First day back

Mum was still very sickly this morning, but by late afternoon she got gradually better. Her neurosurgeon came to see her twice today, once in the morning to arrange for a CT scan, and later in the afternoon to tell her the wound from the surgery she had two months back is healing well. As for the cause of her vomiting, the neurosurgeon suspects that it's due to the steroids she has been taking in preparation for and straight after her cyberknife treatment. The steroids are supposed to protect against nerve tissue damage when the patient is radiated with gamma rays, but too much steroids in a short period of time may cause the stomach and digestive system to become irritated or even damaged. That may be the reason why mum has been throwing up profusely over the past week or so. May be... The neurosurgeon would like keep mum in hospital for a few more days to observe her condition. And an endoscopy is planned for the coming days to double check there is nothing seriously affecting the stomach.

It's a relief to see mum's condition stabilise, for last night, especially late at night, and this morning, there were moments I thought that her body would become so weak it would go into a seizure. There were such dark shadows around her eyes, and her speech was slurred. Going to the washroom took great effort, because she wobbled when she walked, and swayed when she stood. There were moments when I thought, pessimistically, that perhaps this is the way it will gradually end, and I was even checking flight times and wondering whether to tell my brother to return home. But we're not there yet. We're not there. Yet.

After a twenty-two hour shift, I went back home to take a nap and shower. Again, it felt like those first few days, of poor and disturbed sleep next to mum on the foldable chair-bed, and of having to be constantly awake and aware of mum's condition and whereabouts just in case she should faint, or worse. I was drained when I got home and collapsed into bed, mum's bed. And it was the first time I slept in a bed for over a month. It was beautiful, my nap.

As my sister-in-law and nephew came back to visit and stay with us, I returned to hospital with a surprise for mum. "Your grandson kept on saying she wanted to see you!" I told her. Of course, he's just six months old and can only drool and make babbling sounds, but mum found that funny. In the courtyard of the hospital, mum, my sister-in-law and nephew sat and chatted. I sat and watched, witnessed and committed to memory the beautiful smile on mum's face as she played with and admired her beautiful grandchild, the source of her hopes and untold joys. I watched and was touched by the interplay between mother, child and grandmother, and smiled at the way they commented how cute the baby has grown, how active and curious he has become. All the while, my nephew looked around him with big, wondrous eyes, unaware that his birth, his presence, his laughter, the grip of his tiny little fingers have been like a precious medicine to ward off the debilitating effects of cancer.

Mum lay in bed just now, her eyes so weak and tired and hard to keep open, but still she said something very touching. "The way you take care of me, I have earned a few more years. I can see my grandson grow up, I want to see you settle down..." There was hope in her voice, and that was perhaps the most reassuring sign in over a month, since her health began going downhill just after the lunar new year period. There is hope yet, because this lady, my dear, brave mother is still fighting. My dear, brave mother still wants to live a few more years.That is her hope, her dream. Whether life will give her the time and the chance to realise her dream is not up to us...

"I hope those few more years are happy ones," I said to her as I patted her back to soften her sore muscles and ease her into sleep.