.

I forget too easily that I am not the one with cancer.

But I feel so utterly useless and unable to help take her her pains...

Home, sweet, sweet home

A little past three in the morning, outside, it is pouring with rain. But at least I am home again.

As soon as I got out of the taxi, I could smell the scent of skunks in the neighbourhood. A familiar scent of suburbia, the scent of garbage days, of sweltering summer nights. Home, sweet home.

I brought all the suitcases inside, and sighed in relief. It seems like it's been forever that we've been on the road, lugging our four large pieces of luggage and three smaller sized ones with us as we slowly journeyed eastward. Finally, for the coming few weeks, we can have the comfort and convenience of  being at home. My cosy, little home.

I put mum to bed, made sure she had everything she needed. Within minutes of getting back home, I cleaned the sheets a bit with a lint roller, changed the duvet cover, refreshed the pillows, and took out brand new towels I had bought for her months and months ago, expectant of her visiting someday. And this day has finally come. I sat on my chair and watched her climb into my bed. I could hardly believe it, hardly believe that she is finally here, in my bedroom, in my own little home. I gave her hugs, welcomed her again and again into the little realm I have built up for myself. It was late, but I began already telling her about how I built this and that furniture, and how I painted some of the walls myself (with help from my friend).

She sat on the bed, looked content, perhaps a little troubled by the dust and uncleaniless, but she knows I have been away for almost two months, and she knows why. The calendar on the wall still shows May.

Typical of mum, barely had she entered my home, she started noticing things... cat hair everywhere, piles of paper on the floor, and yes, seeing my bedrooms, she started to talk about feng-shui and how best to (re)arrange the beds.

That is my mum, ever caring, ever nosy. And she will be here with me for three weeks to come.

testing

In Banff

It was a rough night, and I slept badly due to the bad circulation in the room we were given. Though it's a luxury hotel, I could hardly believe it when at close to midnight I called the reception and was told that there is no air conditioning. The lady offered to come open the windows for me (as if I didn't know how to do that already...) and said they could bring up fans to keep the room cool.

So I slept and was only half awake at eight, and snoozed until eight twenty-five or so. I reluctantly got up, and took a look at our tour itinerary. And it was only then I realised: we have a tour of the area starting in five minutes!!!

I don't know why I had the impression it was supposed to be tomorrow, but I quickly got dressed and rushed out the door with mum. The little tour bus was already waiting, and the guide came out to greet us and lead us onboard, where seven other people were already waiting.

So together with (somewhat older) people from Australia and Scotland, we drove around and saw some of the sights here. The guide was a very pleasant and well-informed retired school teacher, and seeing that mum did not speak English too well, he would occasionally explain slower and more carefully so she could understand.

"So you're traveling together?" he asked at one point.

"Yes, she's my mother," I said.

"Mother? I thought it was your sister!" he said. And it wasn't one of those fake compliments, but he was genuinely surprised, and went on to comment how young and healthy mum looked. Mum was overjoyed, and for a few moments I could see she felt confident about herself and her condition. This was not the first time, as on the train up to here, two elderly ladies (both in their eighties, and still very much fit and healthy) also complimented her on her looks and youthful complexion. It really made her day, as later in the afternoon, she was still aglow from the compliment when she remembered what had happened earlier.

"Well, isn't that great, you taking your mum traveling," the guide said, "That's very special, and you're a special son for doing that." I blushed, and simply said "I try", as he went on to congratulate mum for having  a son like me. Just a few moments earlier, I received a message from a friend who, upon seeing pictures of mum and I paddling on the lake and traveling together, said he was very touched by what I am willing to do for my mother.

I didn't feel proud or anything like that by what my friend wrote or what the man said. Really, I just try, and if given the chance, I would try and try again to make mum feel happy and confident about her own well-being. I know myself I am at times too impatient, defensive and perhaps even verging on rude towards her, and I feel guilty afterwards for feeling or being that way, but for the most of it, I do try to make mum happy, just as I try to make people in my life happy however way I think I can.

With this long anticipated trip through the Rockies coming to an end, I feel mum can really look back and smile at the last six, seven days. If not by the entire experience, than perhaps by the memory of what that kind tour guide said to her to make her feel so special and youthful. When we said goodbye later in the day, he told her "Keep it up...!"

And I really she does keep it up, and continue to live young and happily, and live without fears or worry.

To write soon...

I've not had much time to really sit down and write about my impressions of the surrounding nature. Partly because everyday is filled with different activities, hiking, but also touring around places mum and I have been staying at. Partly also because I'm almost constantly by mum's side to make sure she is alright, as she has some difficulty communicating here, and also as she is still experiencing health problems from occasionally.

I hope write something about this trip in the Canadian Rockies someday, in something poetic and beautiful to really do justice to the magnificent experiences and sights that nature has offered me on this trip...

Believe me, these six, seven days have really touched me a lot, and made me fall in love with this country and its people even more...

Paddling on Lake Louise

Once, I imagined mum and I, drifting on a clear, blue lake at the will of the currents and the winds. I imagined that we would be surrounded by lofty mountain, white clouds and a clear blue sky. I imagined mum smiling, she does not say anything, but I can see that she is quiet with content.

That imagination of my mind became reality today when together we boarded a canoe and paddled on Lake Louise. It was just as I imagined it, but real. It was just as I imagined it, but more breathtaking, more memorable.

Early morning, just after breakfast, we donned on life vests and paddled away. Left, right, left, right, slowly our canoe channeled a course, parted the clear, blue glacial water of the lake. All around us, the mountains stood tall, but not intimidating. They were gentle in the rays of the rising sun. They appeared soft with occasional strings of clouds that adorned the tops of their necks like fluffy white scarves.

I could not stop smiling, and though mum was at the front of the canoe with her back against me, I imagined she was smiling too. She too paddled with me, pushing the oar in the water with heavy strokes in synch with me sitting at the back. In between us, two soft animal friends I had brought with me on the trip, and their faces too were plastered with smiles (even though occasionally I drenched them with the lake water whenever I had to switch sides paddling…)

“I think this will be one of the most memorable experiences of my life,” I said. The tranquility, the shared moments, the beauty all around us. No amount of money can buy this memory, nothing can close compare to the joy I felt of giving my mum the simple joy of paddling on a calm little lake in the middle of the Rockies, in my new adopted home of Canada. The pine trees bowed in awe, the half moon looked down at us as if with a small smile. The birds sang gloriously, and the waves gently, gently caressed the sides of our little canoe.

“I guess this is like life,” mum said, “Sometimes you have to paddle hard to get somewhere, but you can never know where exactly.” She was happy, but also nostalgic in that one hour we shared on the canoe. She used to paddle a lot before, when she was young, when a host of admirers chased after her. But she chose dad, she got a stable job in the direst of times (just after the 1970s oil crisis), and the rest is history. She raised a family, she had me, and who could have imagined twenty odd years later we would be here paddling in a foreign land as beautiful and welcoming as this?

Lake Louise

 Sitting on a rock on the shores of Lake Louise, such beauty fills my heart. Gone, if only temporarily, are
the disturbing thoughts, fears and worries. All that is left is this moment, this stillness watching the majestic mountain stand before me, awe me with the ever changing colours of it's multiple layers of rock, stun me to silence with the serenity and magnificence of it's lofty peaks and jagged cliff edges.

Before me, stretched like a green mirror is the silent lake, quietly portraying the surroundings in a watery, waving reflection. I could sit here all day, just listen to the songs of birds, just watch and admire the countless spruce trees all crowded on the face of the mountain like skyscrapers in a  crowded metropolis. I could sit here all day, all night, and imagine the world as it is, as it was eons ago, imagine how little things have changed, or imagine how many times the sun has risen and fallen over the mountains. Before me, unspoiled nature, raw, welcoming, soothing like the warmth of a loved one's hands...

Mum left to retire for the night, and for a while we just sat quietly and admired it all in silence. This is a moment I've longed to give her. Peace, calm, and distance from the negative memories of her ailing health and of hospital wards. This silence, this emptiness of the mind, this utter beauty before our eyes that cannot be described, only experienced.

The setting sun cast a stream of golden light on the rocky face of the mountain patched with white unmelted snow. "All thanks to dad..." mum said quietly. I saw her wipe the corner of her eye.

All thanks to dad, who could not be here with us to enjoy this scenery, this tranquility.

But perhaps from up above, in the wavering, watery reflection of the blue, green lake dad could see us looking back at him.

The river flowing by

I woke up early, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sunrise over the snowy peaks. But the sun, the lake, the birds and the tranquility of Mother Nature woke up earlier than I did, or could ever do.

Sitting on a boulder by the river, I absorb the sounds, the feel the light drizzle smoothing and calming on my skin. Clouds hide majestic faces of towering peaks, dense pines adorn the arched backs of rolling hills. The song of birds and cricket-like call of unseen chipmunks awaken my senses. 

I sit here, put in the morning chill, all alone, yet surrounded and blessed by what nature has to offer without even trying. The river flows rapidly by, the sounds and the water have no feelings, have no remorse or guilt over where they have come from. Most of all, the river has no fears where it is headed. It may have a name, but what use is a name, what does it mean to have a purpose, for the trees and creatures that it nurtures and touches? The river just flows, carrying with it, bits and pieces from lakes, ponds and streams further up, meandering over time and the land downwards towards the ocean. 

It flows on by, and momentarily, my thoughts and worries flow and float away with it.

Just friends?

My friend just called, sounding very concerned and worried about the wellbeing of mum and me. So useless, he felt, so wanting to say something or so something to help, but he cannot.

I appreciate his concern, as I've done over the past two three years since he's entered my life. But after we became a couple, after we split up, I feel it's too awkward for him to care so much, to become so worried and feel useless when I'm down or upset by something. 

Perhaps it's just me, unable to understand fully the fine lines and conventions of what it means to be friends, and to be lovers. More to the point, perhaps i'm naive as to how to denarcate the boundaries after breaking up and going back to just friends. The problem lies with me, i know, for he is just doing what he has always done- and that's to care for me, to care about me.

But I just find it so terribly awkward to accept this kind of care and concern from him, especially after we have split up. How can you move on and still care or even love another when you are still so attached to someone in the past? How can anyone want out of a relationship when you still are so willing to play that role of the shoulder to cry on, the arms to hug, the ear to listen to? How do you differbtiate that or separate that from the feelings if love and intimacy that once burned so passionately, and for whatever reason, must die down?
 
I cannot comprehend it, and perhaps hurtfully I said outright to him "Who am I for you to be so concerned about?"

"that's what friends are for," he said at one point. But if that's what we all are, then there has to be distance, there has to be a point where you cannot care so much and cannot obsess so much about the other person's wellbeing that you constantly read up on what is happening on his blog.

I feel privileged to be so cared for, and to be so pampered with concern for my wellbeing.  I long for such care and such concern. I long to be hugged and comforted, but I cannot accept it from him, for my own sake, and for his own sake, especially when we are no longer in that kind of an intimate and loving relationship.