Long day

I walked home from the hospital in the rain. My heart was heavy, for it was such a long, long day...

It started with a trip, long trip, to a hospital in southern Taipei, where we were recommended a surgeon specialised in the latest radiotherapy treatment for cancer. We took the taxi, to cut the traveling time, even so it took over half an hour to cross the entire city, and the traffic was very smooth. It was the first time since my return that I entered downtown Taipei...

On the way we passed the crematorium, where dad was cremated almost four years ago. I did not say anything, but from the look of mum's face, I could see she was thinking probably the same as I did. I touched her arm to comfort her.

We didn't have to wait at te hospital, and were called in. The neurosurgeon, in his forties or so, sporting a little beard around the chin, was extremely receptive and kind. He took a look at the latest scans and shared with us his opinion, and recommended the treatment we had heard about: the cyberknife.

It could be done within two, three days, for an hour or so a day. And it could all be done next week, after mum conducts further and more details scans to pinpoint the exact location(s?) where the cancer has spread to. There is one confirmed area, T2, just behind the throat and windpipe. But another suspected region is just a bit lower, just behind the small intestines. Both regions are "blind spots" that traditional surgery or radiotherapy cannot effectively reach. But the cyberknife can be extremely precise and target a specific area. There is around five percent of risk of damage to the throat and/or intestines, but generally the results have been very promising.

Mum and I left the hospital, buoyed by the hope of another new treatment that may be able to rid of her cancer, at least around the spine area. We headed back and for the first time I accompanied her to vote.

I could not go inside the polling station, as I have no papers and am not eligible to vote. So I watched from behind a glass window how mum limped on her cane toward the booth and afterwards put three pieces of paper in three separate ballot boxes, one for the president and vice president, one for the legislature, one for political party.

It was a nerve wracking four hours since the opening of the polls at four in the afternoon. The difference was so close in the beginning, and then by five or so, the gap began to widen. The incumbent, pro-China party began to lead. Last I saw, the Nationalist Party of China (KMT) was leading by over six hundred thousand votes, or by over seven percent.

Again, the country is divided... A very blue/pro-China/pro-Business north and a very green/pro-Taiwan south. They say the big businesses leaders who overwhelmingly supported the KMT swung the votes. Together with the tacit support of the Chinese government, they chartered flights to transport employees back to Taiwan to vote. Vote for the pro-China, pro-unification, pro-big business party. Some report the Chinese government has pressured big businesses which have a lot of investment and interest in China to return a "favourable" result, or else. And it appears to have worked...

The opposition pro-Taiwan party of Tsai Ing-Wen still garnered some 46% of the votes. With the donations of the "common people", calls for justice and equality, lessening of the income gap, she fought an honourable campaign, and attracted the support of noted scholars and democracy activists. But that is not enough. Not enough to overwhelm the power and wealth of big business and entrenched influence of the KMT....

---

The KMT really did win, with 52% of the votes. There have been no irregularities, no major incidences of riots or disorder.

The people have spoke, And what was said is to my disappointment, for the majority, though not by much, seem to want peaceful and closer ties with China. Even so, there are still almost fifty precent of the population who do not want that, and who voted for the opposition, who will for the next four years still be he opposition.

I fear that the KMT has now power in the president and also a majority in the legislature , which basically allows them power to do whatever they want...

The entire democratic process, from campaigning to the elections themselves have been rather fair and free. And relative calm reigns over the island as people go back to their daily lives after all this furore and noise. It really does show how mature democracy and the people's believe in the democratic process has become, and how the minority accepts the majority opinion, even to their great dismay and fears...

I can only hope that, as the KMT promises, it will do what is best for the interests of this nation and its people. I can only hope that Taiwan's sovereignty and dignity will be safeguarded, and that our freedoms will continue to thrive and can continue to be enjoyed...

scan results

Home alone tonight, as my brother and his family went to my sister-in-law's place. I got a copy of mum's scans today, one that I need to give to a new doctor tomorrow morning. Out of curiosity, I popped the CD-ROM into my computer...

I'm no doctor, but I can see clearly the dark bits and suspect areas. I'm no doctor, but I can feel pain and upset rising with these images before my eyes... Dark, dark bits contrasting with the white image of mum's spine, throat and skull....

The cancer is spreading. Spreading.... I shudder at the thought. I tremble at the sight..

Tomorrow, another hospital, another appointment, another doctor, another treatment....

suicide

What do you say to someone who says she's thought about committing suicide...?

What...?

What...?

What if that someone is your own bed-ridden mother...?

turn for the worse

Bloatedness in her abdomen, sharp pains in her shoulder blades. Two weeks after the surgery, when things appeared to be normal, things took a turn...

It is painful to see mum in so much pain, especially as she has tried so hard to recover, to get better...

It is so hard to just turn away and go...

Jetlag?

11012012
02.13

I closed my eyes and rested temporarily on my feet as the elevator took us up to the sixth floor.

Brother's voice woke me and took me back to reality. "Are you tired?"

"I'm alight..." But I was tired. The back of my head is aching, and I felt dizzy, faint. Another twelve hour shift at the hospital, almost home...

"Are you over the jetlag? Did you have time to get over the jetlag?" he asked.

"I went straight to the hospital," I said. After landing some thirteen days ago, I rushed straight there, and put my suitcase and bags next to mum's hospital bed, where they remained for the next eighteen hours before I has the chance to take everything home. I would return to the hospital three, four hours later. For the coming ten days or so, I would stay in the hospital for up to sixteen hours, on some days even for the entire day (meaning twenty four hours...)

Did I have  time to get over the jet lag? I'm not sure. Time is what I did not have for myself over the past two weeks or so. I just slept, exhausted and collapsed every night when it is  time to sleep...

Did i have to to get over the jet lag? What a question... Perhaps the answer is why am I now wide awake at two thirty in the morning?

Floor 21

Floor 21

There is a section of TVG [Taipei Veterans General] that I do yet not dare enter. I have come close to it, I have seen signs pointing to it, but I am still afraid of venturing into it, because, despite the many tests and trials I have already experienced, I do not believe I am ready yet. 

I am referring to a top secret facility on the upper most floor of the main research complex named “The Hall of Great Virtue”. Legend has it, only those bravest and most daring and heroic members of monkeykind who are nearing the end of their final mission are allowed to enter that secret facility. To be allowed in is a great honour, for the achievements and successes of the said monkey are celebrated and remembered by friends and family with the assistance of specially trained scientists and technicians. After you enter, you can retire in complete peace and comfort.

The name “Hall of Great Virtue” comes from an excerpt of the Book of Changes which reads: “Life is a special kindness bestowed by the Universe”. Indeed, in this vast Universe, with so much yet unexplored, with so little we claim to know, and with so much we do not yet know, the fact that I am here, living and breathing at this very moment, is nothing short of a miracle. What Creature, what Being, what great Force has been so very kind to breathe me into being? Is it purely the coincidental union of subatomic particles and molecules? If so, what processes drive our thoughts, movements and our will? There are also temporal paroxes that may even bewilder Einstein. How have events in our past shaped our present, and how does the present (or even the past perhaps…) go on to shape the future?  And there is one puzzle, which even the greatest philosophers and most learned scientists cannot even begin to address, let alone solve: What is the objective and mission of our lives? Perhaps answers to these questions will be found at the end of a monkey’s final, final mission.

What happens behind the air-lock doors that lead to the Hall of Great Virtue is a total mystery.  Some say there are special chambers adorned with bright, bright lights. Others speak of a dark void, much like a Black Hole which sucks you in, and from where there is no return. Some report hearing loud laughter and songs of joy. Other have heard what sound like prayers or perhaps even sobbing. I do hope that one day I will be ready, and can enter such a facility with my held up high, and with my heart at ease. One day, when I am given my final mission, I do hope I can look back and use all that I have learned and experienced to solve the most daunting task in the Universe.

For now, I can only stand and watch from afar those who are admitted into the Great Hall of Virtue with awe and inspiration. For every being is precious, every mission is invaluable, and everything comes together to make up this great big Universe whole and complete.

Another scan, another test

10012012
10.24

Another scan, another test. Today a whole body bone scan to identify where around mum's body there are traces of the cancer.

 It's a scan that uses a radioactive isotope that must be injected around four hours before the actual scan into the patient's body. The radioactive trace element acts as an indicator, and will highlight the precise areas where there are "problems"...  It's a scan that mum has done before, and one which I had accompanied her to do once before.

Another scan, another test. At which point does it stop becoming relevant? At which point do you become numb to it all?

 I sat there and waited for mum to complete her scan, waited as her body slowly slid into the machine massive and the sensors took detailed pictures of her bone structure. I sat there and remembered the first time I was with her, sitting in that same corridor waiting for her to come out I was so  very afraid, so very anxious.

 But today I was just numb... Perhaps spending almost two weeks non-stop at the hospital has that effect on you. You become numb... Do you cease to care, cease to be worried like you used to...? Do you Cease to be as anxious as you used to, even when the technician inserts a painful and thin needle into mum's arm and injects her with a radioactive and toxic (though to limit tolerable for the human body...) chemical?

I just sat there and waited for mum to come out. And when she did, I wheeled her back to ward at the nerve regeneration centre. As if it were the most normal thing... As if being in the hospital, walking from ward to ward, as if seeing all these nurses, patients and doctors were the most normal thing, something that would  no longer make you raise an eyebrow or make you flinch...

Another scan, another test...

eldery man

"He has no relatives, no carer," the radiological technician said, "He's all alone by himself."

I looked at the elderly man lying there on the stretcher which slowly retreated from deep inside the body imaging scanner. He had all sorts of tubes attached to his body, including a catheter tube. I could not see his face, only part of the dark blue hospital gown that I recognised from when dad wore it around four years ago.

Poor man, I thought... All alone by himself undergoing such an exhausting and emotionally daunting scan. How he must feel deep inside. What is his story, i wondered. Why is he all alone here in the hospital when, as far as I can tell, he is in poor health and cannot move by himself? Perhaps one day that could be me lying there, all alone, all by myself...

The technician called a few idle nurses and carers who were standing in the corridor to help him move the elderly man from the body scanner to his hospital bed. I watched as they slowly wheeled him away.

Silently, I wished him well... Silently, I hoped he has family and friends who will soon come and take his loneliness away...

Crying...

Mum lay on her bed, curled up in a fetal position and started to weep...
How painful that was to witness... how very, very painful... Why is it that I have not cried, really cried, and yet people around me are crying...?

"Please don't cry..." I pleaded, but in vain. I had to swallow so hard to stop myself from weeping. She was hurting, ridden with guilt and regret. I'm too good to her, she says. She is taking too much of my time, and she feels so very guilty that I have had to put everything on hold again just to rush home to be with her, to take care of her.


But I tell her again and again, I would do nothing else. I would have it no other way... My studies can wait, my law exams can be postponed, my career can be delayed, my hope of pursuing happiness and meeting someone special I can settle down with can all be set aside. Right now, what is important is to see to it that mum recovers and is well enough to be on her own...

And yet she feels so ashamed... Is it me staying with her day and night to keep her company and watch over her safety? Is it me bringing her food and fresh fruits and making sure she eats well? Is it the massages I give her to make sure she is not sore from lying down too long? Or is it how I have been holding her arm as she slowly, slowly learns to walk steady again? She tells me she feels so terribly guilty that much of the burden has fallen on my shoulders. Even though my brother is also home, he has a wife and child, and can spare only an hour or three a day to be with her, whereas I am there almost constantly day in, day out...

I do it for her because she is my mother...  And I know I would do it for anyone who is so dear to my heart, who is so dear to my life, out of love, unconditional love, and care... How much can you love someone that you are willing to give yourself fully and not ask for anything in return...? How much can you care about someone and that you would do anything in the hope the person will get better one day? Not enough... Nothing is ever enough if you love someone, care about someone so very, very deeply...

I can only imagine why she is crying... She has always been such a strong and independent woman, who worked, who raised two children, who ran the household and took care of a husband and a family... and now, struck down by illness, unable to stand for long, unable to walk far, bed-bound for much of the day, tired after doing simple chores, and dependent on others to provide her with support and bring her food...

How that must affect a person's spirit, how that much injure someone's pride... my dear, brave mother's pride...

But I tell her she is getting better. Her walk is more steady now. Even today, her rehabilitation teacher said he was impressed how he could power walk for almost ten minutes without tripping or stumbling. And she can cycle 6.7km within twenty minutes, up from only around 4km just last week. That is progress, despite the sweating, despite the hardwork, the determination, there is visible progress.

Should I stop being so caring? Should I stop bringing her food and just let her order take out meals? Should I just stay away from the hospital and leave her lying there and count the days remaining till she can be discharged from hospital? What is a few days and nights spent at the hospital compared to everything she has ever done for me growing up?

I hugged mum tightly to stop her crying. "I will go," I said, and packed my bags to leave for the night, "But only if you stop crying..."

And she did. And I left. It was already past nine in the evening.

Further steps...

There it is... the cause of all of mum's misery over the past year, the cause of all the upset, sleepless nights, torturous waking moments, and mindless worrying and tears.

The surgeon who operated on mum sat us, mum, brother and I, down and explained to us what he had done and could not do. The picture clearly shows a large lump encircling the seventh section of the spine down. The "dark" bit is the large tumour measuring some 10 centimetres or so across. And clearly visible is that part of the spinal column, much of which has been "eaten" away by the cancer...

The surgery twelve days ago was a success in that that part of the spine has been cleaned and cleared of as much of the tumour as possible. The spinal column that has rotted away was removed, and replaced with an column. The doctor took out his iPhone and showed us a picture he had taken during the surgery. A large gaping wound held open by metallic supports... I could see what I believe is the nerve, a pinkish long, tube-like structure that extended from the top to the bottom of the incision. There was a lot of blood... I grimaced, and thought about how mum was in that operating room all by herself. Where was I? Still flying, still trying to rush home as quickly as I could...

But mum is not yet clear. A few sections down, around section C8 and T2 there are small traces of the cancer spreading. The kind surgeon said his job is finished, but he recommends further treatment to prevent the possibility of the small traces of the tumour from growing larger. After all, when the cancer in the spine was confirmed around this time last year, she was given the option to operate, which she put off until almost two weeks ago. Within a year, the original tumour grew from a small bit compressing on the spine to a tumour which completely encompassed that region of the spine and which had eaten away the local spinal chord... Cancer is that scary, that rapid, that ruthless...

The parts of the spine with traces of the spreading cancer are localised and small in comparison to the tumour that was just removed. The surgeon said it was too risky to perform surgery, and recommends a new treatment that has only been available for around a decade or so.

The Cyberknife... a form of radiotherapy which uses extremely precise and concentrated lasers to target the problem area, with less side-effects than traditional radiotherapy (which mum received back in April-early June last year...). Some claim that it is very effective, but as it is still a relatively new treatment, there has not been much clinical evidence to support its effectiveness in the long run. And of course, with cancer, every patient responds differently to the treatment...

I could see brother was obviously very effected, for he had no clue about this and was not briefed before today's meeting. I only told him that it's an important one, and that he should be there. My facebook status this morning was "Bravely face everything...", something which he "liked". Perhaps after the consultation with the doctor, he would not be so sure any more...

We asked the doctor a few more questions, and he said he would refer us to a colleague of his at another hospital. Mum can do precise MRI scans and tests in the coming days, and the files will be transferred to the other hospital, and we were advised to make an appointment with this other doctor, who happens to be the head of Neurology.

Afterwards, the three of us sat down and discussed the matter. Mum wants to press forward, to go ahead with the treatment and asked me to make an appointment with the other doctor. I made one. For this coming Saturday.

Mum was confident, and said that she wants to get better. She said hearing the diagnosis from the surgeon who operated on her, and knowing that much of the life threatening and pain-inducing tumour has been removed, she feels lie she has a renewed license to live. She proudly told the surgeon that she wants to go travel. She told him she wants to go attend my graduation in June, and said that I study at McGill... She was very confident, very proud, but brother looked deflated and sad...

And me? What was I feeling? We just have to "bravely face everything" that comes our way...

48 hours

I just got home from the hospital. I didnt come home to rest or shower at all in the last forty-eight hours. Constantly I was at the hospital, next to mum, taking care of her every need. Very tired, but a fulfilling kind of tiredness. I would have stayed tonight again, but mum told me to come home, for she says she will be fine and actually sleep much better if I were not around... Last night, I for some strange reason could not sleep, and had to get up early this morning, for my brother's mother-in-law came to visit. We had a nice time together, and it was the first time that both grandmas and the grandchild were together in one place. Again, I watched from a distance and started to tear. What a beautiful scenery, of two middle aged women, both single, and yet brought together by a marriage, brought together by the common joy of a grandchild. I can see in their eyes, in their smiles their genuine happiness, their true joy and pride... We took mum out of the hospital today for lunch. We had to hide her under a blanket and large shawl so that her hospital gown was not showing. It was fun and felt very naughty, even though all we needed to do Was just tell the nurses we were going out for lunch. We went to a fancy restaurant, the first time for mum in two weeks or so, and the first time for me since I got back (otherwise, every meal has been some kind of take away...). Though mum's voice is still very lost and coarse, I could see she was enjoying herself a lot, being among family, and being surrounded by both her children (and daughter-in-law), and by her grandchild... Im retiring soon... I just hope mum will be alright by herself...