Day eight

05012012
7.37

Dream... Why am I so tormented by dreams and thoughts? I am already so physically exhausted, and yet when I lie down to sleep, dreams plague my mind...

A myriad of images and random people in my life... With my brother on a bus heading back to Taipei from somewhere, the landscape outside seemed barren an deserted... With my ex and two other friend's (faceless, not recognisable...) and checking into a youth hostel. The mood was so tense, and I was made to feel like I'd done something terribly wrong... I was made to feel so guilty, even though it was (whatever it was) not my fault...

I wake up, and it is already morning. Half past seven, the hospital ward is waking up, people are moving about in the corridor, the cleaner is here to pick up rubbish... I open my eyes, realise it was a a dream, and take a few moments to allow the place where I am to sink in...

I am in hospital still, sleeping next to mum on a tiny bed/chair, and my back is aching, my head is hurting. I lift my her, and see mum smile at me, softly tell me: "Thank you for being here for me..."

Those words fill me with warmth, with hope, with gratitude that my dear, brave mother is here to fight and live for another moment, another day.

And how fortunate I am, despite the aches, the discomfort and at times irritation of having to take care of not only her wellbeing and health but also care for my own health and wellbeing, I am with her, and she is with me still...

18.37
Day two of mum rehabilitation. There is a class in the morning, aimed at training the strength of her arms and legs and basic coordination. In the afternoon, from two thirty till around three thirty, four o'clock, there are exercises to help her stabilise her walking, train her leg muscles and general endurance.

It is not easy, as mum is still a bit wobbly and unstable when she walks. She sighed and told me today how quickly from one day to the next she could lose so much of her ability to walk. But I encouraged her, at other people's expense, yes, and told her that her condition is much better than others... Those who are completely wheelchair-bound, those who have lost almost all mobility of their legs and arms and hands... Those who must endure so much pain just trying to sit up straight, let alone stand or walk...

One exercise involves mum using chopsticks to pick up marbles and place them from one bowl to another. Another exercise involves mum using her foot to shift beads from one side of what looks like a child's for learning how to count.

The physiotherapists who instruct mum are amazed by her progress and ability to do many of the exercises with speed and accuracy. I can see mum struggles and strives hard, I can see it from the beads of sweat on her forehead, from the way she pants and gets out of breath. Mum is really trying, trying very hard to walk and stand steady again. As my aunt told me, she is strong, she is doing it so that we, the children, can see her progress and recover quickly and soon feel that it is alright to leave her and go do what we have to do. My aunt tells me, deep down mum feels responsible and guilty to have to become dependent on me, and she would like to quickly recover so I can go back to my life. And I suspect, mum is striving hard, pushing herself so that when she sees her grandson for the first time, can garner strength to hold him, rock him in her arms...

It is amazing what mum can do, what mum can set herself to do within such a short period of time... Her courage, her strength, her determination to get better, to not be beaten is admirable. And I am so proud, so very touched that she is my mother, and that I am her son...