Hope

Even in hopelessness there is hope.
It may not be hope of recovery, it may not be hope of prolonging life and taking away inevitable pain and suffering. But there can be hope of a beautiful, comfortable, dignified process to rounding up the wonderful journey of life.

I've been wanting to take mum to the Hope Cancer Foundation since I last went there over a month ago, just after my birthday. I wanted to share with mum my new found source of hope and inspiration, wanted to show her that there are many out there like her, and that she need not fear and need not be alone. But but incessant vomiting and fatigue prevented us from going there together.

I went back again today. Mum thought I was going home to rest, but I needed another opinion, especially in light of the setback of the NJ tube insertion, and the startling option of final resort with the major bypass surgery.

I saw a volunteer, a colon cancer survivor who was rescued from the brink if death, a lovely lady around mum's age with two children studying in the UK. We spoke for almost an hour and a half, talking about mum's condition, and about me.

She was more interested in me, how I am coping with all this, how I am releasing my feelings, if at all. I say I write, I write down everything in the first person, write down all my fears, joys, feelings, dreams, thoughts and emotions and experiences as I am doing now. It is my way of letting pent up emotions vent, my way of communicating with the world and "asking" for help. Because I know I cannot cope without an outlet, I know I cannot cope by bottling everything deep inside, for one day, in one way or another, a lot of it will erupt and I will be so torn and traumatised-- perhaps in the way my childhood experiences suddenly came to haunt me a decade or so later.

Mum will pass, it is a matter of time, a matter of manner. I would like her to leave this world feeling like she's really lived, like she's been touched and loved, like she has had a blessed life, despite certain hardships growing up and in this final stage of her life. Nobody can know how much longer she has, but we can try and try to much that last, or at least feel like it is lasting. I want to make her comfortable, make her close her eyes and be able to drift away in bliss and feel like "My duty is done here..."

I have to be aware, not everything will be according to plan. Who would have known a year ago she would have a spinal surgery? Who would have known a month ago she would deafened to this poor state of health on the brink of death? I can try to plan things, but I must also allow the possibility for life to take its natural course.

"Don't feel it's your responsibility for her to get better. Some people completely collapse after losing a loved one, others hate themselves or even get angry at the loved one for dying. Be aware of that..."

I have thought of that possibility, hence I am already seeking help, I am already making plans for the "hereafter". I need to live, I need to love, I need to still love life after death. For I have seen and heard about people around me descend into a depth of depression and terrible, inconsolable sadness, and I must be ever so wary. I must be vigilant.

I must be able to find life again, find a way to keep motivated, keep interested, keep me busy, so that that day when a fundamental aspect of my life, my rock and my core, disappears, I have a net to break my fall.

Hence various "projects" I've been thinking and planning in my head, all part of "Operation New Beginning". I want to bike around the island to prove that I can fulfil a lifetime dream, that I can challenge myself and live up to a personal promise. I want to go to India and/or Tibet (if allowed...) and follow do a Buddhist pilgrimage. I want to return to Lake Louise, where mum and I spent a wonderful hour paddling on the lake. I want to attend my graduation, alone if I must, for I want mum to see me at a proud moment and know that I can do what I set out to achieve. I want to qualify for the bar, work in a field of law I am passionate about (it's crossed my mind, all my accumulated experiences dealing with health care and hospital, why not loom into the field of Medical law?). I want to be with someone who loves me dearly, unconditionally, and whom I love and trust fully. I want to be there for my cat, I want to one day have children of my own! I have dreams, even though mum may not be able to see me realise all my dreams.

I may be calm now, I may be so cool and may still be able to make myself smile when I look at myself smile in the mirror. But that may all disappear, that smile may quickly, unexpected turn to a sad, howling face laden with tears and regret.

I may still be able to calmly narrate the story to people, and even comfort people, but who will comfort me? I must let someone into my life, someone I trust, someone I have for a long time confided in, even if I don't want to.

I must already prepare to accept, to let go, and eventually to heal. It is never too early to prepare for death, for the next moment may already be too late.