No more, no more...

Tears were rolling in her eyes, she said as she recalled that day when she opened my thesis and read my dedication. It is things like that she lives for, she said... Touching moments in life, not hospital treatments and doctor's appointments.

I bit the inside of my lower lip, so hard I could taste my own blood. Biting the insides of my lips is something I have learned can control the tears. Strange, because it hurts so much, but the physical pain perhaps overpowers the mental pain...

I hesitated to say it, but it has been on my mind a long time. I hesitate because I wonder... is it for her own good that I am saying this, or for my own selfish interests? Is it because I don't want to be (t)here to take care of mum, as I have done on and off for the past three years or so, or is it really because I have her best interests at heart?


"Stop the treatments", I suggested. Stop them completely.

No more chemotherapies...
No more radiotherapies...
No more cancer indices...
No more scans and tests and injections...
No more hospital visits, no more sitting in the crowded corridors and waiting, and waiting...

No more, no more...

I know I have alluded to my message before, so it was not a shocker. The reality is this: the cancer is spreading, unstoppably. How fast, how slow, I am not sure. What is certain is if you treat one place, another problem area pops up. For now, the the greatest source of her pain, the tumour compressing on the spine, has been removed. And in a few days she is due for treatment to (hopefully) eradicate any remaining traces of the cancer on the spine.

And then what? Her main physician referred to the fact that she may need to undergo more chemotherapy after the upcoming radiotherapy to contain her illness. Yes, contain, because there is no cure once cancer metastasises, which it already has. And sometime ago, he told mum that there are no drugs that are effective any more, because she's used them all. Once you have used one, the cancer cells become resistant. The chemo just kills the healthy cells and has very little effect on the ones you want to kill. Xeloda, Folfox, Folfiri, Erbitux... what else is there out there? And if the treatments are not working, why keep on doing it?  How much more money must we burn through to continue with treatment after treatment? It's not about the money... it's about the dignity and quality of life.

How painful is it to watch a dear one suffer? How painful is it to watch your loved one bend over the toilet bowl and choke on her own vomit? How painful is it to have to quickly sweep away the falling strands of hair so that the one you care about more than life itself does not have to be reminded of her hair loss...? Multiply my feelings tenfold, hundredfold, and that pain would never ever equate the pain, fears and anxieties mum feels undergoing treatment after treatment, time after time. Is it any wonder why mum would like to "end it all"? Is it any wonder mum is becoming dazed and numb and looks so very, very tired...?

So stop it all.

Stop it all and let fate take its course?

Stop it all, and let the demonic cells grow and multiply, feed and fester inside her body until one day her body is but a rotten, cancerous corpse...?

After signing the agreement to proceed with cyberknife, with what I suggested to mum, why do I again feel like mum's life is placed in my hands...? Do I hold the warrant to her life (and death)? Is it because I really care, or I am too tired of caring any more and want this to quickly end?

How heavy, how very, very heavy that burden, that responsibility is... how heavy it is to tell your own mother to give up on treatment while she is ahead, knowing fully well what the outcome of that decision might be... And where was brother while we are discussing such a life changing matter, discussing the future life of our dear mother? Playing mahjong with his new family elsewhere in the country. Is she not also my brother's mother...?

Mum understood what I was saying, and perhaps why I was saying it. It's soon her sixtieth birthday... does she want to spend the last few years, months, or however long she has still, of her life going in and out of the hospital? She's lived that life for the last  four years, and I have lived it, from afar and from close by, with her. Sixty years of life she's almost had, and would it not be a shame if it were all overshadowed by the pain and misery of the confinement of the hospital walls in that final leg of her journey in this universe? Dad experienced it, my uncle, who is perhaps nearing the end of his life, is experiencing it... so many people I have seen in the past few years just seem to rot away in hospitals. And how horrible that is... how undignified, and what a crude and colourless way to leave this world that is!

"Don't you want to see more of the world? See the flowers blossom in Spring in Europe again?" I was reminded of a story she once shared with me about this elderly couple, both of who got cancer. The husband (or was it the wife?) decided to go travel, see and explore the world and seize his days, while the wife (or husband) decided to stay home. The latter died soon after, while the other traveled the world and experienced life in a  totally new light... Eventually, with absolute certainty, we will all die. But we may be able to influence the way we die, or at the very least the final days and moments before we die. Is this naive make-belief or bravely and confidently facing death?

I know mum was moved by my words, and I know deep down, she agrees with me, for she has on so many occasions expressed to me her disdain for hospitals and building fatigue of having to go through so many treatments, take so many different pills-- all of which are stacked up on her shelf like little mounds. But can she really just "go"? Can she really "live and let live", as they say? In this case, it really is about living, and letting life live itself for however much longer, in whatever way it carries you...

Of course, ultimately it is mum's decision. But one that will have a bearing on my life and my future. What if she follows my advice and urgings and suffers a horrible, painful end? Will I be able to live the rest of my life knowing I influenced the person dearest to my heart, to my life, to forgo the chance at prolonging her life by forgoing medical treatment...? Will I be haunted by nightmares, more than ever before, and tormented by a guilty conscience if influenced by what I said mum stops everything?

Ask me in a month's time, and perhaps this issue may be moot.

Ask me in a year's time, and perhaps these questions will have been answered.