He's not worth the thoughts, the dreams, not worth the worry... Friends have said that to you already, they have warned you about him. He's not worth it, after the things he said, not after selfishly bragging about how he found his happiness in your greatest moment of despair. Remember how hurt you were, how hurt you still are if you think back...
Yes, he has been kind to you for a long, long time, and nobody has ever touched you so deeply. but when the time comes, he places his happiness before all else... Who wouldn't? Who can blame him? All we ever want is to be happy, and who can fault him for wanting what all men want: a chance at happiness, when you could not provide that, or provide enough of that to him?
Just let him go, let go of his thoughts, let go of his dreams... Has he not let go of you? Has he not vowed to "resolve" you before? So why are you still thinking of him and wondering how he's doing or whether he's hurting inside...?
But I do miss him... I miss him.
The original Rimi Natsukawa, 涙そうそう (Simmering tears)
Hayley Westenra, English version of "Nada Sousou"
25 February 2012
Test run
I have not really ridden a bike in Taipei before. I did, around two years ago with mum but not really that far. Just a little spin on a bike borrowed from a neighbour of ours back then.
Tonight, I felt like riding my new bike, so I grabbed it and left. I needed the time alone, I needed to feel the wind in my hair and to vent my frustrations. I needed to remind myself of the joys in life that I can still enjoy, even if on my own. And I also need to prepare somewhat for the upcoming (planned) trip around the island...
It was somewhat scary at first, riding in traffic, for this city (or perhaps this country) is notorious bad traffic and 'bad' driving. Scooters, buses, taxis, cars... And let's not mention stray pedestrians. So many all cramming the streets at the same time. And I am on a bike, fighting, it seems, for space. And I have this terrible habit of liking to go fast...
I got out of the crowded sections and found myself on a cyclepath that followed a stream which eventually led into one of the rivers that surround the big metropolitan Taipei area. I've heard of the extensive network of paths along the rivers, but never really seen them. And tonight was my first ride on just one of them.
And it was amazing! The path is so smooth, and meanders along some very scenic places of the city, allowing me a view I have never seen before. Though it soon began to rain, and thus time to head home, I did a good 20km or so, and had my first experience on my bike, and on the roads of Taiwan.
I look forward to more...
Tonight, I felt like riding my new bike, so I grabbed it and left. I needed the time alone, I needed to feel the wind in my hair and to vent my frustrations. I needed to remind myself of the joys in life that I can still enjoy, even if on my own. And I also need to prepare somewhat for the upcoming (planned) trip around the island...
It was somewhat scary at first, riding in traffic, for this city (or perhaps this country) is notorious bad traffic and 'bad' driving. Scooters, buses, taxis, cars... And let's not mention stray pedestrians. So many all cramming the streets at the same time. And I am on a bike, fighting, it seems, for space. And I have this terrible habit of liking to go fast...
I got out of the crowded sections and found myself on a cyclepath that followed a stream which eventually led into one of the rivers that surround the big metropolitan Taipei area. I've heard of the extensive network of paths along the rivers, but never really seen them. And tonight was my first ride on just one of them.
And it was amazing! The path is so smooth, and meanders along some very scenic places of the city, allowing me a view I have never seen before. Though it soon began to rain, and thus time to head home, I did a good 20km or so, and had my first experience on my bike, and on the roads of Taiwan.
I look forward to more...
Blog for a cure
Ever since I joined the online community of cancer warriors and their loved ones, I have been reading about other people's struggles and intimate, touching stories. It really has helped me in a way, especially in knowing that there are others out there who can understand. When there is no one I can turn to, not even friends, not even my ex who just breaks down and cries, these people on the internet whom I've never ever met really are a source of support.
I am touched by their stories. And every day almost there are sad ones about a warrior losing the greatest battle of his/her life. The last blog entry is usually written by a family member, or sometimes the webmaster. And several of them moved me to tears... So much struggle, so much suffering, and in the end, the person is taken away. The latest one, a lady just three years older, a mother of three young children, wife of the love of her life... So merciless is cancer! So cruel!
One day, I know, one day it will be my turn to write that difficult entry... And everything I am doing, every event I am noting down, every word I am writing down is hopefully going to make that process and that final moment all the more easier.
I am touched by their stories. And every day almost there are sad ones about a warrior losing the greatest battle of his/her life. The last blog entry is usually written by a family member, or sometimes the webmaster. And several of them moved me to tears... So much struggle, so much suffering, and in the end, the person is taken away. The latest one, a lady just three years older, a mother of three young children, wife of the love of her life... So merciless is cancer! So cruel!
One day, I know, one day it will be my turn to write that difficult entry... And everything I am doing, every event I am noting down, every word I am writing down is hopefully going to make that process and that final moment all the more easier.
Confession
"In all my life I have never been so miserable. This time it's really different..." I lay at my mum's bed side, as she quietly said those words to me. Words that sounded like a confession, words that really revealed how forlorn and tired she is of fighting, after all these years. I looked at her face, and she closed her eyes. From her lips escaped a soft groan of discomfort. I stroked her arm softly, hoping she can rest a bit...
We just spent a couple of hours at the hospital. Mum's vomiting has not improved, and seems to be getting worse. Whereas before, she would throw up a bit, the last two days or so, whenever she throws up, the vomit pours. Really pours out like a river. (This is a comical clip, yes, but it really is what it looks like when mum vomits...). The doctor said she needs to go for an endoscopy to see what is wrong with her bowels. But the earliest appointment is in over two weeks' time...
Can she wait that long and keep on vomiting? The doctor prescribed some medicine, and so far it has not helped. Just tonight, she vomited. Like a river again, everything came out in two, three installments. I could only stand helplessly next to her and pat her back, and ache in my heart... Nothing is staying in her stomach, which means she is absorbing very little when she is already eating very little. These days I am at a loss as to what to cook her, because she either has no appetite or just throws up what she eats... If the vomiting does not improve after tomorrow, she said she wants to check into Emergency.
There is a fear, mum and I both have it. The originating source of mum's cancer is in her colon, and we have for a while always been afraid that there is something wrong there again. Only a thorough and invasive operation will reveal what is the reason behind her vomiting, vomiting that has been going on for almost a month now... But all this time, her weight is steadily dropping, her health is steadily declining.
I closed my eyes too, and curled up on the bed next to mum, something I've not done for a long, long time. I hoped she would rest better with someone by her side, and in a way, I too needed the warmth of a body next to me. There is a bond and deep sense of comfort to be found in so intimate a human contact. Especially that between a mother and a child.
I gradually fell asleep too. Deep, deep, beautiful sleep, very unlike the ones I have been getting these days. Before I drifted away, I felt mum's hand on my hair, I felt her stroke my forehead. How comforting that was.
Softly, almost inaudibly... "The heavens see all that you are doing for me here..."
Was it a dream...? Was I dreaming? It was a beautiful dream if it was one...
We just spent a couple of hours at the hospital. Mum's vomiting has not improved, and seems to be getting worse. Whereas before, she would throw up a bit, the last two days or so, whenever she throws up, the vomit pours. Really pours out like a river. (This is a comical clip, yes, but it really is what it looks like when mum vomits...). The doctor said she needs to go for an endoscopy to see what is wrong with her bowels. But the earliest appointment is in over two weeks' time...
Can she wait that long and keep on vomiting? The doctor prescribed some medicine, and so far it has not helped. Just tonight, she vomited. Like a river again, everything came out in two, three installments. I could only stand helplessly next to her and pat her back, and ache in my heart... Nothing is staying in her stomach, which means she is absorbing very little when she is already eating very little. These days I am at a loss as to what to cook her, because she either has no appetite or just throws up what she eats... If the vomiting does not improve after tomorrow, she said she wants to check into Emergency.
There is a fear, mum and I both have it. The originating source of mum's cancer is in her colon, and we have for a while always been afraid that there is something wrong there again. Only a thorough and invasive operation will reveal what is the reason behind her vomiting, vomiting that has been going on for almost a month now... But all this time, her weight is steadily dropping, her health is steadily declining.
I closed my eyes too, and curled up on the bed next to mum, something I've not done for a long, long time. I hoped she would rest better with someone by her side, and in a way, I too needed the warmth of a body next to me. There is a bond and deep sense of comfort to be found in so intimate a human contact. Especially that between a mother and a child.
I gradually fell asleep too. Deep, deep, beautiful sleep, very unlike the ones I have been getting these days. Before I drifted away, I felt mum's hand on my hair, I felt her stroke my forehead. How comforting that was.
Softly, almost inaudibly... "The heavens see all that you are doing for me here..."
Was it a dream...? Was I dreaming? It was a beautiful dream if it was one...
24 February 2012
Get better soon?
Since mum left the hospital, I have rarely massaged her. She seemed to be getting better, she seemed to be walking just fine. But more and more, her mental and physical health is steadily in decline. Tonight, just before she fell asleep, I knelt by her bedside, like a boy kneeling in prayer, and began to massage her arms.
It felt so limp, so weak, so lacking in energy. It felt exactly like this after she had the surgery, and for the weeks that she was confined to the hospital premises. I pulled her fingers, rubbed the arms, massaged the muscles and shoulders. I felt bad, like I have neglected to take better care of her ever since she got home. But out of nowhere, as I was working on her arm: "You do so much for me..." Mum's words made me instantly cry. Silently cry. Because I feel at times like I have failed to take better care of her, like I am failing her, that's why she is not getting better...
I know, I should not think this way. But as a child, who grew up seeing his mother be the strong refuge to weather all troubles and worries, it is painful to see her become steadily more frail, and steadily fade... I try, and I try so hard, to make her feel comfortable, to make her feel loved. Yes, there are moments when I am so very frustrated that I lose my temper. There are moments when I am rude to her, and push her too hard because she does not seem to be eating or exercising as she should do. Like she said to me before, I am not the one with cancer. I can never understand what it feels like to feel almost constantly ill, to be in almost constant pain, to be weighed down mentally by an invisible illness that is occupying your body, your thoughts, your worst fears and reminding you of your eventual demise...
Even now, as I was writing, I heard mum coughing... And I rushed to her room to find her bent over the toilet bowl. In the water were bits of leftovers from her dinner, floating. Mum kept on spitting, and throwing up... "Please don't come here," she told me. But I stayed and patted her back..."
I only hope, and hope some more if it is not enough, that mum will get better soon. And even if she does not get better, all I can hope is that she will feel better, and be less burdened by pain and suffering...
It felt so limp, so weak, so lacking in energy. It felt exactly like this after she had the surgery, and for the weeks that she was confined to the hospital premises. I pulled her fingers, rubbed the arms, massaged the muscles and shoulders. I felt bad, like I have neglected to take better care of her ever since she got home. But out of nowhere, as I was working on her arm: "You do so much for me..." Mum's words made me instantly cry. Silently cry. Because I feel at times like I have failed to take better care of her, like I am failing her, that's why she is not getting better...
I know, I should not think this way. But as a child, who grew up seeing his mother be the strong refuge to weather all troubles and worries, it is painful to see her become steadily more frail, and steadily fade... I try, and I try so hard, to make her feel comfortable, to make her feel loved. Yes, there are moments when I am so very frustrated that I lose my temper. There are moments when I am rude to her, and push her too hard because she does not seem to be eating or exercising as she should do. Like she said to me before, I am not the one with cancer. I can never understand what it feels like to feel almost constantly ill, to be in almost constant pain, to be weighed down mentally by an invisible illness that is occupying your body, your thoughts, your worst fears and reminding you of your eventual demise...
Even now, as I was writing, I heard mum coughing... And I rushed to her room to find her bent over the toilet bowl. In the water were bits of leftovers from her dinner, floating. Mum kept on spitting, and throwing up... "Please don't come here," she told me. But I stayed and patted her back..."
I only hope, and hope some more if it is not enough, that mum will get better soon. And even if she does not get better, all I can hope is that she will feel better, and be less burdened by pain and suffering...
Severe
I looked at mum from the corner of my eyes, and she is sitting in her chair, her arm raised, her face seemingly in pain. She sits there, hour after hour... She gets up on the rare occasion to walk around a little bit, then she either sits down again or lies down. Every day is like this. Every single day...
I have to ask her, or otherwise she would not go out the house. "Too cold...", "It's raining..."... Of course it's too cold or raining here. It's the typical kind of weather in Taipei in the Winter and Spring months. But the more she does not go out, the less she wants to go out. And the less she moves, the more her bones will deteriorate, and the slower she will regain her health.
I cannot understand... I simply, simply cannot understand how it is to be ill. I cannot understand what it feels like to vomit, to feel sick, to be mentally so weighed down by cancer. But it pains me.
It pains me so greatly to see mum like this...
As if she has given up, as if she is just waiting to die...
She cannot eat. She eats half a bowl here, a mouthful there. And more often than not, it all comes out.
I am boiling in frustration. My head is spinning with a sense of hopelessness, anger, and rage. What is wrong... what am I doing wrong? Why is mum so unwell after all that I try to do for her? She was getting better before, but now with me around she seems to be getting steadily worse. I am only trying my best... Perhaps I am not trying hard enough...
Today, when I dragged her out to dinner, we walked in silence a bit. Then at one pint she said: "I should have not done CyberKnife. I've become so weak from the surgery, and the [CyberKnife] treatment made me even worse. I have no strength left..."
Immediately I felt so terribly guilty. Who was it who pushed for the treatment? Who told mum it would only be a few days? Who has to bear the side-effects, the severe fatigue, the nausea and listlessness afterwards? It's not me. I just signed the agreement to proceed. But she, she has to bear the consequences... Where did I get the authority over her health? Where did I get the say over her life or death? Why are people looking to me to decide what is best for her? Why do my grandma (mum's (step)mother), my aunt (mum's brother's wife), and my uncles (mum's brothers) all tell me that I should stick around and decide treatment for her? I don't want to shoulder all these responsibilities. I can hardly decide my own life, let alone that of my mother's...
I feel so terribly, terribly guilty. Her pain, her suffering. Is it my doing? I only meant well... I only hoped that if she did the CyberKnife treatment soon, the tumour would not grow to be too large to handle. No, mum is not blaming me for anything. She was just saying how tired she feels, and how much she feels she should have rested more before proceeding with treatment.
I have to ask her, or otherwise she would not go out the house. "Too cold...", "It's raining..."... Of course it's too cold or raining here. It's the typical kind of weather in Taipei in the Winter and Spring months. But the more she does not go out, the less she wants to go out. And the less she moves, the more her bones will deteriorate, and the slower she will regain her health.
I cannot understand... I simply, simply cannot understand how it is to be ill. I cannot understand what it feels like to vomit, to feel sick, to be mentally so weighed down by cancer. But it pains me.
It pains me so greatly to see mum like this...
As if she has given up, as if she is just waiting to die...
She cannot eat. She eats half a bowl here, a mouthful there. And more often than not, it all comes out.
I am boiling in frustration. My head is spinning with a sense of hopelessness, anger, and rage. What is wrong... what am I doing wrong? Why is mum so unwell after all that I try to do for her? She was getting better before, but now with me around she seems to be getting steadily worse. I am only trying my best... Perhaps I am not trying hard enough...
Today, when I dragged her out to dinner, we walked in silence a bit. Then at one pint she said: "I should have not done CyberKnife. I've become so weak from the surgery, and the [CyberKnife] treatment made me even worse. I have no strength left..."
Immediately I felt so terribly guilty. Who was it who pushed for the treatment? Who told mum it would only be a few days? Who has to bear the side-effects, the severe fatigue, the nausea and listlessness afterwards? It's not me. I just signed the agreement to proceed. But she, she has to bear the consequences... Where did I get the authority over her health? Where did I get the say over her life or death? Why are people looking to me to decide what is best for her? Why do my grandma (mum's (step)mother), my aunt (mum's brother's wife), and my uncles (mum's brothers) all tell me that I should stick around and decide treatment for her? I don't want to shoulder all these responsibilities. I can hardly decide my own life, let alone that of my mother's...
I feel so terribly, terribly guilty. Her pain, her suffering. Is it my doing? I only meant well... I only hoped that if she did the CyberKnife treatment soon, the tumour would not grow to be too large to handle. No, mum is not blaming me for anything. She was just saying how tired she feels, and how much she feels she should have rested more before proceeding with treatment.
New bike
Rarely do I buy myself something big, but this year I wanted to buy something for my (planned) upcoming trip: a bike.
I've been looking around and comparing prices, and found a Giant dealership nearby which give me everything I needed at a 10% discount. I bargained hard, and that was the best they could offer me, but the guy and his mother did offer me many useful tips on how to survive the long road trip.
So I went to pick up the bike today, a beautiful and speak black bike with blue lines. I added all the essentials: a carrier bag, lights, tool kit, bottle holders (two, because there are sections where there are no shops for dozens of kilometres...). And for the first time I bought a helmet, a bike jacket, padded biking pants, gloves, and even fashionable sunglasses. All together for around NT$ 28,000 (some $950). It's a lot of money I'm spending on myself in one go, but there are organised bike tours that charge that amount, if not more, and in the end you don't have a bike.
I happily rode my bike, the first 1.5km home. Mum greeted me, and i showed her my latest purchase. On the way home I bought some red bean soup and bean curd dessert, and gave some to mum as a little dessert.
She ate everything quickly. But within minutes everything came out quickly as well...
She held onto the toilet bowl and vomited again and again. "I'm so bad," she said apologetically, "That's the freshly squeezed juice from lunch..." It was so painful, so very painful to hear mum blame herself for vomiting...
Just as I thought the vomiting stopped, she coughed a bit, and again rushed to the toilet. This time even more came out. Mostly liquid form, but she threw up at least five times, everytime endless flows of liquid and food just poured out. I patted her back, but inside felt such pangs of pain, such a deep, deep sense of helplessness... Everything it seemed came out. Mum washed her mouth, but there was even more to come. Something is wrong I fear with her digestive system. It has been over three weeks since she began vomiting almost daily, and just yesterday I was saying how she seemed to be getting better, she apparently is not.
Weakened, she sat down, looked so very tired... I too sat down, somewhat guilty at the excitement and happiness I felt on my first brand new bike purchase in perhaps fifteen years...
I looked at mum, who looked so unwell, who was struggling to open a little package of her herbal medicine with her now clumsy hands and fingers...
Can I really go on this trip and leave her here all on her own? Can I leave her at all...? My bike stood in the corner and no longer looked so new and bright.
I've been looking around and comparing prices, and found a Giant dealership nearby which give me everything I needed at a 10% discount. I bargained hard, and that was the best they could offer me, but the guy and his mother did offer me many useful tips on how to survive the long road trip.
So I went to pick up the bike today, a beautiful and speak black bike with blue lines. I added all the essentials: a carrier bag, lights, tool kit, bottle holders (two, because there are sections where there are no shops for dozens of kilometres...). And for the first time I bought a helmet, a bike jacket, padded biking pants, gloves, and even fashionable sunglasses. All together for around NT$ 28,000 (some $950). It's a lot of money I'm spending on myself in one go, but there are organised bike tours that charge that amount, if not more, and in the end you don't have a bike.
I happily rode my bike, the first 1.5km home. Mum greeted me, and i showed her my latest purchase. On the way home I bought some red bean soup and bean curd dessert, and gave some to mum as a little dessert.
She ate everything quickly. But within minutes everything came out quickly as well...
She held onto the toilet bowl and vomited again and again. "I'm so bad," she said apologetically, "That's the freshly squeezed juice from lunch..." It was so painful, so very painful to hear mum blame herself for vomiting...
Just as I thought the vomiting stopped, she coughed a bit, and again rushed to the toilet. This time even more came out. Mostly liquid form, but she threw up at least five times, everytime endless flows of liquid and food just poured out. I patted her back, but inside felt such pangs of pain, such a deep, deep sense of helplessness... Everything it seemed came out. Mum washed her mouth, but there was even more to come. Something is wrong I fear with her digestive system. It has been over three weeks since she began vomiting almost daily, and just yesterday I was saying how she seemed to be getting better, she apparently is not.
Weakened, she sat down, looked so very tired... I too sat down, somewhat guilty at the excitement and happiness I felt on my first brand new bike purchase in perhaps fifteen years...
I looked at mum, who looked so unwell, who was struggling to open a little package of her herbal medicine with her now clumsy hands and fingers...
Can I really go on this trip and leave her here all on her own? Can I leave her at all...? My bike stood in the corner and no longer looked so new and bright.
23 February 2012
Flying
In my dream I was rushing to the airport... Schiphol it probably was, and there were multiple destinations I was heading to at the same time for some reason... Incheon, Toronto, Taipei and London. So many places to go, and I remember I had to rush between terminal buildings, has go shove around with my luggage. I saw myself run in the corridors of the airport trying to catch my flight(s). There were connections to be made, and I was so stressed because I was short of time.
Everything was such a rush, and I was by myself. But where was I really going to.'? Why was I hurrying to go there?
Woke up so tired, and with a sore back. The rain fell heavily the window, and mum was gagging again...
Everything was such a rush, and I was by myself. But where was I really going to.'? Why was I hurrying to go there?
Woke up so tired, and with a sore back. The rain fell heavily the window, and mum was gagging again...
New cancer blog...
It's been on my mind for some time already, and the other day I even joked with mum about starting a cancer blog. and today, feeling extremely lonely I decided to google "cancer blog". I've read various blogs here and there about cancer patients and survivors, and today I came across Blog for a Cure dedicated to just that. It contains blog entries by cancer patients and their loved ones, and there are some very well written and touching stories there worth reading.
So I decided to write. And there was no stopping me when I got started. I really have always wanted to share mum's story with others, which is a great big reason (other than the fact that it's personal and that it's my mum!) why I am blogging here a lot about cancer and its effects on people, the patient and the loved ones. I have always been a believer in sharing information, sharing stories, sharing details from your daily life and experiences, because you never know when or how your story and your life may touch and inspire another somewhere in this world.
So here is my brave mother's story...
So I decided to write. And there was no stopping me when I got started. I really have always wanted to share mum's story with others, which is a great big reason (other than the fact that it's personal and that it's my mum!) why I am blogging here a lot about cancer and its effects on people, the patient and the loved ones. I have always been a believer in sharing information, sharing stories, sharing details from your daily life and experiences, because you never know when or how your story and your life may touch and inspire another somewhere in this world.
So here is my brave mother's story...
Talk before bed
Our heads touched as I curled up next to mum. It's become a ritual of sorts, and it is my hope that this kind of close bodily contact can put mum's mind at ease, and help her fall asleep quicker.
Mum lay under a thick blanket, to protect from the cold, cold spell, and I placed my arm over mum's body, stroking her arm. For many moments, we lay there. Just the two of us in the world, it felt like, against the world. It felt so terribly lonely, just us two against everything else. The rain dropped heavily, the wind howled loudly. Nobody would ever hear of the conversation mum and I just had. Nobody else would know of the heaviness that hung around the room. The teddy bear my ex gave me to keep me company at night sat on the edge of the bed. His head hung low, his face looked so sad.
I could hear mum breathing heavily, a sign that she is falling asleep soon. Another long day at an end. Is sleep the safest refuge from waking moments? Is sleep a refuge from seeing mum suffer, seeing mum sick and vomit? If so, my disturbed sleeping patterns, and the discomfort in my bowels, sure does not provide me with real rest, real refuge...
Mum lay in bed and again said things along the lines of how she has burdened me so. I get very upset hearing her say that. "You are too good to me, and I am too dependent on you..." I closed my eyes tightly, so afraid to let my tears flow, for that would just make mum more sad, more depressed. And she needs happiness, now more than ever. If I cannot give her happiness, the worst thing I could do is give her more sadness and more things to feel remorseful about.
Too good? How can I be too good to her when often nowadays I feel I cannot do enough? And however good I am to her, I can only be there part of the time. I cannot be there all the time. I am not ready to give my whole life up and dedicate myself to taking care of her. I am too 'selfish' to do that, and neither would mum want that. I know she wants me to be happy, to live my life as I wish, as I dream of. Even if it means not being close to her.
"I can really only do what I can while I am here. It is my hope that before I leave, you can be stable enough on your own and do things by yourself," I said. Really, that has always been the reason why I stay and stay with her, the reason why I come back to be with mum whenever she undergoes treatment. So that she can get back on her feet again. So that she can be well enough and live again.
"All I ever want is you to be happy," I said. Yes, oddly it sounds so much like what I say to my ex, but it is true. For the dearest people, the people closest to my heart I only wish them well-being and happiness. And if it means giving up something, whether my time or my own happiness, to give them that so be it.
Mum began talking about money again, and I stopped her before she could continue any further. I stopped her in a rude and abrupt way, I know. I raised my voice, I know. It's terrible of me to do that, I know. But I really just detest it when she talks about money. It's always the same thing... she fears she's spending too much of her money and that she will not have much to leave to me. "I'm afraid of all the medical costs, and costs of hiring someone to take care of me will finish all my pension..."
So what? So I get little or nothing in the end. But I don't want anything. I really don't. I don't doubt that one day, when I can find a job and good career, I can provide for myself. I don't need riches, I don't need luxury to be happy. I just need to get on comfortably, that's all I need and want. And I believe I can do that on my own without having to rely on whatever mum wants to leave me. Actually, it is a wish of mine that when the day comes, and should she leave something for me, I want to give the money to charity in honour of her. In honour of my dear, brave mother who gave me so much, and even after life does not stop giving me...
"How can you even think of money at this moment?" I said. Money, money... in the face of the uncertainty surrounding life and how much longer there is left, what is money to anyone? I know, I can say this because we are a middle class family, and have never really needed to think about or worry about money too much. But especially at this stage in mum's life, money matters even less. If she finishes her savings and pension, I can take out what I have from what my dad left me. Whatever it takes for mum to be comfortable, to be free from pain, to be free from suffering, and free from regret in her life.
My head touched mum's. I closed my eyes. Quietly and in my mind I wished... "Peace... Happiness... Freedom from suffering... Sleep well, mama, sleep beautifully..."
Mum lay under a thick blanket, to protect from the cold, cold spell, and I placed my arm over mum's body, stroking her arm. For many moments, we lay there. Just the two of us in the world, it felt like, against the world. It felt so terribly lonely, just us two against everything else. The rain dropped heavily, the wind howled loudly. Nobody would ever hear of the conversation mum and I just had. Nobody else would know of the heaviness that hung around the room. The teddy bear my ex gave me to keep me company at night sat on the edge of the bed. His head hung low, his face looked so sad.
I could hear mum breathing heavily, a sign that she is falling asleep soon. Another long day at an end. Is sleep the safest refuge from waking moments? Is sleep a refuge from seeing mum suffer, seeing mum sick and vomit? If so, my disturbed sleeping patterns, and the discomfort in my bowels, sure does not provide me with real rest, real refuge...
Mum lay in bed and again said things along the lines of how she has burdened me so. I get very upset hearing her say that. "You are too good to me, and I am too dependent on you..." I closed my eyes tightly, so afraid to let my tears flow, for that would just make mum more sad, more depressed. And she needs happiness, now more than ever. If I cannot give her happiness, the worst thing I could do is give her more sadness and more things to feel remorseful about.
Too good? How can I be too good to her when often nowadays I feel I cannot do enough? And however good I am to her, I can only be there part of the time. I cannot be there all the time. I am not ready to give my whole life up and dedicate myself to taking care of her. I am too 'selfish' to do that, and neither would mum want that. I know she wants me to be happy, to live my life as I wish, as I dream of. Even if it means not being close to her.
"I can really only do what I can while I am here. It is my hope that before I leave, you can be stable enough on your own and do things by yourself," I said. Really, that has always been the reason why I stay and stay with her, the reason why I come back to be with mum whenever she undergoes treatment. So that she can get back on her feet again. So that she can be well enough and live again.
"All I ever want is you to be happy," I said. Yes, oddly it sounds so much like what I say to my ex, but it is true. For the dearest people, the people closest to my heart I only wish them well-being and happiness. And if it means giving up something, whether my time or my own happiness, to give them that so be it.
Mum began talking about money again, and I stopped her before she could continue any further. I stopped her in a rude and abrupt way, I know. I raised my voice, I know. It's terrible of me to do that, I know. But I really just detest it when she talks about money. It's always the same thing... she fears she's spending too much of her money and that she will not have much to leave to me. "I'm afraid of all the medical costs, and costs of hiring someone to take care of me will finish all my pension..."
So what? So I get little or nothing in the end. But I don't want anything. I really don't. I don't doubt that one day, when I can find a job and good career, I can provide for myself. I don't need riches, I don't need luxury to be happy. I just need to get on comfortably, that's all I need and want. And I believe I can do that on my own without having to rely on whatever mum wants to leave me. Actually, it is a wish of mine that when the day comes, and should she leave something for me, I want to give the money to charity in honour of her. In honour of my dear, brave mother who gave me so much, and even after life does not stop giving me...
"How can you even think of money at this moment?" I said. Money, money... in the face of the uncertainty surrounding life and how much longer there is left, what is money to anyone? I know, I can say this because we are a middle class family, and have never really needed to think about or worry about money too much. But especially at this stage in mum's life, money matters even less. If she finishes her savings and pension, I can take out what I have from what my dad left me. Whatever it takes for mum to be comfortable, to be free from pain, to be free from suffering, and free from regret in her life.
My head touched mum's. I closed my eyes. Quietly and in my mind I wished... "Peace... Happiness... Freedom from suffering... Sleep well, mama, sleep beautifully..."
22 February 2012
Censorship
After my ex called and spoke to me last week I (temporarily) restricted access my blog. The reason? He and his boyfriend (or whatever they are to one another) wrote to me within minutes of one another. Apparently straight after my ex spoke to me and broke down in tears, he called up his friend and god knows what was said. I was very offended why my wellbeing and my mum's health is even the topic of discussion between them, especially when I've already removed myself from the dynamic between them. How bizarre (even insulting) it was to receive an email from my ex's new partner (or whatever) telling me how I should feel and telling me to let people know how things are going here... He even ended the email with "xoxoxo", as if we are the closest of friends.
I just don't see why my ex is still so concerned about how things are going with me after he can turn to me and say "Move on!" and tell me about his newfound happiness on the night of my departure. I just don't see why he cares so much to keep on reading my blog, and why he should become so agitated and worried when he doesn't receive news from me. If he's happy, he's happy. And the happiness is not with me, after all my attempts to make him feel happy and appreciated. So what else can I do if he is not happy? I free him from the 'unhappiness' and tears I seem to bring him, I give him completely to the person he is so happy with. That is all I can do. He doesn't need to check my blog an have his happiness contaminated by what I write on here, and then turn to his new-found happiness and talk about me. Why would you even do that?
In fact, I've been sort of censoring my blog since August, right after my ex said to me he needs to "resolve" his feelings for me. I had my suspicions from that day that he has already decided that he needs to move on, forget about me or us in any capacity. It's just over these past few months, Ive been fooling myself into thinking perhaps I could move him, perhaps if I hang around long enough, he would turn around and change his heart. And what a fool I was to stick around and listen to him say "Have patience... Wait..."
So I censor my blog, or at least delay publishing some of the entries that have any bearing on my thoughts, my fears and worries, especially those entries that relate to my ex. Why should he have full access to my heart and my mind, full access to my life, when often I've found myself trying to second guess what he's thinking or doing? Besides, if he wants to move on, really move on and forget whatever it was between us that pushed him wanting to be with someone who can bring him happiness, he does not need to be constantly updated by the sad and heavy stuff, the stuff of real life, that I'm facing day in and day out. How can you be in a relationship with one person and still occupy your mind with thoughts and worries of your ex?
It's not fair to anyone.
I just don't see why my ex is still so concerned about how things are going with me after he can turn to me and say "Move on!" and tell me about his newfound happiness on the night of my departure. I just don't see why he cares so much to keep on reading my blog, and why he should become so agitated and worried when he doesn't receive news from me. If he's happy, he's happy. And the happiness is not with me, after all my attempts to make him feel happy and appreciated. So what else can I do if he is not happy? I free him from the 'unhappiness' and tears I seem to bring him, I give him completely to the person he is so happy with. That is all I can do. He doesn't need to check my blog an have his happiness contaminated by what I write on here, and then turn to his new-found happiness and talk about me. Why would you even do that?
In fact, I've been sort of censoring my blog since August, right after my ex said to me he needs to "resolve" his feelings for me. I had my suspicions from that day that he has already decided that he needs to move on, forget about me or us in any capacity. It's just over these past few months, Ive been fooling myself into thinking perhaps I could move him, perhaps if I hang around long enough, he would turn around and change his heart. And what a fool I was to stick around and listen to him say "Have patience... Wait..."
So I censor my blog, or at least delay publishing some of the entries that have any bearing on my thoughts, my fears and worries, especially those entries that relate to my ex. Why should he have full access to my heart and my mind, full access to my life, when often I've found myself trying to second guess what he's thinking or doing? Besides, if he wants to move on, really move on and forget whatever it was between us that pushed him wanting to be with someone who can bring him happiness, he does not need to be constantly updated by the sad and heavy stuff, the stuff of real life, that I'm facing day in and day out. How can you be in a relationship with one person and still occupy your mind with thoughts and worries of your ex?
It's not fair to anyone.
Physical exam
Heading out to the hospital, this time for myself. Though the feelings of bloatedness and at times burning pain in my bowels have subsided (I still feel it at times...) I feel it's time for me to get a checkup. I found a package at Wangfang Hospital, where mum received her CyberKnife treatment. I've had a good impression of the hospital since I first went there, for the staff are extremely friendly, the environment is much cleaner and 'happier' looking, and the facilities are very new (unlike at the hospital mum goes to normally close to our house, at least as far as the overall environment is concerned.). This package involves a thorough checkup of the digestive system, including colonoscopy and endoscopy, as well as scans of the entire body and blood tests. With the family history of cancer in the bowel area, I feel more the need to be careful and get checked regularly. In a way, I'm becoming paranoid, especially seeing my mum's health deteriorate like this... Without wanting to sound selfish or uncaring, I really do not wish to be like that... For it is so much suffering, so much pain, and robs you of your life...
It will be my second thorough body check, for the last was two years ago. And the actual check up day is in five days. I do need to go pick up so papers and make a downpayment, and they will need to brief me on what I should be ware of eating prior to the physical.
On the way, I'm stopping by the national bike association for some info on my upcoming big adventure. I saw online that you can rent a gps device, and if you manage to complete the journey around the island you can get a certificate. More importantly, the device can help people at home keep up to date with my progress and see where I am. Also, if i wish to solicit sponsorship for my cause, there is no better way to prove that I've completed the challenge I set out to accomplish.
But renting the device is not cheap, at some NT$800 (including a NT$3000 deposit). And in a way, I'm a little apprehensive wether I will be able to finish the journey in one go, because I'm a bit afraid of that if there is something with mum, or even with me, I may have to cut short my journey...
But I will never know until I try.
It will be my second thorough body check, for the last was two years ago. And the actual check up day is in five days. I do need to go pick up so papers and make a downpayment, and they will need to brief me on what I should be ware of eating prior to the physical.
On the way, I'm stopping by the national bike association for some info on my upcoming big adventure. I saw online that you can rent a gps device, and if you manage to complete the journey around the island you can get a certificate. More importantly, the device can help people at home keep up to date with my progress and see where I am. Also, if i wish to solicit sponsorship for my cause, there is no better way to prove that I've completed the challenge I set out to accomplish.
But renting the device is not cheap, at some NT$800 (including a NT$3000 deposit). And in a way, I'm a little apprehensive wether I will be able to finish the journey in one go, because I'm a bit afraid of that if there is something with mum, or even with me, I may have to cut short my journey...
But I will never know until I try.
Disturbed
One phone call on my birthday, and for the next three days I am so disturbed and so agitated. I know, the problem is with me, for if only I let go, then there would be no problems, no thoughts, no sleepless nights or disturbed dreams.
My thoughts keep wandering to my ex, to how we could become like this.... After all we have been through, all that intimacy and sharing over the past three years, how can we become so distant, so estranged? How could he just call me and start crying when I'm already so distraught and so very broken myself?
Is it me? Is it my refusal to let him into my life because he has told me he is happy with someone else? Is it me being selfish? Perhaps I could just make it easier for him, for all of us, and let him in, give him news, be there to support him when he needs my support.
But what about me? Is it vindictive to say: he was the one who told me to move on! He was the one who said he's found happiness! I'm not sure...
Really, I just cannot get over the fact that if he has someone already in his life, if he has someone to replace the position I occupied in his life, why does he need me? Why does he even need me to be there when he cries? Why does he need me to talk to him and listen to him when he is upset?
And who will listen to me? My ex can't even listen for five minutes without breaking down and crying... Who will hold me and give me the sense of security and safety, all that which he gave me and one day with his change of heart I no longer feel comfortable receiving from him. He can be willing to be there, and I do not doubt he will be there for me, but I simply cannot rely on someone who can switch his mind and switch his heart so quickly and who can pretend everything is the same again. I simply cannot turn to a friend, who claims to be my best friend, and yet who cannot even remember the painful and provocative things he said to me on one of the most difficult nights of my life as I was preparing to rush home to see mum...
Thus is the problem with me then? Should I just open up, let him into my life and make myself vulnerable to him, make myself weak? Should I just let it all go, let bygones be bygones, let words just be words spoken out of tiredness and confusion be forgotten and forget? Make myself available to talk to him, and then after or before talking to me he can turn to his special friend for sweet talk and further support? I just don't think that is necessary.
I just don't see how that will benefit anyone at all, and how it will make me recover and move on...
But I don't see how we, two friends, two former lovers, who used to share so much, who used to delight so beautifully in one anothers company, can reconcile or move closer together with this current impasse and divide between us...
My thoughts keep wandering to my ex, to how we could become like this.... After all we have been through, all that intimacy and sharing over the past three years, how can we become so distant, so estranged? How could he just call me and start crying when I'm already so distraught and so very broken myself?
Is it me? Is it my refusal to let him into my life because he has told me he is happy with someone else? Is it me being selfish? Perhaps I could just make it easier for him, for all of us, and let him in, give him news, be there to support him when he needs my support.
But what about me? Is it vindictive to say: he was the one who told me to move on! He was the one who said he's found happiness! I'm not sure...
Really, I just cannot get over the fact that if he has someone already in his life, if he has someone to replace the position I occupied in his life, why does he need me? Why does he even need me to be there when he cries? Why does he need me to talk to him and listen to him when he is upset?
And who will listen to me? My ex can't even listen for five minutes without breaking down and crying... Who will hold me and give me the sense of security and safety, all that which he gave me and one day with his change of heart I no longer feel comfortable receiving from him. He can be willing to be there, and I do not doubt he will be there for me, but I simply cannot rely on someone who can switch his mind and switch his heart so quickly and who can pretend everything is the same again. I simply cannot turn to a friend, who claims to be my best friend, and yet who cannot even remember the painful and provocative things he said to me on one of the most difficult nights of my life as I was preparing to rush home to see mum...
Thus is the problem with me then? Should I just open up, let him into my life and make myself vulnerable to him, make myself weak? Should I just let it all go, let bygones be bygones, let words just be words spoken out of tiredness and confusion be forgotten and forget? Make myself available to talk to him, and then after or before talking to me he can turn to his special friend for sweet talk and further support? I just don't think that is necessary.
I just don't see how that will benefit anyone at all, and how it will make me recover and move on...
But I don't see how we, two friends, two former lovers, who used to share so much, who used to delight so beautifully in one anothers company, can reconcile or move closer together with this current impasse and divide between us...
Caring
I sat in the house and quietly meditated. The phone rang, and it was the monk in the mountains. I have not contacted him for over three weeks since I last saw him. In a way because I have nothing new to say, and I hate to call up and just complain about the situation here and how unbearably frustrated and helpless I feel. So I have been avoiding calling him, and also avoiding contact with people. I know it's not healthy, but it's my way of coping...
Though I have not spoken to the monk, I did send him a package in the post. It was a hand written card together with some pictures of flowers and beautiful scenery. The last time I saw him, he looked like he desperately needed cheering up. So I sent him the pictures in the hope of inspiring him, of urging him to look on the brighter side of life.
He called and asked how I was doing. "No news is good news..." Literally. I described how the past few weeks have been. Treatments, hospital visits, vomiting, seeing mum get weaker and thinner by the day, the difficulty of getting mum to eat, the frustration of being and feeling so hopeless and helpless...
I admitted to the monk how frustrated I get, how angry at times I feel. It's not directed at mum, though it comes out towards mum, and I know it is not good for her. "It's normal," he said. He knows, because he went through that with his disciple, who was in and out of hospital for two year for treatment before the cancer took him away. I guess after a while, after taking care of someone who does not seem to get better, you get too close. You start to feel like a failure, and you blame yourself, and (wrongly so) the patient for not getting better. It is not healthy, I know... But it does happen, and I do need to keep that in mind. Not as a justification to get upset and frustrated and lose my patience quickly. But as a reminder that I am just human, and I too have limits, like any other human being.
"You are so thoughtful, even when you have your head full of things there, you sent me the package," the monk said. I don't know why I was moved to tears almost immediately. And I replied from my heart. "You are one of the people who matter in my life..."
Without blowing my own horn, it is true that I am so caring in many ways. Even in the face of difficulties, even when feeling dejected and so hopeless, I have not stopped giving hope to others, and I have not stopped showing people who matter most to me that I care about them, that I think of them. I wrote to my uncle, who is very ill and close to death... I wrote to encourage a dear friend in Belgium, who having faced the passing of her dear mother is in the final stages of her doctoral degree... I wrote to the monk, in the hope of making him feel better... And I even wrote to my ex, sending him pictures and little notes in the hope that he may be comforted and have the feeling that despite the lack of communication from my part, I am still thinking of him, and that I still care about his wellbeing and happiness.
Again, without sounding full of myself, I wonder what it would be like to meet "me", or someone like me, who rarely stops thinking about others and how they are doing... I really need one such person in my life, who can encourage me, support me and carry me through whatever I am facing.
And for the time being, until I meet this someone like me, I have me.
Though I have not spoken to the monk, I did send him a package in the post. It was a hand written card together with some pictures of flowers and beautiful scenery. The last time I saw him, he looked like he desperately needed cheering up. So I sent him the pictures in the hope of inspiring him, of urging him to look on the brighter side of life.
He called and asked how I was doing. "No news is good news..." Literally. I described how the past few weeks have been. Treatments, hospital visits, vomiting, seeing mum get weaker and thinner by the day, the difficulty of getting mum to eat, the frustration of being and feeling so hopeless and helpless...
I admitted to the monk how frustrated I get, how angry at times I feel. It's not directed at mum, though it comes out towards mum, and I know it is not good for her. "It's normal," he said. He knows, because he went through that with his disciple, who was in and out of hospital for two year for treatment before the cancer took him away. I guess after a while, after taking care of someone who does not seem to get better, you get too close. You start to feel like a failure, and you blame yourself, and (wrongly so) the patient for not getting better. It is not healthy, I know... But it does happen, and I do need to keep that in mind. Not as a justification to get upset and frustrated and lose my patience quickly. But as a reminder that I am just human, and I too have limits, like any other human being.
"You are so thoughtful, even when you have your head full of things there, you sent me the package," the monk said. I don't know why I was moved to tears almost immediately. And I replied from my heart. "You are one of the people who matter in my life..."
Without blowing my own horn, it is true that I am so caring in many ways. Even in the face of difficulties, even when feeling dejected and so hopeless, I have not stopped giving hope to others, and I have not stopped showing people who matter most to me that I care about them, that I think of them. I wrote to my uncle, who is very ill and close to death... I wrote to encourage a dear friend in Belgium, who having faced the passing of her dear mother is in the final stages of her doctoral degree... I wrote to the monk, in the hope of making him feel better... And I even wrote to my ex, sending him pictures and little notes in the hope that he may be comforted and have the feeling that despite the lack of communication from my part, I am still thinking of him, and that I still care about his wellbeing and happiness.
Again, without sounding full of myself, I wonder what it would be like to meet "me", or someone like me, who rarely stops thinking about others and how they are doing... I really need one such person in my life, who can encourage me, support me and carry me through whatever I am facing.
And for the time being, until I meet this someone like me, I have me.
21 February 2012
Rising hopes
In the afternoon, my uncle (mum's second brother) called and asked if I wanted to go out tonight. "Want to go light sky lanterns," he asked excited. He had talked about it last week when I met him and his family for lunch one day. And I didn't think he meant it, or that we would go so soon. So I said yes, and mum too wanted to come along.
Nobody knew it was my birthday, but that didn't matter. We had a wonderful and relaxed time, and I was glad mum managed to come along. We had a nice seafood dinner, and then a soak in the hot spring, which really soothed my mind and eased a lot of tension in my muscles. The water was so clear, and bubbled upward from beneath the ground at 50C. In no time, my feet and hands were red like the lobster we ate...
Then came the highlight. We drove to the coastline, and climbed onto a dike. I could not see the sea, but I could hear it very clearly. The Pacific, the vast, vast Pacific Ocean spread out so tranquilly before us. The sky was almost completely clear, almost completely still, and there were so many stars out. My uncle and his friends took out skylantern, and pieces of paper soaked in oil. The tradition is to make a wish quietly as you light lantern, and then release the lantern one by one. The last time I did it was four years ago, right after my dad passed away, and also on my birthday that year. So it was very meaningful to be doing it again this year.
I set up skylanterns with mum, and we both held one side of the lantern. For one lantern I wished that mum would be free from pain, free from suffering. I watched mum close her eyes and deep in thought. Did she wish something for herself? It was a white sky lantern, used to wish for good health or success in you career. Did she wish something for herself, or reserve her wish, and her hopes for me?
My aunt handed me another skylantern. A pink one this time. "For love!" she said, "Wish something quick!" I smiled, and held the skylantern by the side. It is rare that I wish something for myself, but this time I did have one. "May I find someone whom I love, and who loves me in return." Loves me without conditions, loves me without reservations, loves me truly, deeply, and madly, just as I do him. I smiled again at the thought, and let the skylantern go... Sometimes you just have to let go of everything before you find something you really want.I climbed onto the dike, and lay on my back for a few moments, watching the dozen skylanterns lift up higher and higher and higher into the heavens. Mesmerising. Beautiful... So tranquil... "May you carry all our hopes and dreams to far away places... May the world share in the peace, happiness, joy and freedom that these lanterns bring..."
I watched as the skylanterns joined the stars, and dimmed into the darkness. How beautiful and memorable that moment. Even more so because I spent it with mum...
20 February 2012
Call from the ex
I was really so tired from
facing mum's condition, from the poor sleep I had because of the nausea and pains in my bowels the whole night before... And then I had to deal with my ex crying on the phone.
It was a rough morning to start with, with mum waking up to severe throat aches. I tried to fix her an iced milk shake with some fruits, thinking it would give her much needed nutrients and a fibrous diet. The coldness of the shake would be easier for her to swallow too. But she resolutely refused to eat it. I only meant well, but mum just would not eat anything. More and more, it is harder to get her to eat, more and more, I feel we are having arguments over what to eat. Maybe it's me, forcing her to eat when she does not feel like it. But she is really thinning, everyone can see it. Even she says her pants fit much looser than before now. And because she's not eating enough, she remains still so weak. And because she is still so weak, she does not want to exercise, does not want to move, which makes her even weaker still... Weaker and more depressed.
I gave up, and just put the fruits on the table, and iced milk shake back into the fridge. Maybe I'm too stubborn, wanting to have things my way, thinking that my way is best, I admit. Maybe I should let her eat what she wants, whenever she wants, regardless of how healthy or how much she eats. But really, nowadays every meal time, three times a day, is a source of headache and worry...
The phone rang as I was preparing food in the kitchen. I had no time to pick up, so mum did. Mum spoke in English, and it could only be one person. My ex. I picked up the phone, somewhat reluctant at first. We have not spoken for almost a month, and I really have little to say to him after the night I left Montreal. He has been writing me, saying how much he misses me, and how much he wishes to speak to me. And he even writes that he loves me, how he has loved me ever since the day we met. True or not, his behaviour over the past few months has proven otherwise.
So we spoke. He told me about his life, what he's been up to, his work. I just listened, and was glad he seemed to be settled and progressing well in his life. Perhaps I was distant and cold, and I was reluctant to share too much about what has been happening here. He could get hints and bits of pieces of information from my blog, which I know he checks profusely. My ex began to sob. He denied it, but I could tell. I can always tell when he's crying on the other side of the line.
He called to say happy birthday, and yet he began crying. Why, I could not understand. He was the one who told me how happy he is with someone else that night when I left, so why does he feel the urge to speak to me so much? Why does he cry when he speaks to me? Why is he the one crying when he told me he is happy, and told me to move on, while fully knowing the difficult, difficult circumstances I am facing now? I could not understand it.
My ex hinted at the reason why: regret. He says he feels regret that he cannot be there for me in my greatest time of need. But I told him he has been there enough already in the past. And we are no longer in that kind of relationship where I can turn to him for everything, or vice versa. How could we be that way still when he is in a relationship? Why would he even need to turn to me when he is happy with another person? What is the point of being in a relationship with someone when you are not satisfied, completely comforted and comfortable having one person to talk to about all your worries and troubles? I was puzzled when I got text messages from him saying wondering where I was when he needed to talk to me, when he was crying and needed someone to talk to. I really fail to see where I would fit in all this when he is the one who has a boyfriend (of sorts?)...
I told him I have no ill feelings toward him, and I really do not. There really is no need to feel regret. What does it bring? Only tears and bad memories of what could have been, but never was. I just wish him happiness and hope that he is truly happy, because after all the time we have been together, whether as friends or as lovers, in the end I seem to have given him not enough and he needs to find his happiness elsewhere.
I was tired, really tired from talking to him... Already weighed down by my mum's condition, and yet on the phone I still have to deal with an ex who tells me he cares so much and loves me. It seems all I am to him now is tears and talk about cancer or my mum's condition. Where did the happiness we used to share go? Where did that deep intimacy, that love, that lust for one another suddenly go? Suddenly replaced by another better, happier, more care-free person? Suddenly forgotten and relegated to the history books?
In a way I was disappointed. I went through so much effort making him a nice scrapbook for his birthday with pictures and input from his parents and friends. I sent him cards and pictures and a book in the hope of cheering him up earlier this month. And for my birthday I got nothing, not even a card. Not that I want anything in particular. But a few written word, a personal message... is that too much to do? All he gave me was a phone call, which ended with him in tears... And later an apologetic email. Am I just worth tears to him now...?
UPDATE: 24FEB2012
I did receive a box of gifts and cards from my friends and colleagues back in Montreal, and inside were some items from the ex, and also a card. He also sent me a stuffed animal he once gave me which I left behind, and I suspect he was also the one who sent me a Winnie the Pooh bear, perhaps my favourite Disney character of all time (besides Tigger...)
It was a rough morning to start with, with mum waking up to severe throat aches. I tried to fix her an iced milk shake with some fruits, thinking it would give her much needed nutrients and a fibrous diet. The coldness of the shake would be easier for her to swallow too. But she resolutely refused to eat it. I only meant well, but mum just would not eat anything. More and more, it is harder to get her to eat, more and more, I feel we are having arguments over what to eat. Maybe it's me, forcing her to eat when she does not feel like it. But she is really thinning, everyone can see it. Even she says her pants fit much looser than before now. And because she's not eating enough, she remains still so weak. And because she is still so weak, she does not want to exercise, does not want to move, which makes her even weaker still... Weaker and more depressed.
I gave up, and just put the fruits on the table, and iced milk shake back into the fridge. Maybe I'm too stubborn, wanting to have things my way, thinking that my way is best, I admit. Maybe I should let her eat what she wants, whenever she wants, regardless of how healthy or how much she eats. But really, nowadays every meal time, three times a day, is a source of headache and worry...
The phone rang as I was preparing food in the kitchen. I had no time to pick up, so mum did. Mum spoke in English, and it could only be one person. My ex. I picked up the phone, somewhat reluctant at first. We have not spoken for almost a month, and I really have little to say to him after the night I left Montreal. He has been writing me, saying how much he misses me, and how much he wishes to speak to me. And he even writes that he loves me, how he has loved me ever since the day we met. True or not, his behaviour over the past few months has proven otherwise.
So we spoke. He told me about his life, what he's been up to, his work. I just listened, and was glad he seemed to be settled and progressing well in his life. Perhaps I was distant and cold, and I was reluctant to share too much about what has been happening here. He could get hints and bits of pieces of information from my blog, which I know he checks profusely. My ex began to sob. He denied it, but I could tell. I can always tell when he's crying on the other side of the line.
He called to say happy birthday, and yet he began crying. Why, I could not understand. He was the one who told me how happy he is with someone else that night when I left, so why does he feel the urge to speak to me so much? Why does he cry when he speaks to me? Why is he the one crying when he told me he is happy, and told me to move on, while fully knowing the difficult, difficult circumstances I am facing now? I could not understand it.
My ex hinted at the reason why: regret. He says he feels regret that he cannot be there for me in my greatest time of need. But I told him he has been there enough already in the past. And we are no longer in that kind of relationship where I can turn to him for everything, or vice versa. How could we be that way still when he is in a relationship? Why would he even need to turn to me when he is happy with another person? What is the point of being in a relationship with someone when you are not satisfied, completely comforted and comfortable having one person to talk to about all your worries and troubles? I was puzzled when I got text messages from him saying wondering where I was when he needed to talk to me, when he was crying and needed someone to talk to. I really fail to see where I would fit in all this when he is the one who has a boyfriend (of sorts?)...
I told him I have no ill feelings toward him, and I really do not. There really is no need to feel regret. What does it bring? Only tears and bad memories of what could have been, but never was. I just wish him happiness and hope that he is truly happy, because after all the time we have been together, whether as friends or as lovers, in the end I seem to have given him not enough and he needs to find his happiness elsewhere.
I was tired, really tired from talking to him... Already weighed down by my mum's condition, and yet on the phone I still have to deal with an ex who tells me he cares so much and loves me. It seems all I am to him now is tears and talk about cancer or my mum's condition. Where did the happiness we used to share go? Where did that deep intimacy, that love, that lust for one another suddenly go? Suddenly replaced by another better, happier, more care-free person? Suddenly forgotten and relegated to the history books?
In a way I was disappointed. I went through so much effort making him a nice scrapbook for his birthday with pictures and input from his parents and friends. I sent him cards and pictures and a book in the hope of cheering him up earlier this month. And for my birthday I got nothing, not even a card. Not that I want anything in particular. But a few written word, a personal message... is that too much to do? All he gave me was a phone call, which ended with him in tears... And later an apologetic email. Am I just worth tears to him now...?
UPDATE: 24FEB2012
I did receive a box of gifts and cards from my friends and colleagues back in Montreal, and inside were some items from the ex, and also a card. He also sent me a stuffed animal he once gave me which I left behind, and I suspect he was also the one who sent me a Winnie the Pooh bear, perhaps my favourite Disney character of all time (besides Tigger...)
Sick
I feel so sick. I cannot describe the discomfort in my bowels... It's not bloatedness, but a feeling of wanting to throw up, but cannot. So much saliva and liquids are being produced in my mouth, and I feel the food in my stomach unsettling. It's been like this since yesterday, and I suddenly woke up just now, at four in the morning, feeling pain and this strange sick sensation...
What's wrong with me? Is it something physical or psychological? The last few days have been very stressful on my mind and body, and perhaps my unsettled stomach and pains has something to do with it... So much pain! Now perhaps I can understand why mum is moody, why she does not to do much or interact with people much. The physical pain can really cause you so much mental anguish and ruin your day...
And I hear mum is gagging again. Perhaps she too is unable to slee and has been woken up by her stomach and pains... Perhaps she has not slept at all the whole night till now...
What's wrong with me? Is it something physical or psychological? The last few days have been very stressful on my mind and body, and perhaps my unsettled stomach and pains has something to do with it... So much pain! Now perhaps I can understand why mum is moody, why she does not to do much or interact with people much. The physical pain can really cause you so much mental anguish and ruin your day...
And I hear mum is gagging again. Perhaps she too is unable to slee and has been woken up by her stomach and pains... Perhaps she has not slept at all the whole night till now...
Today's the day
I lay next to mum on her bed. I could feel the warmth of her body, hear her breathe softly. The meditation music I put on in the background sent her off to sleep. I closed my eyes and meditated for a few moments...
"Peace, happiness, freedom from suffering... Peace, happiness, freedom from suffering..."
A last hour of my twenty-seventh year, and I was lucky to spend it lying next to mum. To think, so many, many years ago, I was still inside of her, I was still so very small, so innocent, so ignorant of the ways of the world. To think, so many, many years ago, mum was younger, stronger, and healthier. A simple cough would not make her vomit. She could go to work during the day, come home to cook, and take care of a husband and two children. She could go anywhere, do anything she wanted to at will. Now things are all different... I have grown up, I am for the most bit away from her, and she has grown old, grown ill, and slowly, slowly is losing control of the movement of her hands. Much of mum's waking moments are coping with pain, bearing the sores of her aged and ill body...
I opened my eyes and looked at mum's face.. how wrinkled it is, how much sweat and tears that face has shed over the years, and never for a moment did she complain anything was too hard, too unbearable. Instinctively, I reached over and stroked mum's hand... how wrinkled it felt, how much those fingers have worked and toiled over these two, three decades from the day I was born, to provide for me, to care for me, to love me in so many different, different ways...
"I have burdened you..." Perhaps my touch had woken her up. The meditation music reached a crescendo.
I closed my eyes and turned away. "Don't say that!" Mum perhaps does not realise how painful it is to hear that... Even if at times, I feel it, even at times I feel like my life has not been going anywhere because of the circumstances she is facing, it still is very painful to hear mum say that. I know being by her side for so long has greatly tested my patience, and there are moments I have been impatient, I have been rude to her, I have been frustrated and angry at her, I have perhaps made her disappointed and feel pressured to "get better" when she is not getting better... Even so, I am just trying, trying to cope, trying to do the best I can and with what I know. Even if mum were a "burden", what am I supposed to do? Just leave her on her own when she cannot even properly use utensils, let alone cook for herself? Just leave her when she has so little will to go outdoors, and everyday looks so sad and depressed? "You are my mother! How can you say that?" I closed my eyes even tighter.
I can only do what I can do. And nowadays it feels like I am able to do so helplessly little, which pains me, which frustrates me greatly. For growing up, mum could always make me feel safe... growing up, mum could always heal my wounds, and make me feel better again. And yet now, I am unable to do the same for her. I cannot make her feel better. I cannot make her better, whatever I do.
"I'm worried..." mum said faintly, and coughed. Her closed eyes squinted, a sign she was in pain.
"Worried about what?" I played with the heat packs I had just removed from boiling water. The packs are supposed to ease the soreness around mum's shoulders and neck, and are supposed to help her sleep easier.
"About you. Brother is already married, but you..." she strained to speak. The four sessions of CyberKnife treatment, though swift and seemingly painless, have as expected damaged her throat even further. Her throat has become swollen, and when she coughs, there is yellow phlegm.
I closed my eyes, as if in closing them, the lingering sadness can be shut aside. If not, at least the tears that threatened to seep out could be shut inside. Mothers worry about their children, that cannot be changed, and especially Asian mothers worry about their children's marriage. Even in her state of discomfort and pain, or perhaps exactly because of that, mum's mind is still preoccupied with me and my life.
"I cannot control love or who loves me..." I said, "However much I wish to have someone in my life, I have no influence over that..." I was again reminded of the conversation mum and I shared on my 'real' birthday, the one my parents remember mainly, two weeks ago. Mum asked about my ex, but I did not want to go into details. All I said was that I have not spoken to him much for two months, and that I hope he is happy.
"Why don't you think of yourself? I am still young, I have a life ahead of me. But what about you? Why spend you time worrying about me, worrying things I have no say or influence over, when you could spend time thinking about what you want to do with your life?" I held mum's hand. I have said this to her so many times, and I know deep down she too wants to plan her life after retirement, I know deep down she too wants to enjoy her life as best as she can. But the physical is a huge obstacle standing in the way, and nobody can really understand how much she hurts, how much she is so weakened and so burdened by her deteriorating health and having to hear again and again that the cancer is spreading... As she said to me once or twice, "You're not the one with cancer..."
We were silent for a few moments. Mum closed her eyes. The music continued playing. I looked at her, at her aged faced, at her wild, uncombed grey hair. I looked at her nose, her lips, her chin, her cheeks ever so closely... Have you ever really looked at someone you love and care about from so close? Have you ever looked at your own dear mother from so close?
I see my dear, brave mother, see her age, I see her slowly grow weaker and more ill by the day. How far we have come together all these years... how much longer and further can we journey together in this life?
Can I again take her traveling and can I again show her the world and its many beauties? Can I fulfill her dream of finding a partner with whom I can settle down for life, so that she may leave this world at ease? I stroked her hand, softer and gentler this time, for fear of waking her again, like I did before.
Just as I thought she was already asleep, "Thank you for everything..."
What’s the trouble on your mind? 你在煩惱什麼
(translation mine)
There is no flower that will not wilt,
There is no tide that will not retreat,
There is no light that will not darken,
What’s the trouble on your mind?
There is no scar that will not fade,
There is no wound that will not heal,
There is no despair that will not stop,
What are you being melancholic about?
Time will never reply,
Life will never make a turmoil,
Even if there is only one moment,
I am not afraid,
It is that one moment that makes up forever…
"Peace, happiness, freedom from suffering... Peace, happiness, freedom from suffering..."
A last hour of my twenty-seventh year, and I was lucky to spend it lying next to mum. To think, so many, many years ago, I was still inside of her, I was still so very small, so innocent, so ignorant of the ways of the world. To think, so many, many years ago, mum was younger, stronger, and healthier. A simple cough would not make her vomit. She could go to work during the day, come home to cook, and take care of a husband and two children. She could go anywhere, do anything she wanted to at will. Now things are all different... I have grown up, I am for the most bit away from her, and she has grown old, grown ill, and slowly, slowly is losing control of the movement of her hands. Much of mum's waking moments are coping with pain, bearing the sores of her aged and ill body...
I opened my eyes and looked at mum's face.. how wrinkled it is, how much sweat and tears that face has shed over the years, and never for a moment did she complain anything was too hard, too unbearable. Instinctively, I reached over and stroked mum's hand... how wrinkled it felt, how much those fingers have worked and toiled over these two, three decades from the day I was born, to provide for me, to care for me, to love me in so many different, different ways...
"I have burdened you..." Perhaps my touch had woken her up. The meditation music reached a crescendo.
I closed my eyes and turned away. "Don't say that!" Mum perhaps does not realise how painful it is to hear that... Even if at times, I feel it, even at times I feel like my life has not been going anywhere because of the circumstances she is facing, it still is very painful to hear mum say that. I know being by her side for so long has greatly tested my patience, and there are moments I have been impatient, I have been rude to her, I have been frustrated and angry at her, I have perhaps made her disappointed and feel pressured to "get better" when she is not getting better... Even so, I am just trying, trying to cope, trying to do the best I can and with what I know. Even if mum were a "burden", what am I supposed to do? Just leave her on her own when she cannot even properly use utensils, let alone cook for herself? Just leave her when she has so little will to go outdoors, and everyday looks so sad and depressed? "You are my mother! How can you say that?" I closed my eyes even tighter.
I can only do what I can do. And nowadays it feels like I am able to do so helplessly little, which pains me, which frustrates me greatly. For growing up, mum could always make me feel safe... growing up, mum could always heal my wounds, and make me feel better again. And yet now, I am unable to do the same for her. I cannot make her feel better. I cannot make her better, whatever I do.
"I'm worried..." mum said faintly, and coughed. Her closed eyes squinted, a sign she was in pain.
"Worried about what?" I played with the heat packs I had just removed from boiling water. The packs are supposed to ease the soreness around mum's shoulders and neck, and are supposed to help her sleep easier.
"About you. Brother is already married, but you..." she strained to speak. The four sessions of CyberKnife treatment, though swift and seemingly painless, have as expected damaged her throat even further. Her throat has become swollen, and when she coughs, there is yellow phlegm.
I closed my eyes, as if in closing them, the lingering sadness can be shut aside. If not, at least the tears that threatened to seep out could be shut inside. Mothers worry about their children, that cannot be changed, and especially Asian mothers worry about their children's marriage. Even in her state of discomfort and pain, or perhaps exactly because of that, mum's mind is still preoccupied with me and my life.
"I cannot control love or who loves me..." I said, "However much I wish to have someone in my life, I have no influence over that..." I was again reminded of the conversation mum and I shared on my 'real' birthday, the one my parents remember mainly, two weeks ago. Mum asked about my ex, but I did not want to go into details. All I said was that I have not spoken to him much for two months, and that I hope he is happy.
"Why don't you think of yourself? I am still young, I have a life ahead of me. But what about you? Why spend you time worrying about me, worrying things I have no say or influence over, when you could spend time thinking about what you want to do with your life?" I held mum's hand. I have said this to her so many times, and I know deep down she too wants to plan her life after retirement, I know deep down she too wants to enjoy her life as best as she can. But the physical is a huge obstacle standing in the way, and nobody can really understand how much she hurts, how much she is so weakened and so burdened by her deteriorating health and having to hear again and again that the cancer is spreading... As she said to me once or twice, "You're not the one with cancer..."
We were silent for a few moments. Mum closed her eyes. The music continued playing. I looked at her, at her aged faced, at her wild, uncombed grey hair. I looked at her nose, her lips, her chin, her cheeks ever so closely... Have you ever really looked at someone you love and care about from so close? Have you ever looked at your own dear mother from so close?
I see my dear, brave mother, see her age, I see her slowly grow weaker and more ill by the day. How far we have come together all these years... how much longer and further can we journey together in this life?
Can I again take her traveling and can I again show her the world and its many beauties? Can I fulfill her dream of finding a partner with whom I can settle down for life, so that she may leave this world at ease? I stroked her hand, softer and gentler this time, for fear of waking her again, like I did before.
Just as I thought she was already asleep, "Thank you for everything..."
What’s the trouble on your mind? 你在煩惱什麼
(translation mine)
There is no flower that will not wilt,
There is no tide that will not retreat,
There is no light that will not darken,
What’s the trouble on your mind?
There is no scar that will not fade,
There is no wound that will not heal,
There is no despair that will not stop,
What are you being melancholic about?
Time will never reply,
Life will never make a turmoil,
Even if there is only one moment,
I am not afraid,
It is that one moment that makes up forever…
19 February 2012
Love 愛情
Love 愛情
莫文蔚-Karen Mok(translation mine)
If not because I love you,
How come in the depth of the night there is no will to sleep?
Every thought is about you,
I miss you, miss you, miss you so.
How come in the depth of the night there is no will to sleep?
Every thought is about you,
I miss you, miss you, miss you so.
If not because I love you,
Why would there be unsettled emotions?
In every meaningless day,
I miss you, miss you, miss you so.
Love is something that tortures people,
But [am] unwilling to give up like this.
Endlessly [I] imagine in your heart
There is my name.
If not because I love you,
Why else would it be so effortless to sigh?
There is a feeling of incompleteness
Love you, love you, love you still.
Love is my one and only secret,Why would there be unsettled emotions?
In every meaningless day,
I miss you, miss you, miss you so.
Love is something that tortures people,
But [am] unwilling to give up like this.
Endlessly [I] imagine in your heart
There is my name.
If not because I love you,
Why else would it be so effortless to sigh?
There is a feeling of incompleteness
Love you, love you, love you still.
[It] lets you become brokenhearted and yet mesmerized.
What’s the trouble on your mind? 你在煩惱什麼
Sodagreen 蘇打綠
(translation mine)
(translation mine)
There is no
flower that will not wilt,
There is no tide that will not ebb,
There is no light that will not darken,
What’s the trouble on your mind?
There is no tide that will not ebb,
There is no light that will not darken,
What’s the trouble on your mind?
There is no
scar that will not fade,
There is no wound that will not heal,
There is no despair that will not stop,
What are you being melancholic about?
There is no wound that will not heal,
There is no despair that will not stop,
What are you being melancholic about?
Time will
never reply,
Life will never make a turmoil,
Even if there is only one moment, I am not afraid,
It is that one moment that makes up forever…
Life will never make a turmoil,
Even if there is only one moment, I am not afraid,
It is that one moment that makes up forever…
It has come to this...
Throughout these past few years, having been with mum so long through rough and turbulent periods, I have never seen her like this.
So sick, so frail, so depressed and so suicidal... It's like she has given up, just waiting for that day to end all days. And she doesn't want me by her side. She's telling me to go.
"I'm going to become paralysed..." "I'm going to get poisoned by all these drugs I'm taking..." I can only imagine how her pains and discomforts are causing mum to be so extreme in her thinking. But I am beginning to crack and beginning to lose ways of coping.
So helpless now, so utterly unable to lift her from the depths of her suffering, from the black hole of her negativity and bitterness... The darkest, darkest period of my life yet, and my head is aching terribly. God... dad... Listen to the sound of mum coughing, listen to her moans, listen to her vomiting... And listen to my prayers. Perhaps I don't pray hard and long enough.
"I'm going to become paralysed..." "I'm going to get poisoned by all these drugs I'm taking..." I can only imagine how her pains and discomforts are causing mum to be so extreme in her thinking. But I am beginning to crack and beginning to lose ways of coping.
So helpless now, so utterly unable to lift her from the depths of her suffering, from the black hole of her negativity and bitterness... The darkest, darkest period of my life yet, and my head is aching terribly. God... dad... Listen to the sound of mum coughing, listen to her moans, listen to her vomiting... And listen to my prayers. Perhaps I don't pray hard and long enough.
Escape
The inability to speak and the bad temperaments are unbearable. The pains and groans are eroding my mind and senses.
Nothing is anyone's fault. Mum cannot control her pains and the discomfort she feels... But my heart and soul aches everyday more, everyday more, my care and compassion dwindles, becoming everyday less, everyday less... I don't even feel like staying home, but where am I to go in this foreign city where I know nobody?
Where are my tears when I need them? Where are the tears of relief when I crave them?
I know I need to get out of here, escape, disappear, hide, for I feel myself physically and mentally becoming ill...
Nothing is anyone's fault. Mum cannot control her pains and the discomfort she feels... But my heart and soul aches everyday more, everyday more, my care and compassion dwindles, becoming everyday less, everyday less... I don't even feel like staying home, but where am I to go in this foreign city where I know nobody?
Where are my tears when I need them? Where are the tears of relief when I crave them?
I know I need to get out of here, escape, disappear, hide, for I feel myself physically and mentally becoming ill...
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