She was sitting in her bed, ready to retire it seemed. It was barely nine at night. I climbed into mum's bed to join her, to have our nightly 'goodnight' routine of a bit of talking. I would lie next to her, roll around a little like a little boy. It's my way of saying to her "I'm still your little boy!" And occasionally, she would reach over to stroke my head. I know, it sounds silly, especially being twenty-eight and a grown adult already...
We got talking, and mum began suddenly saying that perhaps she wants to change house. I was surprised, for it was the first time she mentioned it after the seemingly premature attempt to look for an apartment for her in the central part of the country earlier last month. She somehow came to the conclusion that perhaps it is good for her to leave this house, even though she moved in only around two years ago. It's too small, she says, and the ceilings are too low, making it feel very confined and after a long while oppressive. I was of course glad she came to this conclusion herself, and reassured her if that is her wish, I would do everything I can to help her find a place and help her move. There is nothing more I would like than to make sure she is settled and in a place where she feels comfortable and able to begin a new life, away from the old one.
That got us talking about her life, and her future treatment. I again talked about the cancer welfare foundation I recently paid a visit to and where I spoke to a welfare worker about "alternatives" to just treatment. I have been meaning to take mum there, but she has not shown any interest, and always says she's too "tired". In a way, I think she is afraid to reach out, afraid to go to a place where there are others like her... afraid to step out, which may be understandable as she has been struggling through this on her own, more or less, for the past six years now. But as I have repeatedly told her, I cannot be the sole source of her outlet... I cannot be the only support she has and the only person she confides in, for I cannot handle it alone. We need help, we need help and support from people who can fully empathise with her condition, who can really know what it feels like to be a cancer warrior.
From that conversation, we got onto the topic of changing her main physician, an oncologist. Since her recent surgery, and even before that, he has been quite curt and sometimes even dismissive of my mum whenever she goes to see him. We all think (and I can say almost for certain we know...) it's because he's jealous and bitter that since the discovery of the tumour in her spine, mum has been seeing another doctor, who is a specialist in neurosurgery. His jealousy is evidenced by the fact that last time he outrightly, without even knowing details of her surgery, told mum that her voice won't get better because they damaged her vocal chords during surgery. But her voice is getting better, her voice is in fact almost back to its old self again (though still frail, but that is more due to the fact she has been eating very little of late...). It was this neurosurgeon who mum has come to trust more than her own physician, for he gives her much confidence, and talks to her very frankly about her condition. It was under his advice, and with his oversight, that her spinal surgery was beautifully and successfully performed.
So for over a year, mum has been mulling about changing doctors. But she has not yet done it, because she struggles to find ways to change doctors without feeling "awkward" or hurting the main physician's feelings. What I fail to understand is why mum feels any obligation toward staying with the guy when he has obviously been dismissive of her, and even curt toward her? How does that even make a patient feel confident about getting better or have any trust in the doctor? We found a suitable replacement, but mum has been dragging her feet and hesitating about going to see the possible new oncologist for a second opinion. Mainly because the possible new oncologist is in the same hospital, so he and the old one are colleagues.
I got upset, because we have already been through this over and over again. The old oncologist won't feel a difference whether she is his patient or not. What obligation is there toward him, even having been with him for five, six years, when he is cold and behaving unprofessionally towards the patient? I am so very close to filing a formal complaint against him with the board professional doctors!
I admit, I raised my voice and got frustrated at mum. I pressed her for a reason why she cannot change doctors, but she just closed her eyes, looked away and said "I have my considerations..." I admit, I pressed her for the reasons again, and perhaps that provoked her to lash out "OK! You decide everything! I'm already so tired, and this is making me more tired!" Mum turned away and covered herself with her thick blanket. The last glimpse of her face was one frowning, full of disappointment, anger, remorse. The worst way to send someone to sleep...
I was just trying to help, trying to move beyond an impasse and hopefully get a second and new opinion on her condition and course of treatment... I know mum would never ever do it if it weren't for me pushing for it and asking about possible oncologists we could consult. She has been already waiting and seeing the same oncologist for over a year, even though she already feels uncomfortable going to see him. I really was trying to help, not provoke a crisis and cause mum so much anger and grief...
I was myself filled with such sadness, such a feeling of being misunderstood, such remorse, such deep, deep guilt. Tears threatened to burst out there and then...
I rushed to the kitchen to pick up the heat packs I warmed up for her earlier, and put them on the bed next to mum. In my eyes, large tears were already rolling and threatening to fall. I did not dare to look at mum, walked away and turned off the lights to her bedroom.
For the first time since I arrived home over two months ago, I cried. I really, really cried...
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