Every time just as I'm about to fully fall asleep, I feel my body "sink" and I wake up woken up by the frightening degree of fear and chaos in my dream.
I have been lying here for half an hour or so, drifting in and out of consciousness. The images in my dreams can immobilise me, make me feel like I cannot move, cannot turn, and that makes me fill with such dread, such fear!
I'm afraid to fall asleep, yet so very tired. It's tortuous to be so afraid to sleep and be tormented by dreadful dreams.
07 April 2012
Tears...
She called my name and I thought she wanted me to do something for her, so i approached her bed. but she had her eyes closed and was sleep talking. Mum mumbled something, half asleep, perhaps dreaming and seeing things. "Affair...", "Traffic..." I could not make heads or tails of her speech or what she wanted, if anything.
I instinctively reached out my hand and stroked mum's head softly and whispered "Sleep well..." Silently, in my heart I said "I love you", "Please forgive me...", "I'm sorry for all the wrong I've done to you..." My eyes flooded with tears. I felt so sorry for her... So terribly, terribly sorry for her, and I could do nothing for her. I know a lot of the things she accused me of doing wrong earlier were said because she could not bear to see me spend so much time being with her and taking care of her... I know she is angry and frustrated that she has become so dependent, and that I am shouldering much of the burden (nowadays). I know she cannot control her temper, because her bodily pains and the drugs are causing her to say things beyond her control... "Get iodide powder. I don't need the hospital to stamp it. We can go home..."
I cried even more as she said more things that did not make sense. At one point, she wanted to press the emergency button to call the nurse in. But I took it away from her, and lied to her that I'll call her myself. She was really delirious, and her mind seems to be conjuring images and thoughts beyond her control. "Just go to sleep," I said, and again stroked her head softly like I would trying to woo a baby off to sleep. I felt this sudden pain again seeing mum like that, hearing mum talk nonsense, and it scared me how much her health, both mentally and physically, has deteriorated over the past month or so. "Just go to sleep," I mustered the words to say, "And don't think too much. What happened happened already, nothing matters any more..."
When you love someone so much, when you would do anything to make that person comfortable and cared for, it breaks the heart to see her gradually lose control over her body and mind. These tears that are flowing so uncontrollably come from this deep, deep sense of pain seeing mum so lost and so confused. I hugged her legs, stroked her arms, and more tears flowed. "I love you so much... It breaks my heart. It breaks my heart so much to see you like this... Sleep well, mum, sleep beautifully...."
I instinctively reached out my hand and stroked mum's head softly and whispered "Sleep well..." Silently, in my heart I said "I love you", "Please forgive me...", "I'm sorry for all the wrong I've done to you..." My eyes flooded with tears. I felt so sorry for her... So terribly, terribly sorry for her, and I could do nothing for her. I know a lot of the things she accused me of doing wrong earlier were said because she could not bear to see me spend so much time being with her and taking care of her... I know she is angry and frustrated that she has become so dependent, and that I am shouldering much of the burden (nowadays). I know she cannot control her temper, because her bodily pains and the drugs are causing her to say things beyond her control... "Get iodide powder. I don't need the hospital to stamp it. We can go home..."
I cried even more as she said more things that did not make sense. At one point, she wanted to press the emergency button to call the nurse in. But I took it away from her, and lied to her that I'll call her myself. She was really delirious, and her mind seems to be conjuring images and thoughts beyond her control. "Just go to sleep," I said, and again stroked her head softly like I would trying to woo a baby off to sleep. I felt this sudden pain again seeing mum like that, hearing mum talk nonsense, and it scared me how much her health, both mentally and physically, has deteriorated over the past month or so. "Just go to sleep," I mustered the words to say, "And don't think too much. What happened happened already, nothing matters any more..."
When you love someone so much, when you would do anything to make that person comfortable and cared for, it breaks the heart to see her gradually lose control over her body and mind. These tears that are flowing so uncontrollably come from this deep, deep sense of pain seeing mum so lost and so confused. I hugged her legs, stroked her arms, and more tears flowed. "I love you so much... It breaks my heart. It breaks my heart so much to see you like this... Sleep well, mum, sleep beautifully...."
Breakdown
"How did we come to this? How did we come to this...?" I said, more to myself. I looked out the window at the city under the cloak of darkness. It's so bright out there, but in this room there is a low depression flowing through. I shed the first of many tears. I felt so very very sad and disappointed... So misunderstood, like all my efforts to make her feel comfortable and somewhat happy are in vain... Like all my worries and fears are wasted energies and times best spent elsewhere...
I know mum's illness and discomforts are making her moody, and perhaps the drugs are pushing her over the edge. I'm not saying she's become nuts, but for the last half an hour or so just before she laid down to sleep, she scolded me for this and that, faulting me for many things that I have done wrong and good enough.
I cannot blame her, I cannot get angry... In fact I'm so saddened that she is becoming this way. Thinking about it, about the possibility that perhaps she'll just get even worse as her illness progresses saddens me even more...
She faulted me first of all for buying the wrong size of strap to protect her stomach wound. It's too tight, she said causing her much discomfort and itchiness. She accused me of not consulting her when I make purchase and that I impose my will on her. I only bought the one I thought would fit her, for she has lost so much weight over the span of six weeks...
Next came the accusation that the massage oil I bought her last week smells bad, and this she told me this after I applied it to her arms and legs to tonight, perhaps a week since I began the routine of massaging her feet before sleep, thinking the lavender scent will help her sleep easier. It's not the smell she wants, she said, and she's just been putting up with it for all these days... All I wanted was to make her sleep better, to take away some of her sores and discomforts...
Then she faulted me for the fact that my brother and his family are coming back next week too spend some time with her. She says it's against her wishes, and that it's a waste of time for them to come back. "Why now? They showed me such disrespect before on Europe! Why now at the very end?!" All I wanted is to let her spend more time with her grandson... All I wanted was to give my brother (and sister-in-law) a chance to reconcile and spend some moments again together...
And she faulted me again for raising questions about the surgery and about inserting the NJ tube. "Can't you see what a little morphine can do to me? And you want me to go into hospice care?!" But I just wanted her to see the risks, to consider the fact there exist options out there... and did we not already do the surgery and insert the NJ tube, so where's the problem?
She even accused me of telling people that she's going crazy and accusing me of talking behind her back and complaining about her to the monk in the mountains and to a friend I've not even spoken to in maybe two months... I've not done any such thing! In fact I've not been talking to my friends much, and have been trying to insulate them from details of how difficult the situation here is... In fact, all I say to the monk or anyone else is how mum's condition is, and how concerned I am about her wellbeing...
I was angry, and so heartbroken by mum's accusations and sudden outbursts. "Fine, I'll stop doing all those things that I did so wrong. Fine, I have been so wrong and did so many things to anger you..." I was hurt, and so close to just bursting out in tears... I felt so alone in the world, so very, very alone...
Why is it that the people you love and care about most can say things to hurt you and disappoint you the most? I realise again this feeling of being wronged, of being so misunderstood-- feelings I had with my ex a couple of months back. Feelings I now am having with my own mother... Perhaps the "problem" is me: I care too much what other people say or think. I was to please people, but instead invite their wrath and annoyance. I was reminded of what the tarot card reader told me: I often do so much, too much, for other people, and yet at the end of the day, I will become very hurt and disappointed by their response. How true, and how painfully true that this is even the case with mum...
I apologised to mum. Yes, I've been moody at times. Yes, I may be thick skinned and want to do things my way thinking it's best for the other person. Yes, I'm careless sometimes and make mistakes. Yes, yes, yes, and I'm sorry. What else could I do but apologise? I raised my voice to argue in the beginning, but at one point I just didn't see the point. Why provoke her even more? Why torment her even more?
I put her to bed, arranged her blanket and wiped a bit of her massage oil off with a wet cloth. I was annoyed, and just wanted to sit in the corner and collect my mind, my hurt and painfully disappointed mind that was so taken aback by the sudden and dramatic turn of events, and by mum's outbursts and anger.
"Maybe it's time for self-reflection. Maybe I shouldn't be doing so much to annoy you and cause you much trouble..."
I had a thought, an ugly thought. I must be selfish, more selfish and focus on my own life, my own wellbeing, my own happiness. I can't ever please others, for there will ways be something to say, something to criticise. But I can't say much if I just go and do my own things, live my own life away from the very people you think are so close and dear to you, and yet with angry exchanges and sudden outbursts can leave you wondering why you have invested so much time and energy on them for.
Time to stop doing others a favour, time to do myself a favour, and live free from all this.
I know mum's illness and discomforts are making her moody, and perhaps the drugs are pushing her over the edge. I'm not saying she's become nuts, but for the last half an hour or so just before she laid down to sleep, she scolded me for this and that, faulting me for many things that I have done wrong and good enough.
I cannot blame her, I cannot get angry... In fact I'm so saddened that she is becoming this way. Thinking about it, about the possibility that perhaps she'll just get even worse as her illness progresses saddens me even more...
She faulted me first of all for buying the wrong size of strap to protect her stomach wound. It's too tight, she said causing her much discomfort and itchiness. She accused me of not consulting her when I make purchase and that I impose my will on her. I only bought the one I thought would fit her, for she has lost so much weight over the span of six weeks...
Next came the accusation that the massage oil I bought her last week smells bad, and this she told me this after I applied it to her arms and legs to tonight, perhaps a week since I began the routine of massaging her feet before sleep, thinking the lavender scent will help her sleep easier. It's not the smell she wants, she said, and she's just been putting up with it for all these days... All I wanted was to make her sleep better, to take away some of her sores and discomforts...
Then she faulted me for the fact that my brother and his family are coming back next week too spend some time with her. She says it's against her wishes, and that it's a waste of time for them to come back. "Why now? They showed me such disrespect before on Europe! Why now at the very end?!" All I wanted is to let her spend more time with her grandson... All I wanted was to give my brother (and sister-in-law) a chance to reconcile and spend some moments again together...
And she faulted me again for raising questions about the surgery and about inserting the NJ tube. "Can't you see what a little morphine can do to me? And you want me to go into hospice care?!" But I just wanted her to see the risks, to consider the fact there exist options out there... and did we not already do the surgery and insert the NJ tube, so where's the problem?
She even accused me of telling people that she's going crazy and accusing me of talking behind her back and complaining about her to the monk in the mountains and to a friend I've not even spoken to in maybe two months... I've not done any such thing! In fact I've not been talking to my friends much, and have been trying to insulate them from details of how difficult the situation here is... In fact, all I say to the monk or anyone else is how mum's condition is, and how concerned I am about her wellbeing...
I was angry, and so heartbroken by mum's accusations and sudden outbursts. "Fine, I'll stop doing all those things that I did so wrong. Fine, I have been so wrong and did so many things to anger you..." I was hurt, and so close to just bursting out in tears... I felt so alone in the world, so very, very alone...
Why is it that the people you love and care about most can say things to hurt you and disappoint you the most? I realise again this feeling of being wronged, of being so misunderstood-- feelings I had with my ex a couple of months back. Feelings I now am having with my own mother... Perhaps the "problem" is me: I care too much what other people say or think. I was to please people, but instead invite their wrath and annoyance. I was reminded of what the tarot card reader told me: I often do so much, too much, for other people, and yet at the end of the day, I will become very hurt and disappointed by their response. How true, and how painfully true that this is even the case with mum...
I apologised to mum. Yes, I've been moody at times. Yes, I may be thick skinned and want to do things my way thinking it's best for the other person. Yes, I'm careless sometimes and make mistakes. Yes, yes, yes, and I'm sorry. What else could I do but apologise? I raised my voice to argue in the beginning, but at one point I just didn't see the point. Why provoke her even more? Why torment her even more?
I put her to bed, arranged her blanket and wiped a bit of her massage oil off with a wet cloth. I was annoyed, and just wanted to sit in the corner and collect my mind, my hurt and painfully disappointed mind that was so taken aback by the sudden and dramatic turn of events, and by mum's outbursts and anger.
"Maybe it's time for self-reflection. Maybe I shouldn't be doing so much to annoy you and cause you much trouble..."
I had a thought, an ugly thought. I must be selfish, more selfish and focus on my own life, my own wellbeing, my own happiness. I can't ever please others, for there will ways be something to say, something to criticise. But I can't say much if I just go and do my own things, live my own life away from the very people you think are so close and dear to you, and yet with angry exchanges and sudden outbursts can leave you wondering why you have invested so much time and energy on them for.
Time to stop doing others a favour, time to do myself a favour, and live free from all this.
Goodbye
I peered through the looking glass, with big puppy eyes, at my friend who was queuing up to pass through immigration. A three day visit, and many moments of laughter and joking around, have come to an end. I wasn't sad, because I know somehow, somewhere, even if we don't keep in touch for a long while, we will meet again someday, and we will again be able to enjoy carefree and happy days with one another as we embark on another adventure together.
His visit took me by surprise, and involved a number of people keeping very good secrets from me. When I said good-bye, I hugged him tightly and placed my cheek against his. "Thank you," I said, "I appreciate it a lot..." I really do. For in my darkest moments, he seems able to suddenly appear and find ways to distract me, to cheer me up, to make me forget (at least temporarily) and to make me remember how to laugh-- a precious ability I often fear I may loose under oppressive circumstances.
Before he walked away, I hugged him again, and thanked him again. His visit has given me reason to laugh and hope, and has reminded me again there are friends who genuinely care and who would go to lengths to lift me up.
I made my way back to the city, a little bit stronger to face whatever I must face in the days ahead.
His visit took me by surprise, and involved a number of people keeping very good secrets from me. When I said good-bye, I hugged him tightly and placed my cheek against his. "Thank you," I said, "I appreciate it a lot..." I really do. For in my darkest moments, he seems able to suddenly appear and find ways to distract me, to cheer me up, to make me forget (at least temporarily) and to make me remember how to laugh-- a precious ability I often fear I may loose under oppressive circumstances.
Before he walked away, I hugged him again, and thanked him again. His visit has given me reason to laugh and hope, and has reminded me again there are friends who genuinely care and who would go to lengths to lift me up.
I made my way back to the city, a little bit stronger to face whatever I must face in the days ahead.
Fart
Mum is snoring again. I woke up several times, at one, at two, at three thirty, and saw her lying there twist and turn and occasionally groan. Time to get up, I told her. "It doesn't help if you can't sleep and just lie there!"
She did get four hours or so of sleep after the nurse gave her this liquid sleeping aid. "It'll knock you off, as it goes right to her central vein." sure enough, when it was administered at eleven, within minutes of lying down, she was snoring. Until she woke up and couldn't sleep at three something.
I got her up, took her on a walk around the ward. The night nurse is an energetic young girl from the south, so very warm and very friendly, and it's always a delight to see her, even at close to four in the morning.
And then mum farted.
That deserves a sentence and mention on its own. A silent (but deadly?) fart. The fart we have been anticipating since the surgery. The fart of farts to overshadow all farts. The fart that will hopefully usher in newer and bigger farts! A fart after any major surgery is a sign that the body is recovering, and that you can eat again. And especially with this surgery, meant to correct the internal plumbing system and ensure food can go down, the fart is very important and meaningful. It could very well mean mum could be drinking and eating, and no longer vomit as she has been doing for over a month. Further sign of the plumbing working better is that there is more pee being collected in the urinary pouch connected to her leg. I know, because I'm responsible for emptying it regularly and for measuring the amount. And just now I emptied some 700cc of urine, lighter than anything I've seen over the past few days. Again, a good sign!
Perhaps all this talk of farting and collecting urine is sick. But to me, it's all just part of natural bodily functions. And I'm so glad mum are getting them for they signal a return to being "normal" again!
She did get four hours or so of sleep after the nurse gave her this liquid sleeping aid. "It'll knock you off, as it goes right to her central vein." sure enough, when it was administered at eleven, within minutes of lying down, she was snoring. Until she woke up and couldn't sleep at three something.
I got her up, took her on a walk around the ward. The night nurse is an energetic young girl from the south, so very warm and very friendly, and it's always a delight to see her, even at close to four in the morning.
And then mum farted.
That deserves a sentence and mention on its own. A silent (but deadly?) fart. The fart we have been anticipating since the surgery. The fart of farts to overshadow all farts. The fart that will hopefully usher in newer and bigger farts! A fart after any major surgery is a sign that the body is recovering, and that you can eat again. And especially with this surgery, meant to correct the internal plumbing system and ensure food can go down, the fart is very important and meaningful. It could very well mean mum could be drinking and eating, and no longer vomit as she has been doing for over a month. Further sign of the plumbing working better is that there is more pee being collected in the urinary pouch connected to her leg. I know, because I'm responsible for emptying it regularly and for measuring the amount. And just now I emptied some 700cc of urine, lighter than anything I've seen over the past few days. Again, a good sign!
Perhaps all this talk of farting and collecting urine is sick. But to me, it's all just part of natural bodily functions. And I'm so glad mum are getting them for they signal a return to being "normal" again!
06 April 2012
Gay fortunetelling
Taiwan has quite a large and developed gay community. There are various organisations advancing gay and lesbian rights, sexual orientation discrimination is prohibited by the law, the capital city annually hosts the largest pride event in the region, and there is talk of opening marriage for same-sex couples. Apparently there is even a temple dedicated to the deity protecting homosexuals! On the streets, I have occasionally seen couples hold hands openly, and a number of gay celebrities (including a transexual) on tv gives the impression that being gay is not really that shocking. And once, together with a friend, I asked an elderly lady who volunteers at the metro station where a gay-themed book store is located, she did not look shocked but very friendly and kindly told us where to go!
Today, with my friend we explored a bit of one of the gay districts of Taipei, and we went into a store, which we realised only later caters to lesbians (though the things, like clothes and accessories on sell seemed very boyish to me... Well, maybe all the reason why it's a lez shop!) As we were about to leave the store owner told us about a tarot reading service which caters specifically to the gay community.
I've never heard of such a thing, so I was very curious. So I sat down, and wanted to give it a go. The one question that has been bothering me a lot is my relationship (or lack thereof...) with my ex. I have been very troubled and torn by the hard to decipher signals he's been sending me, not least a number of emails he sent me declaring his true feelings and realisations about me being the one he loves, has always loved... And he even went as far as sending a mutual friend (actually the one I was with today...) to fly here to check up on me (though in a way, that's also creepy, for I feel like I'm being spied on on various levels and can't readily talk to any of my friends without news of me getting back to my ex...)
Frankly I'm very lost as to what he feels towards me, really feels towards me, as what he would like from me. Does he want a new start? Or is he just saying all these things because he figures out they are what I would be moved by and they are the way to get me to open up to him again? Is he playing with my feelings, trying to see where I stand while simultaneously having a relationship on the side in case I reject him? I just am so confused...
I randomly picked three cards, each which represent the past, present and future. The lady deciphered that I feel much insecurity with my ex, and this is holding me back from committing again with him (if that is even an option, and if that is even what he still wants...). It's true, after what we have gone through, being told to wait and to have patience while he figures things out has really made me feel like I'm just an option, like I'm a third wheel that is only needed as a replacement in case his pursuit of happiness with another fails. Friends have not hidden their views that, as far as they can understand and see, what he's been doing is terribly selfish of him, but I know I am partly responsible for the circumstances we find ourselves in.
Another tarot card shows that I sacrifice too much of myself, give too much just to please the other person, and often wonder in the end what I get from what I give. And it warned me also to be wary of being too gullible to what my ex tells me, for though I can set my heart on something, sometimes what he tells me can uproot my plans and I'll just follow suit just to placate him, while forgoing my own and deepest wishes.
A lot of what she said of me springs from my own inner conflicts, from wounds deep down that have yet to completely heal, things I have yet to face and change. Whoever it is I am with, whether with my ex or someone else, I'll always feel the same if I don't change my perception of things, if I don't resolve inner conflicts and feelings of insecurity. (I knew somewhat, or was perhaps persuades into thinking that what she was hinting at were the dark past I faced...). The teacher said i need to look into my 2nd chakra point, which is out of balance. It's a point which deals with emotions, and which may result in fear of having pleasure, being out of touch with feelings, and also being resistant to change. And there is also something I need to resolve with my mother, she said (which was very alarming when she mentioned this, especially as I'm so tied down by my relationship with her...), and that I need to be able to let go of things, or otherwise I cannot progress and will always be turnoff around in a karmic circle that keeps on repeating itself...
The fortune teller did not say, could not say whether my ex is "the One". Tarot card reading is not like that; it's not like more conventional and local forms of fortunetelling whereby your life and events and even partner can be foretold, the lady explained. Thirty percent, the "unseen" can be foretold by the tarot teacher, but the rest of the seventy percent depends on yourself. She did not say whether my ex and I will have a future or whether we are compatible... We know best how we suit one another or not. Even if he is not compatible, not the one, fundamentally I'll always have the same issues repeat themselves whoever I am with. Insecurity, dependence, overly self sacrificing and feeling not understood enough are my own issues and comes from within me. Even with the "right one" those feelings and insecurities will not go away until I myself make some changes. I need to open up, to let go of the past, and to trust. But of course the other person must make efforts to prove that he is trustworthy, the other person must also be willing to make make changes and compromises so that If we are to start something again, we break from that old, vicious cycle of insecurity and distrust, of being separated and unwilling to let go, and yet tormenting ourselves fearing whether we are letting a wonderful chance of a lifetime just go by.
She read my heart and told me deep down I'm not ready to let go yet, but I'm very afraid to be hurt again, and that I have difficulty in trusting again. She said I deep down want to have contact and no longer ignore his attempts to make contact, but I am just unsure what renewing contact will bring. I fear renewing contact will undo the healing that I have managed to do on my own for three months now. I fear I'll too quickly fall for his words and promises (only he knows whether they are true words and true promises, only he will have to live with his conscience...). But I know deep down this is too good, there is too much there to just let things go without trying again.
"I recommend you renew contact..." was what she wrote on a piece of paper. She can't tell me definitively what will happen, because life and love can change when two people are willing to work to change, work to jump out of the dark past and painful memories. Two people, with compromise and understanding, with letting go of certain things and embracing flaws and faults in one another can make breathe new life into a stalled relationship.
Today, with my friend we explored a bit of one of the gay districts of Taipei, and we went into a store, which we realised only later caters to lesbians (though the things, like clothes and accessories on sell seemed very boyish to me... Well, maybe all the reason why it's a lez shop!) As we were about to leave the store owner told us about a tarot reading service which caters specifically to the gay community.
I've never heard of such a thing, so I was very curious. So I sat down, and wanted to give it a go. The one question that has been bothering me a lot is my relationship (or lack thereof...) with my ex. I have been very troubled and torn by the hard to decipher signals he's been sending me, not least a number of emails he sent me declaring his true feelings and realisations about me being the one he loves, has always loved... And he even went as far as sending a mutual friend (actually the one I was with today...) to fly here to check up on me (though in a way, that's also creepy, for I feel like I'm being spied on on various levels and can't readily talk to any of my friends without news of me getting back to my ex...)
Frankly I'm very lost as to what he feels towards me, really feels towards me, as what he would like from me. Does he want a new start? Or is he just saying all these things because he figures out they are what I would be moved by and they are the way to get me to open up to him again? Is he playing with my feelings, trying to see where I stand while simultaneously having a relationship on the side in case I reject him? I just am so confused...
I randomly picked three cards, each which represent the past, present and future. The lady deciphered that I feel much insecurity with my ex, and this is holding me back from committing again with him (if that is even an option, and if that is even what he still wants...). It's true, after what we have gone through, being told to wait and to have patience while he figures things out has really made me feel like I'm just an option, like I'm a third wheel that is only needed as a replacement in case his pursuit of happiness with another fails. Friends have not hidden their views that, as far as they can understand and see, what he's been doing is terribly selfish of him, but I know I am partly responsible for the circumstances we find ourselves in.
Another tarot card shows that I sacrifice too much of myself, give too much just to please the other person, and often wonder in the end what I get from what I give. And it warned me also to be wary of being too gullible to what my ex tells me, for though I can set my heart on something, sometimes what he tells me can uproot my plans and I'll just follow suit just to placate him, while forgoing my own and deepest wishes.
A lot of what she said of me springs from my own inner conflicts, from wounds deep down that have yet to completely heal, things I have yet to face and change. Whoever it is I am with, whether with my ex or someone else, I'll always feel the same if I don't change my perception of things, if I don't resolve inner conflicts and feelings of insecurity. (I knew somewhat, or was perhaps persuades into thinking that what she was hinting at were the dark past I faced...). The teacher said i need to look into my 2nd chakra point, which is out of balance. It's a point which deals with emotions, and which may result in fear of having pleasure, being out of touch with feelings, and also being resistant to change. And there is also something I need to resolve with my mother, she said (which was very alarming when she mentioned this, especially as I'm so tied down by my relationship with her...), and that I need to be able to let go of things, or otherwise I cannot progress and will always be turnoff around in a karmic circle that keeps on repeating itself...
The fortune teller did not say, could not say whether my ex is "the One". Tarot card reading is not like that; it's not like more conventional and local forms of fortunetelling whereby your life and events and even partner can be foretold, the lady explained. Thirty percent, the "unseen" can be foretold by the tarot teacher, but the rest of the seventy percent depends on yourself. She did not say whether my ex and I will have a future or whether we are compatible... We know best how we suit one another or not. Even if he is not compatible, not the one, fundamentally I'll always have the same issues repeat themselves whoever I am with. Insecurity, dependence, overly self sacrificing and feeling not understood enough are my own issues and comes from within me. Even with the "right one" those feelings and insecurities will not go away until I myself make some changes. I need to open up, to let go of the past, and to trust. But of course the other person must make efforts to prove that he is trustworthy, the other person must also be willing to make make changes and compromises so that If we are to start something again, we break from that old, vicious cycle of insecurity and distrust, of being separated and unwilling to let go, and yet tormenting ourselves fearing whether we are letting a wonderful chance of a lifetime just go by.
She read my heart and told me deep down I'm not ready to let go yet, but I'm very afraid to be hurt again, and that I have difficulty in trusting again. She said I deep down want to have contact and no longer ignore his attempts to make contact, but I am just unsure what renewing contact will bring. I fear renewing contact will undo the healing that I have managed to do on my own for three months now. I fear I'll too quickly fall for his words and promises (only he knows whether they are true words and true promises, only he will have to live with his conscience...). But I know deep down this is too good, there is too much there to just let things go without trying again.
"I recommend you renew contact..." was what she wrote on a piece of paper. She can't tell me definitively what will happen, because life and love can change when two people are willing to work to change, work to jump out of the dark past and painful memories. Two people, with compromise and understanding, with letting go of certain things and embracing flaws and faults in one another can make breathe new life into a stalled relationship.
05 April 2012
Morphine
Morphine
06042012.2150
Mum said she hardly slept last night. She looked so tired, though her eyes seemed to be wide open, as if she saw something that alarmed her.
The way she spoke, she sounded like she was tortured beyond imagination, as if she had been kept awake by something, even though she desperately wanted to sleep, but could not.
"The ceiling, it was tumbling down! I saw it...!" she exclaimed. She pointed to a part of the ceiling, where a tile was raised a bit. "I was so scared..."
It is painful enough to see mum be so tormented by her bodily discomforts. This morning I encountered for the first time what it feels like to deal with someone who appears to be seeing things. A friend of mine told me how difficult it is to deal with a family member who is losing mental clarity, how painful it is to see someone's thoughts and logic deteriorate. I wondered to myself what is worse... to see your loved one's body waste away, or to see your loved one's brain rot away. And what does it feel like to have to deal with both?
Luckily though, as the anaesthetist reassured me, mum's delirium and "seeing things" may be attributed to the morphine drips that has been administered periodically since her surgery. It's supposed to remove the extreme pain from an open wound that has only been stitched together. But morphine used on some people can induce delirium, hallucinations and dreams. Perhaps what mum is experiencing, her many and random dreams over the past few days, and seeing things like the ceiling collapsing, is due to the morphine. Once the drugs wear off and is stopped completely tomorrow or so, she should be back to "normal".
But a thought did cross my mind... As the cancer progresses, there may be a day when we have to rely on morphine to make mum's life and body bearable. The dosage this time is administered in a controlled manner, and adjusted according to her level of pain. But look at the effect it already has on mum's mind and sleep... Could it be that when that day comes, when mum has to rely on morphine to advance her quality of life that she could become even more lost and be even more disturbed by the sideeffects?
06042012.2150
Mum said she hardly slept last night. She looked so tired, though her eyes seemed to be wide open, as if she saw something that alarmed her.
The way she spoke, she sounded like she was tortured beyond imagination, as if she had been kept awake by something, even though she desperately wanted to sleep, but could not.
"The ceiling, it was tumbling down! I saw it...!" she exclaimed. She pointed to a part of the ceiling, where a tile was raised a bit. "I was so scared..."
It is painful enough to see mum be so tormented by her bodily discomforts. This morning I encountered for the first time what it feels like to deal with someone who appears to be seeing things. A friend of mine told me how difficult it is to deal with a family member who is losing mental clarity, how painful it is to see someone's thoughts and logic deteriorate. I wondered to myself what is worse... to see your loved one's body waste away, or to see your loved one's brain rot away. And what does it feel like to have to deal with both?
Luckily though, as the anaesthetist reassured me, mum's delirium and "seeing things" may be attributed to the morphine drips that has been administered periodically since her surgery. It's supposed to remove the extreme pain from an open wound that has only been stitched together. But morphine used on some people can induce delirium, hallucinations and dreams. Perhaps what mum is experiencing, her many and random dreams over the past few days, and seeing things like the ceiling collapsing, is due to the morphine. Once the drugs wear off and is stopped completely tomorrow or so, she should be back to "normal".
But a thought did cross my mind... As the cancer progresses, there may be a day when we have to rely on morphine to make mum's life and body bearable. The dosage this time is administered in a controlled manner, and adjusted according to her level of pain. But look at the effect it already has on mum's mind and sleep... Could it be that when that day comes, when mum has to rely on morphine to advance her quality of life that she could become even more lost and be even more disturbed by the sideeffects?
Sleeplessness
I went in at seven this morning, and mum was sleeping. She slept poorly last night, the carer said, and was for some reason simply unable to sleep.
"I want to change rooms..." she told me. She first mentioned it last week, saying this particular room is not "suitable" for her. She doesn't say the word, but I know she believes the room is "not clean", in other words haunted or has some kind of spirit demon. And hence at night she is kept wide awake...
Whether it's true or not I don't know. But she is unable to rest, and there is a psychological reason keeping her awake at night. The more awake she is, the more she scares herself, and hence keeping her even more awake.
For non-believers, you might point to the fact that mum has had trouble sleeping for a while now, since around February. I don't know what the cause is, and she has been prescribed sleeping aids. But still she's often awake at night, even at home. I suspect it's related to her illness, and perhaps her mind is proliferating with thoughts and fears (something mum denies, for she says her mind is just blank when she lies in bed...). What is strange is that for the last two nights, she slept through the night without a problem. The painkiller induces sleep, but today, three days after the surgery, they reduced the dosage of the painkillers. So there is more reason to believe that perhaps a lot of the cause of her sleeplessness is psychological.
But I can't tell her that it's in her mind. She gets upset and says I don't understand. So we went to the head nurse and requested a room change. Mum says she wants to be back in the ward where she was when she was originally admitted about two weeks ago. From the way the head nurse spoke, I could tell she also found it strange and did not fully buy the story that mum's sleeplessness is due to the room where she is now being "unclean" (haunted...).
What do I say? I just feel so frustrated, because besides the physical discomforts and uncertainty whether mum can eat or not, now I have to deal with her strong belief that there is something "bad" in the room she is in.
If really moving will calm her mind, then fine I can help move everything. But at the moment, there is simply no other one bed suite available. And it is unlikely mum would want to move back into sharing a room with another patient.
Very frustrating...
"I want to change rooms..." she told me. She first mentioned it last week, saying this particular room is not "suitable" for her. She doesn't say the word, but I know she believes the room is "not clean", in other words haunted or has some kind of spirit demon. And hence at night she is kept wide awake...
Whether it's true or not I don't know. But she is unable to rest, and there is a psychological reason keeping her awake at night. The more awake she is, the more she scares herself, and hence keeping her even more awake.
For non-believers, you might point to the fact that mum has had trouble sleeping for a while now, since around February. I don't know what the cause is, and she has been prescribed sleeping aids. But still she's often awake at night, even at home. I suspect it's related to her illness, and perhaps her mind is proliferating with thoughts and fears (something mum denies, for she says her mind is just blank when she lies in bed...). What is strange is that for the last two nights, she slept through the night without a problem. The painkiller induces sleep, but today, three days after the surgery, they reduced the dosage of the painkillers. So there is more reason to believe that perhaps a lot of the cause of her sleeplessness is psychological.
But I can't tell her that it's in her mind. She gets upset and says I don't understand. So we went to the head nurse and requested a room change. Mum says she wants to be back in the ward where she was when she was originally admitted about two weeks ago. From the way the head nurse spoke, I could tell she also found it strange and did not fully buy the story that mum's sleeplessness is due to the room where she is now being "unclean" (haunted...).
What do I say? I just feel so frustrated, because besides the physical discomforts and uncertainty whether mum can eat or not, now I have to deal with her strong belief that there is something "bad" in the room she is in.
If really moving will calm her mind, then fine I can help move everything. But at the moment, there is simply no other one bed suite available. And it is unlikely mum would want to move back into sharing a room with another patient.
Very frustrating...
Life is for living
My friend has known me for around six years, and it's funny a lot of the friendly advice he offers me every time he see me is always the same. "Have fun while you're still young," he tells me, go out and meet people.
A part of me is tempted... Tempted by the idea of just going out there and enjoying myself, not thinking too much about what happens. How else are you going to meet people and broaden the circle of friends? How else are you going to find out what it is you really want out of life and in a potential partner, and not be restricted to what you already know?
In many ways I admire my friend and his very open and friendly nature. He can just backpack somewhere and make contact with strangers who become travel buddies and friends within a short time. I've done a fair bot of traveling myself, but much of it solo, and I don't get to meet anyone, let alone befriend anyone...
I know the problem is with me, for I've always been shy and have a hard time beginning to socialise with strangers. Once the barrier is broken, I can be a good friend and care about the person easily and quickly. But finding conversation, even just going up to chat with someone makes me hesitate...
Today was a good example. We were at a bar and having drinks, and these three foreigners came in and sat down behind us. I suspected they spoke a Germanic language, and later I realised it was Dutch. I had the opportunity to just make conversation, in their native language even, but I was afraid for some reason. "What do you have to lose?" my friend told me. Really, what do I have to lose except a few minutes of my life at most. And who knows what I have to gain (perhaps even if things had gone differently, I wouldn't be here right now typing this entry...)
My friend tells me to go live more, have fun, enjoy life. And he's been telling me that since I was twenty one, when I first met him. Not much has changed, at least as far as personality is concerned... I'm still very bashful, I'm still a bit conservative, perhaps even a hopeless romantic, when it comes to relationships and being with "the One". Sure I've had one or two relationship worth mentioning, but the last one ended up in shambles because I took too long to realise what I really had and was for a long time too afraid to commit and go admit to myself I love the person... And look at me now... Single, still dreaming of and longing for someone who seems to have just moved on as soon as I left the country (at least from what I know and hear). And friends laugh at me and ask me why I'm still so caught up in the memories of a short lived relationship with the ex, when he seemed so able to quickly break thins off with me to go after someone else.
Perhaps I should just loosen up, enjoy myself more, and not feel always so conflicted and constricted by my (self imposed) duties and obligations to others. Perhaps really I should just live life, prioritise my own happiness and wellbeing before everything else, because in the end, relying on others for happiness is being too dependent and most likely just ultimately brings disappointment. I mean I've been wanting to go out and meet people, even just for a chat and a coffee, but I haven't done it because I'm just too preoccupied with mum's situation and deteriorating health... I so much long to make new friends here in a "foreign" city where I know no one (besides relatives...), but a part of me thinks pulls me back and is afraid of what may happen... But what am I afraid of? Who am I even obligated to? I'm single, I'm free, I'm free to see whoever I want, do whatever with whomever I wish to... But I don't. I stay home, dreaming meeting the "true one", daydreaming about a life and future that exists only in my fantasies...
Just so silly, just so very typical of my horoscope! Must live life more, have more fun, instead of living in dreams!
A part of me is tempted... Tempted by the idea of just going out there and enjoying myself, not thinking too much about what happens. How else are you going to meet people and broaden the circle of friends? How else are you going to find out what it is you really want out of life and in a potential partner, and not be restricted to what you already know?
In many ways I admire my friend and his very open and friendly nature. He can just backpack somewhere and make contact with strangers who become travel buddies and friends within a short time. I've done a fair bot of traveling myself, but much of it solo, and I don't get to meet anyone, let alone befriend anyone...
I know the problem is with me, for I've always been shy and have a hard time beginning to socialise with strangers. Once the barrier is broken, I can be a good friend and care about the person easily and quickly. But finding conversation, even just going up to chat with someone makes me hesitate...
Today was a good example. We were at a bar and having drinks, and these three foreigners came in and sat down behind us. I suspected they spoke a Germanic language, and later I realised it was Dutch. I had the opportunity to just make conversation, in their native language even, but I was afraid for some reason. "What do you have to lose?" my friend told me. Really, what do I have to lose except a few minutes of my life at most. And who knows what I have to gain (perhaps even if things had gone differently, I wouldn't be here right now typing this entry...)
My friend tells me to go live more, have fun, enjoy life. And he's been telling me that since I was twenty one, when I first met him. Not much has changed, at least as far as personality is concerned... I'm still very bashful, I'm still a bit conservative, perhaps even a hopeless romantic, when it comes to relationships and being with "the One". Sure I've had one or two relationship worth mentioning, but the last one ended up in shambles because I took too long to realise what I really had and was for a long time too afraid to commit and go admit to myself I love the person... And look at me now... Single, still dreaming of and longing for someone who seems to have just moved on as soon as I left the country (at least from what I know and hear). And friends laugh at me and ask me why I'm still so caught up in the memories of a short lived relationship with the ex, when he seemed so able to quickly break thins off with me to go after someone else.
Perhaps I should just loosen up, enjoy myself more, and not feel always so conflicted and constricted by my (self imposed) duties and obligations to others. Perhaps really I should just live life, prioritise my own happiness and wellbeing before everything else, because in the end, relying on others for happiness is being too dependent and most likely just ultimately brings disappointment. I mean I've been wanting to go out and meet people, even just for a chat and a coffee, but I haven't done it because I'm just too preoccupied with mum's situation and deteriorating health... I so much long to make new friends here in a "foreign" city where I know no one (besides relatives...), but a part of me thinks pulls me back and is afraid of what may happen... But what am I afraid of? Who am I even obligated to? I'm single, I'm free, I'm free to see whoever I want, do whatever with whomever I wish to... But I don't. I stay home, dreaming meeting the "true one", daydreaming about a life and future that exists only in my fantasies...
Just so silly, just so very typical of my horoscope! Must live life more, have more fun, instead of living in dreams!
100 days
Today marks the 100th day since my arrival back home.
It marks perhaps the longest time I have stayed in one place without any significant travel for a long long time.
Thought it was worth mentioning.
It marks perhaps the longest time I have stayed in one place without any significant travel for a long long time.
Thought it was worth mentioning.
04 April 2012
Dream
Mum's been in and out of sleep since the surgery, lost in that twilight of being half awake and semi-conscious. Most of the time, I just sit next to her and watch her, listen to her snore, and the silence is broken by the mechanical sound of the IV drip releasing periodic doses of drugs.
Suddenly, she spoke: "I dream of this..."
"What do you dream of...?" I asked, anxious. Does she have nightmares, like I do when I sleep? Does she dream of terrible things, of death, of terrible suffering and pain?
"Red carrot..." she said weakly.
I burst out laughing. "You want carrots? I'll get you some now!!"
"No..."
And she began snoring again.
Suddenly, she spoke: "I dream of this..."
"What do you dream of...?" I asked, anxious. Does she have nightmares, like I do when I sleep? Does she dream of terrible things, of death, of terrible suffering and pain?
"Red carrot..." she said weakly.
I burst out laughing. "You want carrots? I'll get you some now!!"
"No..."
And she began snoring again.
Visit
My friend started tearing as soon as we left mum's room together. I handed him a tissue and placed a hand on his back. He said he had struggled hard to contain his tears and to keep up a conversation with my mum. But seeing her like this, in the state she is now, was very painful, he said.
My friend has seen my mum on several occasions throughout the years, and in a way he saw in my mum a reflection of his own mother, who too was diagnosed with cancer several years back. He knows what it's like to see your own mother dramatically loose so much weight, he understands the heart-wrenching pain of seeing your own mother hanging on the edge, tittering so close to death...
He messaged me the day of the surgery to say he was coming to visit, but i was so distraught I did not reply immediately. Just as I was about to write to answer him, I got a phone call, announcing he somehow managed to find his way to my mum's ward and room. I was at home at the time, resting and doing some work (need to update and submit my thesis before the deadline next week...), but I rushes to the hospital and as soon I got there gave him a big, big hug. It's been such a long time. On the way there, I smiled to myself and was touched to tears that he had come all this way to see me. And it was not the first time, for when I lost my dad, he arrived within days to spend time with me. A true friend.
We've not seen one another for almost two years, but he avidly keeps up with my blog and so knows well what I'm going through. And it was later revealed he cut short a holiday in Japan to drop by Taiwan to check up on me, making me feel even more touched. I suspected when I got his message he was visiting that perhaps he was partly here on a recon mission commissioned by my ex. And I was right. Being unable to reach me, my ex has been going through various channels and contacting people I know to get ahold of news of me. I'm flattered and touched, but am a little unsure why he thinks of me so much. Could it be...?
My friend and I went out to dinner, and we caught up ours lives and chatted like old times. Much of the conversation initially focused on my mum, and I could see when I described her ordeal and what we went through in the past two months or so, his eyes turned red again. But we also laughed and talked about other things. We went back to the hospital, where I wanted to spend a little bit more time with mum and massage her sore arms and legs. She kept on telling me to go and enjoy myself, and reluctantly I did, and was glad that at least for this night I did not leave the hospital alone or with a heavy heart.
The carer who came to be with mum does a great job, and mum says she's very attentive and responds whenever she calls her, even in the middle of the night. I am somewhat relieved, for it takes a great weight on my shoulders, especially in this crucial period of time when mum cannot do much by herself and needs constant attention. The fact the carer is another woman helps a lot, for there are things that as a boy, and as her son, mum feels terribly embarrassed to have to ask me to help her with.
We went to a bar and drink a bit, first time in a long time when I took out time to relax, for normally I'd just head home and collapse from exhaustion. But with my friend here I was somehow energised and we kept on chatting and reminisced the past times when we traveled together or met up in the most random of places in the world. He stayed the night even, and we kept on chatting and watching videos till three in the morning...
And I had to get up again at six to be in time to see the doctors pay their morning visits!
Critical
Mum has been in and out of sleep ever since she left the recovery room yesterday afternoon. Except for a brief few minutes when she sat up on the edge of the bed to cough, she's been in bed for three days. The morphine drips to reduce her pain also induces sleep, and in the brief moments when she's awake you could she her eye lids are extremely heavy and threatening to close at any time.
The first 72 hours after surgery is critical and the nurse comes ins every hour to check her vital signs and watch out for signs of fever.
So far, she's been alright, with just a higher than normal body temperature, and she's still expelling a lot of fluids through the tube leading from her stomach. The doctors have increased her dosage of IV drips and added more nutritious formulas, but over the long run, if she cannot get up and move around, her limbs will get bloated...
The first 72 hours after surgery is critical and the nurse comes ins every hour to check her vital signs and watch out for signs of fever.
So far, she's been alright, with just a higher than normal body temperature, and she's still expelling a lot of fluids through the tube leading from her stomach. The doctors have increased her dosage of IV drips and added more nutritious formulas, but over the long run, if she cannot get up and move around, her limbs will get bloated...
Exhausted
Mum slept most of the day yesterday, and most of today. The surgery is exhausting, and the doctor said it's good for her to rest as much as possible. The intravenous painkiller, which slowly drips into her body, and the dosage of which can be increase at a touch of a button, not makes the pain from surgery more bearable, but also induces sleep and drowsiness. The 72hour period of observation is still not over, and mum's health is still fragile, despite the extra dose of IV nutrients they have been giving her since the day before the surgery.
I too am somehow very tired, even though I went home to sleep last night. It helped that there is a professional carer who can attend to mum's needs, so I can be less anxious and more assured. But even so, I slept badly and woke up a number of times. I came into hospital at seven in the morning, just to make sure I don't miss the doctor. As mum slept, I sat next to her and read, but I could not overcome sleepiness either...
Was the runup to surgery and the whole day yesterday really that exhausting, not just for mum, but also for me?
I too am somehow very tired, even though I went home to sleep last night. It helped that there is a professional carer who can attend to mum's needs, so I can be less anxious and more assured. But even so, I slept badly and woke up a number of times. I came into hospital at seven in the morning, just to make sure I don't miss the doctor. As mum slept, I sat next to her and read, but I could not overcome sleepiness either...
Was the runup to surgery and the whole day yesterday really that exhausting, not just for mum, but also for me?
03 April 2012
Dream
Another dream with my ex in it... For some reason I cannot explain, in my darkest moments filled with fear and anxiety, my mind drifts to him. But a part of me keeps on reminding myself: "He's moved on already! He's with someone else already! Forget about him! Remember what other people have told you!"
In the dream I was biking in the countryside, full of longing to go to this cabin. I suspect it's the same place where my ex and I, for two years in a row, biked to for charity. When I got there there were a lot of people, all bikers, all new faces, some of them very good looking and were trying to make conversation with me. But I was not really interested. All I thought of and asked for was my ex. Full of expectations and longing, I waited and waited for him for a while.
He showed up at one point. We spoke. I was so glad to see him. But he was cool and distant. I asked him what's wrong.
"I told you, I have someone already! Move on!" And he disappeared and left me standing there...
In the dream I was biking in the countryside, full of longing to go to this cabin. I suspect it's the same place where my ex and I, for two years in a row, biked to for charity. When I got there there were a lot of people, all bikers, all new faces, some of them very good looking and were trying to make conversation with me. But I was not really interested. All I thought of and asked for was my ex. Full of expectations and longing, I waited and waited for him for a while.
He showed up at one point. We spoke. I was so glad to see him. But he was cool and distant. I asked him what's wrong.
"I told you, I have someone already! Move on!" And he disappeared and left me standing there...
Back in Room 1
"Rest more," I said, "It's finished now..." I meant the torturous waiting, the unknown and the anxieties associated with a risky operation. It's all finished now, as far as now is concerned.
I don't know the outcome of the surgery, I don't know whether she is able to eat again, I don't know how bad the situation is inside. But all that news can wait. At least mum is conscious, at least mum is still clear minded, and she can still move and speak, though with difficulty due to the pain. But it's all finished (for?) now.
"It's been hard on you", mum said. Her eyelids were heavy, her face was tired looking, but there was a hint of renewed hope. Hope we've not had or felt in a long time.
I stroked her leg gently and massaged her fingers. "No, it wasn't... It has been much harder for you".
I don't know the outcome of the surgery, I don't know whether she is able to eat again, I don't know how bad the situation is inside. But all that news can wait. At least mum is conscious, at least mum is still clear minded, and she can still move and speak, though with difficulty due to the pain. But it's all finished (for?) now.
"It's been hard on you", mum said. Her eyelids were heavy, her face was tired looking, but there was a hint of renewed hope. Hope we've not had or felt in a long time.
I stroked her leg gently and massaged her fingers. "No, it wasn't... It has been much harder for you".
02 April 2012
Life and death park
I came here last time with a friend who was visiting her ill grandmother. She knew that her dear grandmother did not have much more time left...
We sat on a bench in the corner of the "Life and Death Park", where there are various sculptures and art pieces dealing with life, farewell, bereavement and continuing life again. We sat here for a while until the mosquitoes chased us away.
She and I share similar experiences, for her mum also had colon cancer. She quit her studies for a year or so to be with her mum. I was grateful she shared her story with me, for I know how painful it must be to recount the final moments together with and the tragic loss of the dearest person in this world. I cannot begin to imagine how or whether I will be able to recount my story once the chapter of my life with mum in it has come to an end...
It was oppressive sitting in the waiting hall and watching the big display board flash mum's name every few minutes. She went in at 8.00, and so far, she's still in surgery. I felt my hands tremble, I felt my mind go wild with thoughts, I felt my eyes threatening to burst into tears. The waiting is torturous. The waiting is so hard, perhaps harder, to bear alone... But i was/ am not alone in that waiting area, for I am surrounded by dozens of relatives and family of other patients, who I can imagine are just as if not more anxious and scared as I am. As the saying goes here, the waiting and the uncertainty feels like you are "carrying your heart and your spleen is being hung" (提心吊膽)...
I accompanied mum down to the preparation room at 7.26. An orderly helped her onto a smaller bed, and mum was covered with a large quilt of that familiar green colour the medical staff wear in the operating room. Throughout the journey down to the third floor, the operating area, mum closed her eyes. I snuck my hand under the quilt and held onto her hand. Held onto her hand like I've never done before, like I've only done with my ex... Held onto her hand tightly and forcefully and yet gently to let her know that no matter what, I am right here, right here by her side. She went through two operations before, once in 2006 and once at the end of last year. I was not there either times. But I am here now, holding her hand.
Mum did not say much. At one point, while waiting in the area before being sent to the "secure" (contamination free) area, she opened her eyes and said: "Don't worry, the heavens will protect us. You let go of your heart (放心), a saying meaning do not worry.
I looked at her held her hand even tighter.
Mum was the last to be admitted into the operating area, where there are a total of 25 operating rooms. She was assigned room 23. They somehow managed to lose the signed copy of the consent form for anaesthesia (not a promising start...) and I had to sign another there and then. When we entered the area at almost a quarter to eight, it was so hectic, with nurses and doctors running around and shouting abbreviations and commands like it was the stock exchange. At the end, it was just mum and I, and a few assistants left.
They transferred her onto a ramp, for I imagine the hospital beds could not go into the contamination-free zone. The ramp was like a conveyor belt that separated the two zones, and on the other side, separated by a glass window that automatically slides up and down, a number of nurses and assistants clad completely in green received mum. Just before they took her, I held onto her hand tightly again, and kissed her on the forehead.
"Good luck! I'll be right here..." Mum replied with a nod and a faint smile.
"Relax, relax, stretch out your legs..." one of the assistants said to mum and straightened her legs, which where mangled together in a twist. I think she must have been afraid, even though earlier when I asked her whether she was afraid, she said there was nothing to be afraid of, and we have to deal with everything with equanimity.
"Sir, I'll have to ask you to leave and wait in the waiting area outside..."
"Just another minute. I want to see..." I said as I pointed to mum, who was being slowly transported into the "secure" area on the thin trolley. Were it not for her head showing, it somehow reminded me of a body being taken to the morgue. I wanted to tap on the window to get mum's attention. I willed that she would turn her head a bit and look back, but she did not. I watched took one last look before mum her two chaperones clad in green turned a corner and vanished from sight.
I left, and was the last relative to leave the room.
We sat on a bench in the corner of the "Life and Death Park", where there are various sculptures and art pieces dealing with life, farewell, bereavement and continuing life again. We sat here for a while until the mosquitoes chased us away.She and I share similar experiences, for her mum also had colon cancer. She quit her studies for a year or so to be with her mum. I was grateful she shared her story with me, for I know how painful it must be to recount the final moments together with and the tragic loss of the dearest person in this world. I cannot begin to imagine how or whether I will be able to recount my story once the chapter of my life with mum in it has come to an end...
It was oppressive sitting in the waiting hall and watching the big display board flash mum's name every few minutes. She went in at 8.00, and so far, she's still in surgery. I felt my hands tremble, I felt my mind go wild with thoughts, I felt my eyes threatening to burst into tears. The waiting is torturous. The waiting is so hard, perhaps harder, to bear alone... But i was/ am not alone in that waiting area, for I am surrounded by dozens of relatives and family of other patients, who I can imagine are just as if not more anxious and scared as I am. As the saying goes here, the waiting and the uncertainty feels like you are "carrying your heart and your spleen is being hung" (提心吊膽)...
I accompanied mum down to the preparation room at 7.26. An orderly helped her onto a smaller bed, and mum was covered with a large quilt of that familiar green colour the medical staff wear in the operating room. Throughout the journey down to the third floor, the operating area, mum closed her eyes. I snuck my hand under the quilt and held onto her hand. Held onto her hand like I've never done before, like I've only done with my ex... Held onto her hand tightly and forcefully and yet gently to let her know that no matter what, I am right here, right here by her side. She went through two operations before, once in 2006 and once at the end of last year. I was not there either times. But I am here now, holding her hand.
Mum did not say much. At one point, while waiting in the area before being sent to the "secure" (contamination free) area, she opened her eyes and said: "Don't worry, the heavens will protect us. You let go of your heart (放心), a saying meaning do not worry.
I looked at her held her hand even tighter.
Mum was the last to be admitted into the operating area, where there are a total of 25 operating rooms. She was assigned room 23. They somehow managed to lose the signed copy of the consent form for anaesthesia (not a promising start...) and I had to sign another there and then. When we entered the area at almost a quarter to eight, it was so hectic, with nurses and doctors running around and shouting abbreviations and commands like it was the stock exchange. At the end, it was just mum and I, and a few assistants left.
They transferred her onto a ramp, for I imagine the hospital beds could not go into the contamination-free zone. The ramp was like a conveyor belt that separated the two zones, and on the other side, separated by a glass window that automatically slides up and down, a number of nurses and assistants clad completely in green received mum. Just before they took her, I held onto her hand tightly again, and kissed her on the forehead."Good luck! I'll be right here..." Mum replied with a nod and a faint smile.
"Relax, relax, stretch out your legs..." one of the assistants said to mum and straightened her legs, which where mangled together in a twist. I think she must have been afraid, even though earlier when I asked her whether she was afraid, she said there was nothing to be afraid of, and we have to deal with everything with equanimity.
"Sir, I'll have to ask you to leave and wait in the waiting area outside..."
"Just another minute. I want to see..." I said as I pointed to mum, who was being slowly transported into the "secure" area on the thin trolley. Were it not for her head showing, it somehow reminded me of a body being taken to the morgue. I wanted to tap on the window to get mum's attention. I willed that she would turn her head a bit and look back, but she did not. I watched took one last look before mum her two chaperones clad in green turned a corner and vanished from sight.
I left, and was the last relative to leave the room.
Dream
After mum was wheeled into the operating room, I went up to her room to take a nap. I suddenly felt so very, very tired...
I was at the waiting area, I was not alone but with two of my cousins (from dad's side of the family). I was just sitting there waiting, playing with a piece of paper or something.
Suddenly I got up and went to the area where there is a big display board. The name of the patient being operated, what illness, the status of the patient were all displayed on there. (in the real world, there is such a display board, but it shows only the name (partly blanked out) and status of the patient: currently in operation or in recovery room).
In the dream, I saw mum's name. Behind her name in big flashing red letters, "BYPASS SURGERY", "FAILURE", "PATIENT DECEASED".
My heart tore into a thousand pieces, I broke down there and then and began howling, inconsolably howling and crying. So much pain, so much tears! My cousins rushed to hug me, but they could not touch me, for I shrugged them off and was beyond comforting. Mum was gone, and I didn't even say goodbye...
Such powerful emotions...
I woke up in a sweat.
I was at the waiting area, I was not alone but with two of my cousins (from dad's side of the family). I was just sitting there waiting, playing with a piece of paper or something.
Suddenly I got up and went to the area where there is a big display board. The name of the patient being operated, what illness, the status of the patient were all displayed on there. (in the real world, there is such a display board, but it shows only the name (partly blanked out) and status of the patient: currently in operation or in recovery room).
In the dream, I saw mum's name. Behind her name in big flashing red letters, "BYPASS SURGERY", "FAILURE", "PATIENT DECEASED".
My heart tore into a thousand pieces, I broke down there and then and began howling, inconsolably howling and crying. So much pain, so much tears! My cousins rushed to hug me, but they could not touch me, for I shrugged them off and was beyond comforting. Mum was gone, and I didn't even say goodbye...
Such powerful emotions...
I woke up in a sweat.
Skype session
There were many moments when brother just looked at mum, and mum looked at brother. No words were said. Mum was still sleepy, very drowsy and tired, while brother was about to go to sleep. It's midnight in europe, and he looked tired. A couple of times, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
"Mama, you have to be strong..." brother said. That was as much as he said, and he said it several times. Again, I could feel the awkwardness, for I'm sure deep down he wanted to say much more, but he could not find the words. But I know deep down there is a heart that is racing, a mind that is frightened, and a boy longing to be at his mother's side...
"Don't worry," I said, "I'll be by her side". Brother reminded me again and again to call if there is anything.
"My mobile is on, my Skype is on. Call anytime you need to, just let me know how things go." there was a moment when it was just my brother and I speaking. He asked if I had contacted our second uncle (mum's second brother). "You know, in case something happens..."
"I know," I said, "It's been arranged. He knows."
Quarter to seven. Reluctantly, my brother hung up Skype. Mum was getting a bit irritated, and she needed to get dressed for surgery. I believe she did not sleep well, for she was a bit moody, and looked so very tired... I was disappointed, for I had hoped they would connect a bit more, perhaps say some touching things. But mum seemed to want to get back to lying down and resting.
For a few moments I massaged mum's legs, feet, arms and hands, and rubbed her back. She closed her eyes and had an expression of bliss on her face. I grabbed the family portrait I had brought with me, and places it in front of her. She took the portrait and looked at it for several minutes, studying every detail, studying our family... In the background, soothing yoga music played.
"Relax, let the doctors do their jobs. They know what they are doing, so just let go and relax..." I said. I read in a book recently that you should remind the patient to relax and ease the body, so that the muscles are not as tense and the body will be more receptive to an invasive procedure. It will make it easier for the bleeding to stop, for the body will let it's guard down, instead of resist surgical intervention and make it harder to heal.
"The deities are with us... I will recall the Bodhisattva of Mercy. And all you do for me, it's enough to make the heavens give us blessings..." mum said.
I hope so, I really do hope so.
"Mama, you have to be strong..." brother said. That was as much as he said, and he said it several times. Again, I could feel the awkwardness, for I'm sure deep down he wanted to say much more, but he could not find the words. But I know deep down there is a heart that is racing, a mind that is frightened, and a boy longing to be at his mother's side...
"Don't worry," I said, "I'll be by her side". Brother reminded me again and again to call if there is anything.
"My mobile is on, my Skype is on. Call anytime you need to, just let me know how things go." there was a moment when it was just my brother and I speaking. He asked if I had contacted our second uncle (mum's second brother). "You know, in case something happens..."
"I know," I said, "It's been arranged. He knows."
Quarter to seven. Reluctantly, my brother hung up Skype. Mum was getting a bit irritated, and she needed to get dressed for surgery. I believe she did not sleep well, for she was a bit moody, and looked so very tired... I was disappointed, for I had hoped they would connect a bit more, perhaps say some touching things. But mum seemed to want to get back to lying down and resting.
For a few moments I massaged mum's legs, feet, arms and hands, and rubbed her back. She closed her eyes and had an expression of bliss on her face. I grabbed the family portrait I had brought with me, and places it in front of her. She took the portrait and looked at it for several minutes, studying every detail, studying our family... In the background, soothing yoga music played.
"Relax, let the doctors do their jobs. They know what they are doing, so just let go and relax..." I said. I read in a book recently that you should remind the patient to relax and ease the body, so that the muscles are not as tense and the body will be more receptive to an invasive procedure. It will make it easier for the bleeding to stop, for the body will let it's guard down, instead of resist surgical intervention and make it harder to heal.
"The deities are with us... I will recall the Bodhisattva of Mercy. And all you do for me, it's enough to make the heavens give us blessings..." mum said.
I hope so, I really do hope so.
Three hours countdown
I suddenly heard mum groan. It was just after four in the morning. She twisted and turned in bed, and was unresponsive to my questions to her. "What's wrong? Mum, tell me what's wrong...?"
"I can't say..." Something was bothering her, but she couldn't (or didn't want to) say what it was. Was it a nightmare? Was it her sore arms or legs that are keeping her from sleeping? Was it "something else" bothering her (yes, I mean the supernatural...)? She just lay there, writhed her body in apparent discomfort. Her legs were so thin and twisted in a mangle like the plastic tubes coming put of the artery in her neck.
I did what I could think of to calm my down... I massaged her arms, her legs, her feet, her hands... With each rub, each stroke, each pull and push motion, I silently wished my touch would take away whatever was bothering mum. I massaged her with love, with the love of a child, with the devotion and dedication of a child who wishes nothing more than to calm his mother's mind and spirit a few hours before a major operation-- an operation which could very well determine mum's fate and course of life...
I can only imagine, only just imagine and even that is not close enough to what she must be feeling, what she must be thinking of fearing... The heat packs I prepared for her I placed under her shoulder blades. And suddenly, in a rare moment of clarity, mum opened her eyes. "Thank you... Thank you for everything..."
"I can't say..." Something was bothering her, but she couldn't (or didn't want to) say what it was. Was it a nightmare? Was it her sore arms or legs that are keeping her from sleeping? Was it "something else" bothering her (yes, I mean the supernatural...)? She just lay there, writhed her body in apparent discomfort. Her legs were so thin and twisted in a mangle like the plastic tubes coming put of the artery in her neck.
I did what I could think of to calm my down... I massaged her arms, her legs, her feet, her hands... With each rub, each stroke, each pull and push motion, I silently wished my touch would take away whatever was bothering mum. I massaged her with love, with the love of a child, with the devotion and dedication of a child who wishes nothing more than to calm his mother's mind and spirit a few hours before a major operation-- an operation which could very well determine mum's fate and course of life...
I can only imagine, only just imagine and even that is not close enough to what she must be feeling, what she must be thinking of fearing... The heat packs I prepared for her I placed under her shoulder blades. And suddenly, in a rare moment of clarity, mum opened her eyes. "Thank you... Thank you for everything..."
Eve of the surgery
I got home, and knelt before dad's portrait. "Please dad, protect mum and help her surgery to go smoothly tomorrow... May she eat and drink away, may she at least enjoy some of the privileges of living by being able to taste, to digest food naturally... May she have strength again and may she have the health to live a life of happiness..." I knelt on the floor, and kowtowed with great reverence. Tears were on the rim of my eyes. It was a touching moment of just me and dad, and my prayers...
I also prayed before the little shrine mum has set up in the dining/living room area. A thought came to me out of nowhere, again the random imagination of a naive child who daydreams in order to escape from reality at times. I thought to my self and asked the deity: " if I have accumulated any good merit points in all my life, I would cash it all in and direct all the positive karma to mum in the hope that the surgery will go well, and that she will be free from her problem of not being able to eat or drink. Take my good fortunes away, take anything from me, just let mum come out alright..."
Before I left home, I did the second thing I went home to do. I grabbed the most recent family portrait, of me on the left, brother in the middle, and his wife on the right. In the foreground is mum sitting down and holding my little nephew. Our first family portrait together. "We are family..." I once commented it the portrait. We are family, and we can grow strong, be strong together, no matter what. I took that portrait, and it is now standing at an angle where mum can see from her lying down position.
Anything, anything, absolutely anything to keep the hopes up, to keep the spirit afloat and mind at ease. As I headed back to the hospital, I sat quietly in the taxi. The scenery outside was a complete blur. All I could see and imagine were scenes of "this time tomorrow"... Will mum be conscious? Will she be in the intensive care unit? Will the procedure have gone as planned? Will the doctor come out and say to me "I'm sorry, we did the best we could..."? I was again so afraid; so anxious, such a nervous wreck...
Pray, pray, pray...
Agreement
"... The whole body anaesthesia may cause stroke, heart attack, and she may go into shock. In her state of health, there is a high risk..." the anaesthetist explained.
"What is the probability?" My mind raced with images of mum lying there connected to a life support machine. I could hear the beeping sound of her life... I could see mum lying there unconscious, all life draining from her body... Fear, such fears!
"Five percent."
Whatever the probability, we must proceed, for it is mum's wish. There is a line handwritten by the surgeon himself "If the blockage is too severe, there is the likelihood the bypass cannot be proceeded with". That line sent fear up my spine, and for a while after reading that I felt such dread, such terrible dread... What if the surgery fails? What then?
It is mum's wish to put her life ad condition in the hands of the doctors. Buy I have to sign the consent forms. Again it feels like such a heavy, heavy responsibility.
May it be that I just signed a sentence to give mum a renewed chance at life again...
A life where she can eat again, drink again, and a chance to recover some of how lost health so she can live her days happy and free from too much pain and suffering...
"What is the probability?" My mind raced with images of mum lying there connected to a life support machine. I could hear the beeping sound of her life... I could see mum lying there unconscious, all life draining from her body... Fear, such fears!
"Five percent."
Whatever the probability, we must proceed, for it is mum's wish. There is a line handwritten by the surgeon himself "If the blockage is too severe, there is the likelihood the bypass cannot be proceeded with". That line sent fear up my spine, and for a while after reading that I felt such dread, such terrible dread... What if the surgery fails? What then?
It is mum's wish to put her life ad condition in the hands of the doctors. Buy I have to sign the consent forms. Again it feels like such a heavy, heavy responsibility.
May it be that I just signed a sentence to give mum a renewed chance at life again...
A life where she can eat again, drink again, and a chance to recover some of how lost health so she can live her days happy and free from too much pain and suffering...
Skyping with grandchild
"A-ma, good luck! Good luck! I'm cheering for A-ma!" my brother said in a baby's voice. My nephew was in his arms and smiling at the video cam. I looked at mum, and she smiled. Her eyes shimmered.
Brother could only see mum lie there, weakly, lethargically. He could also see tubes now coming out of her beck, and a big two litre bag of extra nutrients the doctor prescribed for her in preparation for the surgery. For several moments, he was silent. For several moments he rubbed his eyes. What do you say... What do you say to your mother when in a few hours' time she'll be wheeled into the operation room?
I did not tell my brother about the risks. They worry me, but they are more disclaimers to ward off liability issue just in the slightest chance something terrible should go wrong... But even a slight chance is a chance, and I do not need to worry my brother unnecessarily.
"A-ma, be strong! A-ma, good luck!" my "nephew" said. It was as if through my nephew, his dad could best express his words of encouragement and love and not feel so awkward. It's a shame we grew up in a culture in which we are not so open about our feelings, and in which we find it hard to put into words sentiments like "I love you..." But we all know those sentiments are there, even if expressed through the voice of a baby.
Mum smiled and smiled. She said very little, and mostly watched her grandchild wiggle and giggle, wriggle and throw his arms around as his dad tried to hold him steady in front of the camera.
Perhaps she was thinking: "I want to see you again... I want to hold you again..." Such longings and wishes can carry someone far, far and gather the strength needed to overcome even the most challenging of obstacles.
Brother could only see mum lie there, weakly, lethargically. He could also see tubes now coming out of her beck, and a big two litre bag of extra nutrients the doctor prescribed for her in preparation for the surgery. For several moments, he was silent. For several moments he rubbed his eyes. What do you say... What do you say to your mother when in a few hours' time she'll be wheeled into the operation room?
I did not tell my brother about the risks. They worry me, but they are more disclaimers to ward off liability issue just in the slightest chance something terrible should go wrong... But even a slight chance is a chance, and I do not need to worry my brother unnecessarily.
"A-ma, be strong! A-ma, good luck!" my "nephew" said. It was as if through my nephew, his dad could best express his words of encouragement and love and not feel so awkward. It's a shame we grew up in a culture in which we are not so open about our feelings, and in which we find it hard to put into words sentiments like "I love you..." But we all know those sentiments are there, even if expressed through the voice of a baby.
Mum smiled and smiled. She said very little, and mostly watched her grandchild wiggle and giggle, wriggle and throw his arms around as his dad tried to hold him steady in front of the camera.
Perhaps she was thinking: "I want to see you again... I want to hold you again..." Such longings and wishes can carry someone far, far and gather the strength needed to overcome even the most challenging of obstacles.
Call
Unexpectedly, the phone rang. I did not recognise the voice, but the lady asked for me. She said she was the social worker at Hope, the foundation for cancer welfare.
She called to see how I am doing. With a lot of attention focused on my mum, rarely do people as how I am doing. I almost cried when she asked. I forced a smile, said "I'm coping". She could hear it was a forced smiled.
"You have to eat well and sleep well. I know it's hard."
I told her about my dreams, about how I do eat, but more out of necessity than anything else. I haven't lost too much weight in the past three months, but people say I have grown thinner, visibly bonier. I know I am at the limits of my patients, I am being tested and driven to the limits of my mental and physical tolerance. Perhaps it is a good thing that I notice it, for otherwise, I might just press on and on and on and suddenly without realising it, break down. If I notice that I am frustrated, troubled, fearing even in my sleep, then I can do something about it; at least I can warn myself, warm my body and my mind, to beware, to take things easier.
It is so much harder when there is nobody at my side with whom I could talk to... There is really nobody here I am close to, with whom I can turn to and pour my frustrations and fears out.
"You have to take care of yourself, or otherwise how can you take care of your mother?" the lady kindly said. She's probably seen plenty of cases of "carer fatigue"-- situations when a carer becomes so overwhelmed s/he becomes overly burdened, depressed, angry, or perhaps even suicidal and loses interest and hope in everything. Absolutely everything.
I am getting help, for a carer is coming tonight to help out just before the operation tomorrow early in the morning. And in less than two weeks, brother and his family (the "European Support Group") are scheduled to return. I am hoping, unlike last time, they will provide some relief and allow me time off so I can go off on my own. I need it. I desperately need time on my own.
"Thank you for calling and being so concerned," I said.
"Don't thank me. I really am concerned..." she answered.
That was touching, for though we have only met and spoken twice, she could see I am struggling. Struggling from day to day, struggling to find rarer occasions to be on my own, struggling to come to terms with all the invasive treatments that seem only to make my mum ever weaker, and ever weaker...
She called to see how I am doing. With a lot of attention focused on my mum, rarely do people as how I am doing. I almost cried when she asked. I forced a smile, said "I'm coping". She could hear it was a forced smiled.
"You have to eat well and sleep well. I know it's hard."
I told her about my dreams, about how I do eat, but more out of necessity than anything else. I haven't lost too much weight in the past three months, but people say I have grown thinner, visibly bonier. I know I am at the limits of my patients, I am being tested and driven to the limits of my mental and physical tolerance. Perhaps it is a good thing that I notice it, for otherwise, I might just press on and on and on and suddenly without realising it, break down. If I notice that I am frustrated, troubled, fearing even in my sleep, then I can do something about it; at least I can warn myself, warm my body and my mind, to beware, to take things easier.
It is so much harder when there is nobody at my side with whom I could talk to... There is really nobody here I am close to, with whom I can turn to and pour my frustrations and fears out.
"You have to take care of yourself, or otherwise how can you take care of your mother?" the lady kindly said. She's probably seen plenty of cases of "carer fatigue"-- situations when a carer becomes so overwhelmed s/he becomes overly burdened, depressed, angry, or perhaps even suicidal and loses interest and hope in everything. Absolutely everything.
I am getting help, for a carer is coming tonight to help out just before the operation tomorrow early in the morning. And in less than two weeks, brother and his family (the "European Support Group") are scheduled to return. I am hoping, unlike last time, they will provide some relief and allow me time off so I can go off on my own. I need it. I desperately need time on my own.
"Thank you for calling and being so concerned," I said.
"Don't thank me. I really am concerned..." she answered.
That was touching, for though we have only met and spoken twice, she could see I am struggling. Struggling from day to day, struggling to find rarer occasions to be on my own, struggling to come to terms with all the invasive treatments that seem only to make my mum ever weaker, and ever weaker...
Pre-surgery preparation
The nurse showed us a video explaining the procedure and what the patient and the relatives have to be aware of before and after the surgery.
Mum says she's seen it before, back in December when she had her last surgery. A lot of the information I know from practice, after I returned and was suddenly thrown into the "deep end" of taking care of mum.
Breathing exercises, getting out of bed, exercises of the limbs, lung expansion exercises, phloem extraction, etc, etc... To think, just three months ago, mum went through all this, and how wrong I was then to think that that would be the last major procedure mum has to go through...
I suddenly have these pangs of fear, exacerbated when I look at mum and see how sickly she is. She is so thin, so frail, in a lot of discomfort. It really pains my heart, really wrenches my soul seeing mum like this, and knowing that this time tomorrow she'll most likely be in the operation room...
I am so afraid... Never have I felt such levels of anxiety, and tomorrow I will know what it feels like to be waiting outside the operation room, to wait and wait and wait and wonder what is happening, wonder if mum is still ok, if mum is still with us... But the doctors know what they are doing, I must trust them and have faith in their professionalism. All I need to do is sign the agreement to proceed.
I will be all alone tomorrow... All alone while I wait and wait.
Mum says she's seen it before, back in December when she had her last surgery. A lot of the information I know from practice, after I returned and was suddenly thrown into the "deep end" of taking care of mum.
Breathing exercises, getting out of bed, exercises of the limbs, lung expansion exercises, phloem extraction, etc, etc... To think, just three months ago, mum went through all this, and how wrong I was then to think that that would be the last major procedure mum has to go through...
I suddenly have these pangs of fear, exacerbated when I look at mum and see how sickly she is. She is so thin, so frail, in a lot of discomfort. It really pains my heart, really wrenches my soul seeing mum like this, and knowing that this time tomorrow she'll most likely be in the operation room...
I am so afraid... Never have I felt such levels of anxiety, and tomorrow I will know what it feels like to be waiting outside the operation room, to wait and wait and wait and wonder what is happening, wonder if mum is still ok, if mum is still with us... But the doctors know what they are doing, I must trust them and have faith in their professionalism. All I need to do is sign the agreement to proceed.
I will be all alone tomorrow... All alone while I wait and wait.
01 April 2012
CVC and TPN
The doctor suddenly came in and presented us with the fact that mum's nutritional intake may not be enough for the impending surgery. He recommends the placement of a CVC (central venous catheter) in order to conduct TPN (total parenteral nutrition), which is reserved for patients who cannot take in food the "normal" way.
He came back with a nurse, and right there, on her bed, injected a massive needle into a vein on the side of mum's neck. Some local anesthesia was administered, but still it does not completely remove the pain that lingers on. This is all in preparation for the intestinal bypass surgery, planned for tomorrow.
Already, mum has a tube sticking out of her nostril, two tubes going into her port vein, and now two more places on the neck where tubes can be connected to. It's not a pretty sight, and again the question that arises: what are they doing to her? Is she soon going to be free from all these tubes and invasive treatments...? Will any of this work to "treat" her inability to ingest food and even water, or are all these procedures just prolonging her pain and suffering?
Mum is lying there, now even more lethargic and perhaps in even more pain than before. And it is so difficult, so very difficult to bear...
PS: something I read on Wikipedia (the most reliable source of information, I know...) worried me:
He came back with a nurse, and right there, on her bed, injected a massive needle into a vein on the side of mum's neck. Some local anesthesia was administered, but still it does not completely remove the pain that lingers on. This is all in preparation for the intestinal bypass surgery, planned for tomorrow.
Already, mum has a tube sticking out of her nostril, two tubes going into her port vein, and now two more places on the neck where tubes can be connected to. It's not a pretty sight, and again the question that arises: what are they doing to her? Is she soon going to be free from all these tubes and invasive treatments...? Will any of this work to "treat" her inability to ingest food and even water, or are all these procedures just prolonging her pain and suffering?
Mum is lying there, now even more lethargic and perhaps in even more pain than before. And it is so difficult, so very difficult to bear...
PS: something I read on Wikipedia (the most reliable source of information, I know...) worried me:
There is no evidence to support the idea that intravenous nutrition 'feeds the cancer, not the patient', but weight loss with advanced disease is significantly more complicated than simply replacing calories as cancer produces a multitude of chemicals that also lead to weight loss, and giving extra nutrition does not prevent this.
Killing her softly
Am I really so evil, as mum implies, and do I really want to just send her to the hospice and let her die there...?
Another eruption this morning, as mum was moody and so was I. She kept on telling me go get a carer, which I have already asked for yesterday. But since it's a big holiday coming up (Tomb Sweeping Festival) a lot of people are off and it's hard to find someone. I think she's getting irritated because I'm around most of the time. She worries that i might get too tired, but what else can i do? Now there's only me, and noone else. I'm just waiting for a call from the agency to send someone over.
Perhaps it's me who's getting irritated and frustrated of all this waiting and just seeing her get thinner and weaker, surviving only on IV drips. But really when we're together, except for music or the tv in the background, there's very little talking. I can only watch her lie there, seemingly in a lot of discomfort, and yet when I ask her what's wrong, often she doesn't say anything...
Am I doing something wrong? I'm just here standing by to do something if she needs me to. What is wrong then?
Again she said I just want to send her to the hospice and let her die. But I never said that. Why would I even want that? How terrible that would be! She said she wants to five the bypass surgery a try and that she has faith in the doctors. After she said that, I stopped raising issues about risks and about the surgery being too risky in her state of health. It's not for me to assess, but for the doctors to know what to do best and what the risks are. I can only stand by, and with what rudimentary knowledge o have of medicine, let mum know what the doctors told me and what I fear are the likely consequences...
How painful it feels to be so misunderstood...! Is the problem really me, me being stubborn and too conservative about taking risks? It's painful to see mum get so upset... I'm just trying to do my best, but she seems to think I wish her to die quickly and die a painful, slow death from starvation...
Another eruption this morning, as mum was moody and so was I. She kept on telling me go get a carer, which I have already asked for yesterday. But since it's a big holiday coming up (Tomb Sweeping Festival) a lot of people are off and it's hard to find someone. I think she's getting irritated because I'm around most of the time. She worries that i might get too tired, but what else can i do? Now there's only me, and noone else. I'm just waiting for a call from the agency to send someone over.
Perhaps it's me who's getting irritated and frustrated of all this waiting and just seeing her get thinner and weaker, surviving only on IV drips. But really when we're together, except for music or the tv in the background, there's very little talking. I can only watch her lie there, seemingly in a lot of discomfort, and yet when I ask her what's wrong, often she doesn't say anything...
Am I doing something wrong? I'm just here standing by to do something if she needs me to. What is wrong then?
Again she said I just want to send her to the hospice and let her die. But I never said that. Why would I even want that? How terrible that would be! She said she wants to five the bypass surgery a try and that she has faith in the doctors. After she said that, I stopped raising issues about risks and about the surgery being too risky in her state of health. It's not for me to assess, but for the doctors to know what to do best and what the risks are. I can only stand by, and with what rudimentary knowledge o have of medicine, let mum know what the doctors told me and what I fear are the likely consequences...
How painful it feels to be so misunderstood...! Is the problem really me, me being stubborn and too conservative about taking risks? It's painful to see mum get so upset... I'm just trying to do my best, but she seems to think I wish her to die quickly and die a painful, slow death from starvation...
Counselling
The lady in the next bed has Stage III colon cancer. She cannot sleep at night, is often restless, and every night I can hear her quietly weep and moan in pain and frustration.
she just had
Bleeding
Mum has had the NJ tube inserted for three days now. Vomiting has at least ceased, though she still cannot eat, not even tube feeding as the doctors had intended. They can extract stomach fluids, which cannot escape naturally the "other" way. Normally, those juices get absorbed in the intestines and are filtered by the kidneys. But since the blockage in the intestines has become more severe, there is less fluids going into the kidneys, and more collecting in the stomach. Everyday, at least 1.5l of stomach liquids are drained out of her into a collecting tank...
Today, the tank drew visibly browner liquids, almost reminiscent of dried blood. I was worried and the nurse and resident doctor also noticed the noticeable difference in colour and the quantity of liquids drained. they gave her more bags of chloride solutions than before (up to six bags of 500ml compared to three bags in days...). A blood test revealed a deficiency in vital minerals, and a test on a sample of the stomach fluids revealed traces of blood.
The nurse say it may be from an ulcer, and that is causing mum to bleed. The suction from the vacuum pump draining fluids from her stomach may also be a cause of bleeding.
They have since stopped the draining of stomach liquids, but it may mean mum will start vomiting again...
Another complication and another issue to deal with...
Today, the tank drew visibly browner liquids, almost reminiscent of dried blood. I was worried and the nurse and resident doctor also noticed the noticeable difference in colour and the quantity of liquids drained. they gave her more bags of chloride solutions than before (up to six bags of 500ml compared to three bags in days...). A blood test revealed a deficiency in vital minerals, and a test on a sample of the stomach fluids revealed traces of blood.
The nurse say it may be from an ulcer, and that is causing mum to bleed. The suction from the vacuum pump draining fluids from her stomach may also be a cause of bleeding.
They have since stopped the draining of stomach liquids, but it may mean mum will start vomiting again...
Another complication and another issue to deal with...
Wish...
Perhaps in your darkest moments, in moments when you are lost and confused, you daydream... Daydream a lot.
I don't know why, sometimes when I am sitting and eating alone, or even when I am sitting next to mum as she sleeps, I dream someone suddenly calling my name. Again and again, the voice, a male and familiar voice calls my name until I turn around and see a familiar face. And my heart will suddenly race with the injection of a sudden boost of adrenaline and longing...
Will I break down and cry? Will I rush to hug him, touch his body and collapse into his embrace? I daydream and smile at the imagination conjured up in my head.
Whatever I do, it is all in my head...
I don't know why, sometimes when I am sitting and eating alone, or even when I am sitting next to mum as she sleeps, I dream someone suddenly calling my name. Again and again, the voice, a male and familiar voice calls my name until I turn around and see a familiar face. And my heart will suddenly race with the injection of a sudden boost of adrenaline and longing...
Will I break down and cry? Will I rush to hug him, touch his body and collapse into his embrace? I daydream and smile at the imagination conjured up in my head.
Whatever I do, it is all in my head...
Love is easy
"You say you love him, but you have tears in your eyes, your mind and emotions are exhausted.
If a relationship requires great energy in order to maintain it, even to the extent that you empty out your heart, then this relationship must be wrong.
Darling, to love someone should not be so tiring.
Love should be able to lift you upwards, take you flying, allow you to feel light and easy, and feel free, and not drag you downwards."
If a relationship requires great energy in order to maintain it, even to the extent that you empty out your heart, then this relationship must be wrong.
Darling, to love someone should not be so tiring.
Love should be able to lift you upwards, take you flying, allow you to feel light and easy, and feel free, and not drag you downwards."
Memories
There are few people mum sees nowadays. Besides her siblings, there is her cousin and a friend of hers who visit mum once or twice a month.
With her cousin and this friend, mum has traveled to Europe on no less than three separate occasions. Together, they have common memories of riding the Glacier Express in Switzerland, of visiting the village where van Gogh painted in Southern France (2004), of exploring the fjords of Norway, of taking the Flying Scotsman to the Scottish Highlands (2003), of exploring the French Riviera, of playing slot machines in Monte Carlo, of watching the sun rise over the Mediterranean, of shopping on the Champs Elysees and at various outlets, of many sumptuous feasts at fancy bistros... There are so many more memories that only they can recall, that only they can reminisce and smile back at.
They came by today, unannounced, and called only when they were at the hospital. Mum received them, and they sat down for a few hours. I took the chance to quickly go eat and to rush downtown to Boa-an Temple, where the deity in charge of health and recover is the main patron saint.
I returned later, and as I approached mum's room, I heard the "auntie" (mum's friend) talk excitedly about travels in southern France. I went into the room quietly, and one of the first thing mum asked was: "What is that name of that village where Cezanne lived?"
"Aix-en-Provence..."
Excitedly, mum's friend continued recalling their trip there, and I listened quietly.
"Get well soon so we can go traveling! Courage, and next year we can go to 'A-mei's homestay'!" the friend said, referring to a beautiful house in Aigle, Switzerland, where a Taiwanese lady mum's age runs a B&B together with her husband.
"You know," mum recalled, "In their garden there is a cherry tree. And in the Summer when there are cherries, birds would come and eat them..." She closed her eyes, reminiscing, and smiled gently. What came to my mind was that I climbed a ladder one day and went up the tree to pick cherries and shared them with mum. So fresh, so juicy, and completely organic, mum's favourite! There were kiwis, peaces and apples too, and we saw them all grow in the garden of the B&B. My mind thought back to the Summer of 2010, when I "surprised" mum in Europe and went to search for her all the way in Switzerland. The crazy thing was that two days earlier, I just returned to Canada from Taiwan. I took a flight to Europe the next day I landed, and a day after that, I flew to Switzerland to find her at the B&B. Why? I guess it was all part of what I nowadays call "Operation Eternal Happiness"-- attempts to do things with mum, for mum, to make her happy, to make her smile, so that one day she can look back and realise time and again what a wonderful, fun and colourful life she has led. One day, like today.
There was a tear in the corner of mum's eye. I wanted to give her a tissue to wipe it away, but I did not. The tear glistened there. Perhaps my mum's friend also saw it.
"Get well soon! We will go travel again next year!"
I smiled at mum, and still saw that teardrop. Some things are best not said, but that does not prevent a thought from arising, even a dark thought...
With her cousin and this friend, mum has traveled to Europe on no less than three separate occasions. Together, they have common memories of riding the Glacier Express in Switzerland, of visiting the village where van Gogh painted in Southern France (2004), of exploring the fjords of Norway, of taking the Flying Scotsman to the Scottish Highlands (2003), of exploring the French Riviera, of playing slot machines in Monte Carlo, of watching the sun rise over the Mediterranean, of shopping on the Champs Elysees and at various outlets, of many sumptuous feasts at fancy bistros... There are so many more memories that only they can recall, that only they can reminisce and smile back at.
They came by today, unannounced, and called only when they were at the hospital. Mum received them, and they sat down for a few hours. I took the chance to quickly go eat and to rush downtown to Boa-an Temple, where the deity in charge of health and recover is the main patron saint.
I returned later, and as I approached mum's room, I heard the "auntie" (mum's friend) talk excitedly about travels in southern France. I went into the room quietly, and one of the first thing mum asked was: "What is that name of that village where Cezanne lived?"
"Aix-en-Provence..."
Excitedly, mum's friend continued recalling their trip there, and I listened quietly.
"Get well soon so we can go traveling! Courage, and next year we can go to 'A-mei's homestay'!" the friend said, referring to a beautiful house in Aigle, Switzerland, where a Taiwanese lady mum's age runs a B&B together with her husband.
"You know," mum recalled, "In their garden there is a cherry tree. And in the Summer when there are cherries, birds would come and eat them..." She closed her eyes, reminiscing, and smiled gently. What came to my mind was that I climbed a ladder one day and went up the tree to pick cherries and shared them with mum. So fresh, so juicy, and completely organic, mum's favourite! There were kiwis, peaces and apples too, and we saw them all grow in the garden of the B&B. My mind thought back to the Summer of 2010, when I "surprised" mum in Europe and went to search for her all the way in Switzerland. The crazy thing was that two days earlier, I just returned to Canada from Taiwan. I took a flight to Europe the next day I landed, and a day after that, I flew to Switzerland to find her at the B&B. Why? I guess it was all part of what I nowadays call "Operation Eternal Happiness"-- attempts to do things with mum, for mum, to make her happy, to make her smile, so that one day she can look back and realise time and again what a wonderful, fun and colourful life she has led. One day, like today.
There was a tear in the corner of mum's eye. I wanted to give her a tissue to wipe it away, but I did not. The tear glistened there. Perhaps my mum's friend also saw it.
"Get well soon! We will go travel again next year!"
I smiled at mum, and still saw that teardrop. Some things are best not said, but that does not prevent a thought from arising, even a dark thought...
Departures
My aunt (mum's youngest sister) left this morning. Last night I slept at home, as it probably will be a while till I can have a good night's rest at home. I actually slept for a good nine hours, I actually overslept, which was embarrassing, as I promised I'd bring breakfast at seven in the morning!
Mum's youngest sister has been with us for over ten days. She's been a great help, especially as she gives me the opportunity to go home for a few hours a day to rest and shower. Plus, she has been brewing soups and broths, so that mum can at least get a little more than just water. She has been very helpful, not only around the house, but by being there, and being someone with whom mum can talk to and feel like less alone. But she has her own life back home, in the southern part of the country, and I always knew she would have to go back someday.
My uncle (mum's first brother) and his wife have been in hospital even before mum checked in. Today, he was discharged and also going back home. He and his wife lived in the ward next to mum's and every day they would come in and sit down, watch tv, watch the sunset. Their daughter, my cousin who works at the airport would come by every evening to bring food, and we've enjoyed many meals and talks together, given each other mutual support and encouragements. My uncle and his wife came into mum's room around noon. He is the silent type, but in the greatest show of affection, he held onto mum's arm with both hands. "You have to take good care..." His wife's eyes were red. She leaned in closer to mum and whispered something I could not hear, but I knew it must have been touching. "If there I anything, please call. Being like this is no state to feel like you're imposing. Please call us if you need anything." They quietly left, and the daily chat sessions, the routine walks around the ward, moments sitting around mum and chatting, reminiscing, drinking warm high mountain green tea from their home region while munching on peanuts and other delicacies, became a thing of the past as the door shut behind them.
It's just mum and me now... Mum and me, and the unknown days ahead.
Mum's youngest sister has been with us for over ten days. She's been a great help, especially as she gives me the opportunity to go home for a few hours a day to rest and shower. Plus, she has been brewing soups and broths, so that mum can at least get a little more than just water. She has been very helpful, not only around the house, but by being there, and being someone with whom mum can talk to and feel like less alone. But she has her own life back home, in the southern part of the country, and I always knew she would have to go back someday.
My uncle (mum's first brother) and his wife have been in hospital even before mum checked in. Today, he was discharged and also going back home. He and his wife lived in the ward next to mum's and every day they would come in and sit down, watch tv, watch the sunset. Their daughter, my cousin who works at the airport would come by every evening to bring food, and we've enjoyed many meals and talks together, given each other mutual support and encouragements. My uncle and his wife came into mum's room around noon. He is the silent type, but in the greatest show of affection, he held onto mum's arm with both hands. "You have to take good care..." His wife's eyes were red. She leaned in closer to mum and whispered something I could not hear, but I knew it must have been touching. "If there I anything, please call. Being like this is no state to feel like you're imposing. Please call us if you need anything." They quietly left, and the daily chat sessions, the routine walks around the ward, moments sitting around mum and chatting, reminiscing, drinking warm high mountain green tea from their home region while munching on peanuts and other delicacies, became a thing of the past as the door shut behind them.
It's just mum and me now... Mum and me, and the unknown days ahead.
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