Mum's birthday

Mum sat quietly on her comfy chair as she made a wish.

"Don't say it out loud, otherwise it won't come true!!!" brother reminded her. I suspected the wish had something to do with us, the children ad grandchild. I can imagine mum wishing perhaps to live a bit longer so she can see us all settle down and be on the right track, especially me. Mum blew out the candle, and smell of a blown out fire filled out noses before the pungent sweet scent of the decadently appetising-looking cake cover with soft dark Belgium chocolate filled our senses.

I hugged mum's body as she was about to slice the cake. I know it's unusual, but I too made a wish, wishing her wish would come true so she can be happy and be at ease. I wished also that she can be comfortable free from much pain, that she can eat and recover.

We sat around mum, all us children and grandchild. The carer was a bit embarrassed to join us, but we insisted that also have a bit of cake.

Earlier in the day, as mum rested and sunbathed for the first time in weeks, clandestinely flowers were delivered. A massive basket of beautiful pink flowers, with a note attached, from no one other than my sweet little nephew.

" A-ma,

Very happy to spend A-ma's 60th birthday together. These are flowers i asked mum to order for me, Hope you will like them.

Loving you,
Xxxxxxx"

Mum kept on saying we shouldn't have, especially shouldn't have spent so much money. But I know, deep down she appreciates all the gestures, and that she is touched.

Brooklyn Bridge

If you honestly mean what you say,
If you truly say what you feel,
I'll be on the Brooklyn Bridge at dusk on 19052012.
Perhaps it will be a new dawn?

Second last night

Will be sleeping next to mum tonight, just to make sure she will be alright: after over an hour of icing and wiping her body, mum's temperature dropped to 36.5C, which is about normal. False alarm, thus, and we could all breath with relief again.

A thought crossed my mind as I laid down my blanket next to mum on her bed. I remember when I was young, much younger, when I was sixteen, seventeen or so. At the time I visited dad in the summers and would sleep next to him. I remembered that on the final nights, I would always go to sleep with the thought that it would be the nth night before I leave. That would make me sad, and sometimes I'd fall asleep with tears in my eyes, having cried to sleep as I listened to dad snore and was so close I could smell his scent...

I will be doing something similar tonight, on this second last night before my departure...

38.7C

The ear thermometer kept on beeping and flashed red. A warning. Mum's body is burning at 38.7C.

The doctor told us to return to emergency when she has a fever. But she does not want to go.

The carer, brother and I are by her side. She is keeping mum cool with ice and a cold cloth.

It'll be a long night...

Night before last night

05052012.0122

Should I be sad? Should I be mourning? Should I face the facts and allow my mood to sink?

Am I lying to myself by being hopeful? Am I fooling the world by not thinking too much about the doctor's words the day mum checked out of hospital?

"It is in the final stages (末期)..." was the only thing the doctor said. He did not know what to say when brother asked for a time. I personally find it somewhat distasteful. As if one could predict when or how or where death, or anything in life, will happen! And what does it matter really? So people could be nicer and do better if someone does not have much longer left? So you could start living more and doing more with your life if you know time is limited?

The doctor was kind to sit down with us for almost half an hour. He drew a picture diagram of mum's inside, and better than before I now can visualise what they did in terms of the surgery and what is causing the jaundice.

I know much of this already, so perhaps that's the reason why I just sat there and let the words wash over me. I felt like I was not in the room, like I was just a bystander, as brother asked the questions and the doctor answered and drew his diagram...

There is a large lump on the duodenum. It is causing food to be trapped in the stomach. They connected a lining of the small intestines to the stomach wall, so that at least some food can leave somewhat naturally down the intestines and be absorbed. The lump is growing larger. It has compressed against the wall of the bile duct, suppressing the flow of bile which normally enters the duodenum. Jaundice is caused when bile, a poisonous substance if not excreted, collects in the body, and it causes the body to turn yellow and causes the liver to slowly lose its functions. Hence mum's continuing tiredness and still yellowish skin tone.

"I discussed with other doctors, and the duodenum is no longer operable." This was contrary to what I was told before, when I was given that glimmer of hope. Hope mixed with anxiety, for back then I was already told it would be a major operation, and I dreaded mum having to face another long stint at the hospital and having to walk on the long road to recovery again... Now, the lump has grown too large, and an operation to remove the duodenum and reconnect the "tubing" in that region ( which involves cutting out a piece of the pancreas, rewiring the biliary tree and readjusting the stomach and intestines even more) is simply too much work and too risky. It's not worth the risk.

"We've done the best we could so your mother can eat. She may still throw up a bit, as some food will still collect in the stomach and not go down the reroute, but at the very least she can eat and drink like before."

As for the bile duct, they installed a tube that is longer and thicker to direct the flow of bile down to the unblocked part of the intestines. For now, it seems to work well, as mum's jaundice level has come down (but still is very high...), but at least the bile is channeled as intended and leaving the body. There is still an open wound and a tube coming out of it, and mum has to have the tube in her for a month or two. The wound has to be cleansed and addressed of every day. Any sign of her skin yellowing more or any sign of fever, she must immediately check into the hospital, for it may be an infection of the wound.

"She can go home and rest and eat. It's important that she eats well and gain back her strength," the doctor reminded us.

Brother is scared, he told me. He's scared of what may happen, and scares of mum's condition worsening. I reassured him in the best way I could. Though, admittedly, I am of course also scared.

"It doesn't matter what will happen in the future, don't think too much about things. They said three years ago mum doesn't have long. Even if something happens tomorrow, or next week, you're doing your best, and you will not be alone. You've got your wife, your kid, and I'll be back too." (momentarily, I must admit, there was a rise in jealousy and sense of longing, for I have none of the important, valuable sources of comfort and support I just mentioned.)

Whatever happens, I am here. I will be here to support you, to support and comfort mum till the very end, I heard myself saying in my head. "You just spend more time with mum, touch her, talk to her, make her feel comfortable and assured. There's nothing more important. There's nothing else we can do but those things."

Brother was silent, but I know he heard me, because I've said the same thing to him several times. And I strongly believe deep down, he also wants to play a role, but he just does not know how or where to start. And I've been also telling mum to give him (and his wife) a chance, not to judge too soon, not to have any preconceptions based on events and unhappiness in the past, but to let them demonstrate what they can do, to let them have their chance at being filial children.

I believe strongly that this is all part of "Operation Eternal Happiness", an effort from all sides to get together and make beautiful memories together to keep, and to keep for life, and to keep even after death. The ways I've seen my brother and sister-in-law bond an interact with mum over the past two days have been very promising. And my nephew's cute little face and multitude of expressions and sweet little bouts of giggles is a wonderful bonus to add to lightening mum's discomforts and adding to her impression that life has been wonderful, and that life continues to be worth all the hardship and pain...

Live-in carer

05052012.1917

After the row there was relative calm. After several calls to contacts of my sister-in-law's mother, brother managed to track down a lady who could come by as soon as the next day. We were all relieved, and I think most of all mum and also brother.

I reconciled with him and explained my out-lash at the hospital earlier. "It's not that I'm angry at you. I know it's hard to be suddenly thrown into all this and not know what to do. But you have to try, and you have to show some initiative." Brother did that by making arrangements and securing a new carer to come.

That night I slept next to mum's bed, the same thing I've done since before she went into hospital. It was tense, and I hardly slept, for I was afraid of her condition just after being discharged.

The door bell rang shortly after eight. It was the agent and the new carer. They came in, and I let brother do all the talking. I let him take charge, let him take responsibility, for a large part of the reason to be back is to get him (more) involved in mum's health and condition, to make him feel useful. Whatever happens, he can look back and say, and mum can look back and see, brother was there, brother was part of "journey's end", however lob that end may be.

The new carer is a young Vietnamese lady, not much different in age from me. She married a Taiwanese husband and came to Taiwan three years ago, and has been working as a carer for a while, sometimes at home, sometimes in the hospital. She was quiet at first, but soon opened up, and I began to introduce her to all the essential things surrounding mum's condition, her needs, and what she likes and dislikes.

Immediately, the girl got to work, helping mum up, massaging her and washing her face. It was a promising start, and a bit later I took her around the local area to show her the market(s) and the stores where mum likes to buy her foods and veggies.

I got talking to her and got to know her more over the next few days, exchanging life experiences, talking about cultural similarities
and differences (more the former) between Taiwan and Vietnam. I guess as we are around the same age, it was easy to talk to her and vice versa. I just want to make her feel comfortable and "at home", and hope that if she feels at ease, she will do a good job takin care of mum.

To be honest, I felt a bit uncomfortable being the "employer"-- and I'm ever catching myself seeing images i've seen in the news of mean bosses who abuse their carers or deduct their wages "just because they can". I'm not used to the idea of having someone do things that I used to do, like cooking and cleaning. But I guess I had to start to learn to let go and delegate, especially as the day of my departed ticked closer and closer.

Diapers

I called my brother to the washroom. I thought I could do it alone, but I needed help. I thought I could pull up and straighten the diaper mum had around her hip, but mum had difficulty even just standing up from sitting on the toilet. I needed brother's help.

He came immediately. At that moment, for the first time ever, two sons helped their mother wear a diaper for bedtime. It did not feel awkward, it did not feel embarrassing. We are all family, we, a mother and her children, represent perhaps the closest bond there is. Mum panted as she struggled to her feet. I leaned in close and pulled her diaper up. Through my nostrils, I could smell the hospital still, that scent still lingering on mum's body, even though she showered just before leaving the hospital.

For all the things I can fault brother, of all the moodiness and impatience and his easy irritability, that moment when we brothers helped mum up on her feet and escorted her back to her bed was a beautiful shared moment and experience.

In that moment, I saw that brother can do things if he really tried. My faith in him, my ability to want to see the "goodness" in him were not wrong.

I later told him privately that this is exactly the kind of things I hoped he would do more of. He must try, and learn, or otherwise he'll never know and never really experience mum's life and illness; otherwise he'll miss out on a part of mum's life that is perhaps as important as traveling together and growing up.

Touching moments

I could not help myself even though I turned away and began to cry. The teardrop flowed down my cheek, even though I pretended it did not happen. I know mum saw it, and that she was hurting too. We were both hurting, both dreading the moment when we must say good-bye... Is there anything more painful than seeing your loved one cry and be utterly powerless to stop your own tears?

"You have been too good to me all these months..." she said, "Having a child like you is worth it all..." She shed tears, and it was so very difficult, so very painful to see mum openly cry. She does not cry when she is feeling pain, she does not cry when she feels so much discomfort. And yet I make her cry... I am making her cry!

I handed mum a tissue and wiped my own tears with my sleeve. "I just hope you are comfortable now you are back home again..." I choked on my words and had difficulty getting my voice out. I stuttered and croaked. "I just hope you can eat and regain your health. The doctor said that's the most important thing now. Eat and recover..." The doctor said so much more, but mum does not need to face so much when she has just overcome an almost six week stay at the hospital. Really, the most important thing is for her to eat, to rest, to eat and eat some more so that she can regain some of her lost weight and look healthy again. In the picture I took of her yesterday, one with me posing next to her as she ate perhaps two, three spoonfuls of noodles, you could tell mum lost a lot of weight... You could tell she's ill. She had the look my uncle had at my brother's wedding. A dazed, fatigued and tortured look. A painful look to look upon...

"I'll eat well and I'll get better. You've done too much for me to let it go to waste..." Mum likes the new mattress cover, and she said several times it's so comfortable and that she feels less of her sores. She kept on asking me how much it cost, and I kept on telling her it was deeply discounted. "The store lady was moved by my story, and she gave me great discounts. And she threw in the heart-shaped pillow for free!" What price can you put on comfort and good rest, I asked mum rhetorically.

"I'm sorry I've been moody and shouted at you, I..."

"It doesn't matter. It's all in the past..." I broke her off. Nothing matters. Nothing except mum being comfortable and at ease in her mind. Nothing else really matters. I have no regrets. The pain I feel is not from regret, but from having gone through so much with mum over the span of over four months. The pain comes from having pulled through, and to see her back home again. What will happen now, what will happen in two weeks, two months from now, nobody knows. The moments of frustration, anger, confusion and being so pushed to the limit... It's all gone, and we made it, somehow we made it. It is a joyful pain, but just as painful, just as heart-wrenching.

"It will be so painful to see you go. You've been here so long. You've done so much, and spent so much money..."

Inside my heart was shattering. I cannot imagine how it will be... Already I am crying, and I feel the tears are just beginning. "It'll be hard to go back, but I must. I promise I'll study hard and do well on the exam. And I'll go to my graduation." Alone, at least without any family present as I had hoped for, but I will go nonetheless.

Brother entered the room. "Mama, are you crying?"

Mum wiped her tears with her fingers. "Weiwei is leaving. It'll be so hard..."

"We're here..." brother said.

"But soon you'll leave too..."

With red and moist eyes, brother uttered the words with difficulty: "Sooner or later we will all leave. You will leave too..." My sister-in-law stood next to him and clung onto my nephew close to her chest. With a free hand, she wiped the corner of her eye.

My nephew giggled, and the mood and all attention turned. He wriggled in his mother's arms like a wriggly worm. He chuckled and seemed to find something so terribly amusing. Perhaps he was laughing at us "crybabies", for the real baby was not crying, but the four of us were. I laid down next to mum while my brother and sister-in-law stood at mum's bedside. I felt in that moment like the luckiest person, and was basking in the warmth of our bonds, our togetherness.

It was such a brief and rare moment, but it was a moment I could not have wished more for. Just the five of us, our whole family together, mum smiling at her grandchild, her children and daughter-in-law at her side. Such a beautiful, touching moment. Shame it did not come earlier, and that there are only two more days for us to relive similar moments together. But we had that moment, and it was so beautiful.

One day, we must all say farewell. But today is not that day, this moment is not that moment.

Time with relatives

04052012.1127

Woke up very early today, and went to visit my grandma (mum's side of the family). It's again my ritual, to pay visits to as many people one either side of the family as possible. I chatted with her a while before I headed over to my aunt's (dad's older sister). Before leaving, I prayed before my grandpa's (mum's dad) altar, and asked him to protest my mother...

We chatted some more, together with my cousin, about my late uncle. Death leads people to reminisce and long for the past, long for the things were. Death also reminds people of those who have gone before, even those long gone, for as we spoke about my uncle's final days, we also spoke about dad and his finals days and moments. I listened and listened. At times it got too much and was difficult to bear. But for my aunt, and my cousin, whose experience of death is much fresher and rawer, speaking about those who have gone triggered inevitable tears.

My aunt recalled the day of the funeral, and how it poured with heavy, heavy rain. A relative came, crying, and held my aunt's hands. "The heavens are weeping. Why is it that the good people go so quickly...?" My aunt said she too started crying. As she recounted the story, her eyes became moist and red again.

It was hard but at the same time also very touching to sit with my relatives and share memories of loved ones, and share our experiences of caretaking and coping with cancer. I felt such sympathy for their loss, and kept telling my aunt that she has done the best she can. "It must have been very hard and hard work for you..." It may all sound so condescending, but it's not meant that way. For I know very well how hard and how much of a hard work it is to live life with your moods pinned to the random swings your loved one's health between good and bad, and worse and hopelessness. The waiting, and the unknown is the most strenuous and arduous of all. And there is the uncertainty of how it will all end coupled with the constant fear of one moment when you suddenly let your guard down or temporarily take a break you might miss the final moment you've been waiting for, you've been dreading... Yes, we are not merely relatives who have lost someone dear. We are also fellow caretakers with a lot to share and talk about on this long and emotionally difficult road..

"Auntie, please take good care of yourself. It's been a hard time for you..." I said and patted my aunt on her shoulder. She's a small lady, with greying hair, and as she aged and grew wrinklier, I saw the reflection of my dear grandma, and saw reflections of my childhood summers in the countryside. How I have grown how people have aged and changed, and passed away... It's all part of growing up, of dealing with life, and death.

I headed to the high speed rail station and caught a train within a minute of it departing. I sat down, and as the train picked up speed the scenery outside began to blur.

Perhaps this is the way life looks at the end... A blurred vision fast forward, with glimpses of deep impressions that remain clearly etched on the mind.

As the world blurred outside, I drifted inwards, drifted and drifted off to sleep and to a world beyond thoughts, beyond words...

Guidance

03052012.1823


A little guidance from the deities...

"When adverse circumstances come, go with the flow of karma,
Where the bonds of people sparse, the bonds of family are ever present.
In your dreams, why fight between you or I?
Let go of the body and mind, and see the heaven and earth. "

In Chiayi

04052012.0304

Arrived in the late afternoon, and first stop was my aunt's place. She (dad's older sister) was surprised, but happy to see me, for it's been a while since we last really connected and talked. Last time I saw her, earlier on Monday, I did not say goodbye, but quietly left after the farewell ceremony. It's part of tradition here: you don't say goodbye or keep the guests for longer than necessary. You just leave.

We caught up on news, and my aunt revealed how in the last month or so of my uncle's life, she was constantly in hospital, afraid to even go home. He weighed 46kg (or so) when he passed away. Before, he was a strong man who stood almost as tall as me...

"He told me he wanted to see the grandchildren grow up..." she said, after I showed her pictures of my nephew and said what happiness children bring to a patient's life. Children give them smiles, hope, and positive energy. Her eyes became red and moist.

I left a little later to visit my uncle (dad's youngest brother). A bachelor still at 62, he's the oddball of the family. I spend a lot of time with him whenever I am in my parents' hometown, because he's by himself, but also because he likes to bike around like I do. We took our usual route, to visit my grandma's resting, and later went to the old folks' community centre for a session of karaoke. I can't sing for my life, but as it was just me and him, I sang- at times mockingly and with a funny taiwanese accent, at times with soul and feelings, especially songs about love and longings for an illusive partner.

I am spending the night at my mum's youngest sister's place, the one who over the past few years has periodically gone up to taipei to be with my mum whenever she needs help around the house. She was a great relief over the past few months, and without her I would have not gotten the few hours of solitude and time to go home go shower and rest.

My aunt and I chatted, mostly about mum. Earlier, when I spoke to mum she said the doctor told she can be discharged as early as tomorrow. But she is worried to go home, for who will take care of her? She can barely walk a few steps, let alone clean herself well or cook for herself. Who will take care of her and look after her needs, something she took for granted at the hospital for she had access to a 24hr carer? I'm leaving in three days, I can no longer be around and keep a constant ear and eye out for mum's well being. And Brother certainly is not up to the task, as well intentioned as he may be. As for my sister-in-law... Well, she's just very distant and handsoff, and she has her hands full with taking care of my nephew...

My aunt said she will go up in a few days, and told me not to worry too much. "Go back and co concentrate on your exam. Your uncles and aunts will take care of things here..."

I don't know what will happen, but my aunt mentioned that around two weeks ago, mum expressed interest to come back down south back to her hometown, where most of her siblings are, so she can have people to look out for her and take care of her in this crucial period of recovery. Mum never mentioned this to me, but if she is willing, if she really means what she said to my aunt, then it may be a good idea, for she needs all the family support and help she can get, and tree is no better place than back here in Chiayi, where all her closest family members are. But mum has a thing with being picky, and being difficult when it comes to asking for help... Maybe she said things back then for the sake of it, because she really never mentioned any of this to me.

Unfinished business

04052012.0138

So many things going through my mind right now... The nature of my random thoughts and disjointed writing style shows just how very scattered and lost my brain is...

I fell asleep, and managed to "sleep" for ten minutes, but was suddenly jolted out of sleep, and now am wide away at 1.42am...

The fact that I am leaving here in a little over 72hours is disturbing me. I feel like there is so much I still need to do, so much I still need to settle before I can board that plane with ease of mind...

Now that mum is/may be leaving hospital and heading home, I need to make the place safe for her and get special equipment in the washroom and toilet to make sure she can safely take care of basic needs. And I will need to tidy up her room, place the new mattress I bought for her on her bed before she returns home. So many things I planned to do before i left home today in a hurry. I never thought mum would be discharged so soon...

...and who will assist her when she showers? Or when she goes to the washroom? She is so weak she can hardly get out of bed without help, without someone having to " lift" her up. Her thin, frail arms have so little strength to prop her own body up...

And who will cook for her? Who will make sure she gets enough nutrients to restore her body to some degree o stable weight and relative good health? Who will monitor her eating and drinking? All I can hear is brother saying "I don't know what to cook..." What can he do then? What is his role in the picture and in the coming two months?

We can maybe ask the carer who's been with mum for the past two weeks to come for a short period of time. But in the long run, we will need to hire a long-term carer to stay with mum due to costs.

All these things here to be done and to think of. But I will have to think of my own life and my exam in a little over ten days!!!

All in a day

03052012.1234

I woke up early, even though I slept late. I was up till after one packing my suitcase, and dismantling my bike to get it ready for storage before I leave. As I took the bike apart, I was saddened by the fact I've only really used it twice. Once, a spin at night, which was cut short by a storm. Another day during the day, and the furthest I got was south of the city. My hopes and plans to bike around the island, one hundred km a day, never was realised. Mum got ill, and got worse and worse. Originally scheduled for end of February, I postponed till mid-March, then later April. I thought perhaps with brother's return I could find free days to realise my dream, or at least part of it. But he was barely around. And now the rain season has set in (even though the forecast rain never came today...), it's less likely I'll be able to use my bike. So into the bike bag and under mum's bed it goes... Until next time, when I have more time and when it's meant to be...

I woke up late in order to visit dad. I wanted to take a taxi and intercept an intercity bus at a stop on the hill not far from where I live. But by the time I arrived, I suspected the bus already came and left. The driver offered to take me, and we agreed to a price. Mum, when she heard how much I paid, laughed. But he was an old man, probably near his seventies, and for the ride through the mountains to dad's resting place, including wait time for me to pay my respects, I thought it was reasonable. When he took me back into the city, I said I needed to do some errands (one to get a wrench for my bike, and then buy some noodles that my brother did not have time to buy...), and the guy patiently waited for me. I even had time to go home and get some light change of clothes before I rushed to the hospital. And the taxi driver took me all the way. So I was grateful.

Before the ancestral altar I knelt and silently prayed. It's always the same... Asking the ancestors for protection, asking for their blessings, asking them to watch over my family, especially mum, and brother's family. I went to pray also before dad's urn, which I gently and silently kissed as I "spoke" to him. I told dad the time has come for me to leave. I said I don't know if I should be leaving, but that I have plans to study and to take an exam. And I told that I'll be attending my graduation, and hope that I can make him proud...

"Please take good care of mum," I pleaded, "Please give her strength and energy, so she can go home soon and recover..." There is really nothing I would ask for. I just wanted mum to get better, so she doesn't have to spend every single moment of the day in that hospital ward...


Later, close to lunch, I arrived in mum's room, and she was surprised, for I told her last night I'd be headed straight to the south to see my relatives. But I surprised her with "longevity noodles", roasted pork knuckle and soy-sauce boiled egg (traditional foods eaten on the day of your birthday to welcome good fortunes and good health). She had little appetite, but she did get up to eat a little, and I was so happy to see her eat without feeling sick or throwing up. As she ate, I wished that the symbolic foods would indeed bring her good fortunes and better health.

Downhill

"The nurse said she's seen many cases like mum's," brother said. I heard what he said, but there was no expression on my face. "And it'll only be downhill for now..."

I heard what he said, there was no expression on my face. But deep down, somewhere hidden from sight, I am hurting again...

Hospital Carer

04053012.1729

I could not contain my tears or wavering voice as I handed her the red envelop. It contained a little money I wanted to give her, and nobody else knew about it for it was my idea, and comes from me (and my wallet)

"Please, auntie, take it. It's a little something from my heart. I cannot say how much you've been a help to us..." I started to tear uncontrollably as those words escaped my mouth. "You really cared for my mum very well..."

It's been almost two weeks since we hired her. In total we had four carers, and she is nothing compared to the rest. She is caring, really genuinely cares, and she gives mum massages that have really made the swelling of her feet and the bloated feelings of her stomach go away. And whenever it's meal time, she'd think hard about mum's nutritional needs, and for severals days even went back to her own home to cook rice and noodles for mum. Sure she can be a tad talkative at times, but she radiates positive energy, and is very experienced in caregiving. And she speaks Taiwanese, or at least Hokkien (for she is from Xiamen, across the Taiwan Strait where they speak the same language as most people in Taiwan do), which adds that extra touch of familiarity and warmth--something mum has been hoping for in a carer. Though mum's health is still frail, she has on certain days looked really happy and had a reddish glow on her cheeks. I think in part thanks to the carer.

"Please take this," I said as she resisted and pushed the red envelop back into my hand, "You've really done a lot for us, and I appreciate it with my heart..." I patted her on the shoulder and felt my eyes dampen again. I know she gets paid, but for all the little things that she does more than the rest who have come before her, for feeling down when mum cannot eat or when her health deteriorates, for feeling joy when mum eats a lot and is looking healthy and feeling fine, the least I could do was show a token of appreciation. For not only has the carer helped mum, but she has also helped me, by taken a lot of weight ad worries off of my shoulders, by given me time to study (even though toward the end I did not really make much use of the time....).

Checking out

04052012.1345

We fought in front of mum, which I know is not pleasant for her to see. In the chaos of checking out the hospital, with so many things to pack, and documents to sign, bills to pay for, and follow up appointments to be made, it did not help that brother made a fuss about what happens after mum returns home.

"I can't take care of her! I don't know what to do!" he kept on saying.

I got upset. "What about me? Did I know what to do? You just learn as you go along!" I retorted, "I can't believe that you two cannot manage to take care of mum when I managed by myself all these months!" I know, it doesn't help to deescalate the situation, but it's been bothering me. He's not even tried to do much since he got back home (admittedly, he was struck down by the cold, but still, he has so far done sorrily little for mum or spent much time with her.

As brother and I exchanged words, mum lay languishing in bed, in great discomfort. I didn't expect him to miraculously know what to do, nor did I expect him to give mum (frankly...) the same level of attentiveness and care I give her. But I did just want him to take some initiative. Take some Initiative, not just be away with his family in another part of the country while mum needs support and as I am about to leave.

Brother got upset when I shouted back at him, something I rarely do. And he started to just throw things around as he packed them. Very mature. "Is this how you want to be?" I asked him, "How can you make mum so insecure and feel some uncomfortable about going home, when she's been so looking forward to returning to the comfort of her own home after being in hospital for so many weeks?"

The main problem is that we've gotten used to having a 24hr carer over the past two weeks. She has even exceptionally good at making mum feel assured, and making sure mum eats and gets up to exercise and walk about at regular intervals. And importantly, the carer could help mum go to the washroom and shower, which can be an awkward experience if I or brother both boys, were to do it. At first we thought that perhaps she could come back home with us, at least for a few days for us to find another live-in carer, but her agent refused to let her go home with us, and arranged for another shift at the hospital as soon as they heard mum could be discharged. That was the reason for brother's panic. he even proposed that mum stay in hospital a few more days so we can take advantage of the carer in the hospital, which was ridiculous, as mum, if she could and had the energy to, would sooner jump out of her hospital bed and rush home. She has been so looking forward to going home!

But panic, and a bit of angry goading from me, is good. Brother got on the phone and started calling and making arrangements, trying to get ahold of human resources agencies who could dispatch a carer within short notice.

I sat with mum and tried to reassure her it would be alright, told her not to be afraid. Deep down, I was planning to change my departure if need be, to stay around to help out more so brother does not become overwhelmed and lost.

We wheeled mum out the hospital, the first time she breathed fresh air, the first time she left the hospital building since she checked in on 20 March. She was very frail, still very weak. I held her hand throughout the ride home. "Almost home," I told her, "it's been far too long..."

When she got off the taxi, there was a step, and she could barely make that step. Her legs had really very little strength, her body had very controllability. It was then that I saw she really needed help, and that it would be a long, tricky road ahead for her to recover and be well enough to walk around on her own. If ever.

We put mum in her own bed. I had rushed home straight from my trip south and before I headed to the hospital to tidy her room a little and make it presentable. Most important of all, I put the mattress top I bought her clandestinely over her bed and under fresh, clean sheets. I hoped she would not notice, but how could she not when there's an obvious difference in "elevation" between where there is a memory foam padding and where there is none?

"What did you buy?" mum asked as she lay on it, "How much was it? How much?"

I didn't answer her question, or at least I answered her with a question. "Is it comfortable? It's supposed to support your whole body so you feel less sores and pains." And that is all that matters, however many times she asked me the price, and even saying she would go back to that store to check the price on her customer records.

"It doesn't matter how much. You're home now and I hope comfortable..."

Noodles

All I asked him to do is go to the market, buy some Longevity Noodles and cook some for mum for her birthday. It takes a total of half an hour or so.

"I have a kid to take care of!"

I asked him why it's so much effort, why he's making an issue out of something so small. It's not even a favour for me. It's a surprise for mum's (lunar calendar) birthday. Isn't it rare and so special that we happen to be here, all of us? And what effort does it take to make a little trip to the market and to wait five minutes for the noodles to boil?

Apparently it's too much trouble.

"I'll do it myself..." I said. Even though I was still outside, in another town and paying respects to dad... I guess if you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

Rain...

I waited and waited for a time to take my bike out. Waited and waited for my brother and his family to come home, so I could leave mum at the hospital with relative ease.

Tomorrow, I had planned to do the furthest trip I've yet to make on the bike, to Jinshan, to dad's resting place and pay homage to him before I leave.

But it began to pour today, heavily. Beginning of the rain season, which will last for over a week...

Nothing is going according to plan. All my plans are soaked...

Pre-departure

Leaving the hospital... Mum looks so weak, so very very weak...

So painfully sad... So painfully sad...

Dream

02052012.0826

There were a bunch of text messages from my ex, which I did not read or reply to. He sent them over the span of several days, the latest of which was one in which he complained of how difficult a time he is having, how hard he finds going from day to day.

This final one I wrote backj to. I felt upset. Why was he appealing to me for help? Why me of all people? Do I not have enough things I must deal with that are really a matter of life an death?

"And who's the one with the boyfriend???? You think you have it tough?!"

I woke up from my dream.

It was so real, so contextual, the words so close to what I want to say to my ex it could have been real.

But it was just a dream...

Sleeplessness

Past three in the morning, and I cannot sleep. It's a recurring problem, one I've been having for several days now. I simply cannot sleep, even though I am tired... My mind is bombarded with thoughts and worries...


My mind is so restless, especially with my departure in just a few days. I feel like there still so much I need to do, people I need to see and visit... And the pressure of needing to study, something I've not manages to properly do for days already, is building up...

I've been sticking around Taipei because brother and his family are still away. It's getting ridiculous... Almost three weeks since they returned here, yet it feels as if they never came back! There I was thinking ( dreaming even!!) before they returned I could go off and follow my plans to travel around a bit and relax, and get some proper studying done, but they fell ill and 'fled' to another part of the country. And who must (not that it's a "must" in the sense I have no choice and am unwilling to do so...) stay around and who goes to see mum everyday...? Who brings her food and things she needs from home? Who else is there?

Mum is still in hospital, and it doesn't seem like she can be out before I leave, which is deeply disappointing, and very unsettling. A part of me wants to change my flight and postpone my departure, but I can't afford to put off my studying, can't afford to postpone my exam again, after having done nothing for myself in so many months. And I know mum would not want me to stay longer. As she tells me again and again, as she reassures me again and again, "You've done too much..."

A part of me is worried and thinking too how it will be to go back to my "old" life. I'll have to face friends I've not been in touch with much for months. And I'll have to face my ex, and deal with whatever anger, frustrations and uncertainties that are still lingering around and plaguing our relationship (or whatever it is that we have...). It crossed my mind today that it was one year ago exactly that marked the beginning of how we got to become so estranged, how I increasingly grew distrustful of and disappointed by him... He said he wanted to go to a concert with his friend. I had my reservations, but let him go anyway. He came back and I noticed he was distracted, his heart was not fully there. A week or so later he wanted to separate, and listed a number of things about me that concerned him. But in truth, it was he himself who had divided feelings, who had issues and feelings to resolve. Looking back I feel so foolish for having believed him when he said he wanted to be with me, when he said he loved me. (admittedly, I caused much of this mess when I came between him and his romance, but he decided to be with me. He decided to be with me...)

Now I am not sure what I have to say to him, despite his apparent advances to reach me. I have not even told him I'll be home next week, because he'll just be a distraction. Distraction from my exams, distraction from getting back on my feet and finding the strength to go on and take care of myself. I need to find the will to do something for my own life after such a long time away and such a long time with all my energies focused on taking care of another... What I do not need is to deal with a heartbreak by having (or be given) false hopes of my ex coming back to me, only to realise it's all fantasy and day-dreaming.

I am already so tired, so very tired and about to go through a very rough good-bye, I feel... I am in such a messy state of mind right now, and am so frustrated and tired...

Dream

01052012.1058

"How long? How long can you sit like that?" I asked, referring to sitting cross legged.

My cousin, the one who lost his dad recently sat in front of me and showed me how he began to sit cross legged after his dad passed away. It's a Buddhist meditation posture, one I often take when I'm sitting down.

In the dream, I found myself sitting in the living room of their home. The decor was as I remember it, a bog room, with calligraphy writings on the wall, and an L shapes settee set made of bamboo in the centre of the living room. We would always gather there and chat for hours and hours.

In the dream, I was having dinner, some kind of soupy stew with lots of cabbage and rice. I was eating all by myself. I saw a glimpse of my uncle, who quickly walked by but did not say anything. Then my cousin came down and sit opposite me, and started to show me how he could sit by folding his legs together.

My cousin looked collected, not sad. But I could not tell whether he was hiding his emotions...

"How long can you do it? How long...?" I heard myself saying put loud, in real life.

It was then that I woke up...

Thought

01052012.1454

I am destroying my own body...
I feel it.

Mother's day gift

I really just wanted to get mum a soft padding to put under her whenever she lies down. But I walked away with a mattress...

Mum looked terribly ill today. For the two and a half hours I was there with her, she said very little. She had her eyes closed most of the time, except when I was showing her fascinating pictures of nature and of her grandchild on her eeepad. Otherwise, she sat lay there, and sat up for a little while, and just closed her eyes. From her facial expression you could see she was in a lot of discomfort...

Her red blood cell count is low again, and the doctor decided to give her yet another transfusion. As the two pouches of dark red blood dripped nip her veins, she became colder and colder. "It's so cold..." I covered her with another blanket, and held onto her hand to keep her warm. But still she was shivering. It is a common side effect of transfusions to feel wither cold or burn up in a fever, as the body has to adjust to foreign bodies.

Mum ate very little today, and for dinner just had a cup of warm drink, which is worryingly little. She said she had no appetite, and feels pain in the region where the bile tube is placed. Earlier in the day, her tube was changed to a thicker one so that there would be a better flow of bile out of her. It was yet another painful procedure and they administered a local anaesthesia. While they changed the bile induction tube, they also took images to see whether it is feasible to place a more permanent tube inside of her body so that mum does not have to carry a bile pouch with her all the time. The doctor came back and the initial assessment is that it is not suitable. No explanation was given as yet. I suspect it has to do with the spread in the duodenum, which may have worsened to an extent that the bile ducts are blocked and have no way out...

I sat quietly next to mum, leaned my head against hers and stroked her hands. Silently, I prayed and wished that she would feel better. I've done this a million times, but I still do it again and again in moments of despair. Why? Because what else can you do? What else other than hold her, touch her body and wish that hopefully whatever positive vibes and wishes will pass through the contact of our skin and quell her cancerous cells...

I left mum who had her eyes closed and who looked so very, very tired... I had to brave a smile as I left the room and wished her goodnight...

I didn't go home immediately. After a quick dinner (again, fast food...) I went to the department store she used to frequent a lot. I've been asking myself what I could do about her sore back, sore bum and sore shoulder blades. Much of the sores is due to the fact she does not have much 'meat', meaning if she lies for a long time, the pressure on her bones gets unbearable. She already has a padding, which she shifts from her shoulder to her back or to wherever the sore is most felt. But sometimes, she complains she is sore all over...

So I walked into the store, initially wanting to just buy another memory foam padding, so she has two and would have a greater surface coverage of her back side. Each costs NT$3600 (approx. US$120...) I was not surprised at the price, for the brand is her favourite, and she has a collection of pillows, a head-rest and even a comfy chair, the padding of all of which are made by  Tempur-- a company made famous when it invented a padding to relieve astronauts of the stresses of large G forces in outer space.

The storelady showed me the padding, the exact same one mum has, and she asked me what the pad is for. without going into details of what condition she has,  I explained to her mum's sores, how she feels sores and pains almost throughout her back side. The lady  told me I'm better off buying a mattress (overlay). "Simply place it over her existing mattress, and she would not need any other accessories."

I tried the mattress out, and it felt really comfortable, except for one thing. It was close to a thousand dollars, far, far more than I thought I would be spending. But the idea attracted me. If it can really reduce mum's sores, especially if she is going to be lying in bed for a long period of time, then what price tag can you put on that? I told the lady frankly that I did not have the necessary amount of money, at least not in case. "Is there anything more you could do about the price..?" I asked, "It's really hard seeing mum have so much sores, and not be able to do anything about it..." She understood, and for a moment there was a connection. She saw my heart, my intentions are genuine, and that I am truly buying it out of concern, out of love for my mother's comfort and wellbeing. The lady was moved, and said it is rare to see a child wanting to buy something for his mother.

She gave me a twenty percent discount, and then took off another hundred dollars or so under their "old for new" policy (whereby you give your old mattress for recycling). "I'm moved," she said, "As it's almost Mother's Day, I will give you a heart-shaped cushion for free too. But I'll have to clear it with my boss first." The heart-shaped pillow, also made of the same memory foam material as the mattress and pillows, costs over US$200 alone.

She rang her boss, and they spoke for a good five minutes. I could hear the lady say that there is a child who wants to buy something for his mother, but he doesn't have much. The boss was adamant that the pillow cannot be given away for free. Later, the lady came back to me and said it doesn't matter what the boss said. "I'll give you the pillow regardless!"

I was very touched, and had traces of tears shimmering in my eyes. I thanked the lady again and again, again and again. "Money you can always make..." I said. She finished my sentence: "But you only have one mother! Are you a single child?"

"I have a brother," I answered.

"Well, ask him to pay half of it!"

"He just got a child..." I explained. More to myself I guess, to justify to myself why my brother would not be contributing to this purchase. Just the other day, he was telling me how thrift he and his family must be as he's not working and is back here.

I walked away from the store with a large package and heart-shaped pillow, and hauled it all the way home. Along the way, I imagined mum's surprise when she sees it. I told the lady mum would get mad if she were to see that I bought her something else. "Just say it's discounted. Or better yet, just hide it under the mattress cover, so she won't see it!"

I smiled as I walked, and imagined the day mum sleeps on the mattress for the first time. Perhaps I will not be there to see that moment, but I smiled at the thought that even if I am away, my presence and the way I can touch her heart  can still be felt...

Heading south

It's so beautiful outside the window. Lush mountain ranges, clear, sunny skies. The train is hurtling through the countryside, past little villages, rice paddies and winding roads and creeks.
I was supposed to take my bike and wander through this land on my own for a few days... But I doubt I have the time. I doubt I have the time now, but one day, one day I will accomplish my dream...

This time next week, I should be at the airport about to board my flight. Strange to think now I'm on board a train and heading to a farewell ceremony. I've tried to rest a bit, for I slept poorly last night and woke up in an agitated state of mind, but my mind is restless for some reason...

The farewell

Pictures of my uncle flashed across a large display. Pictures of when he was younger, pictures posing with my aunt, posing with my cousins, posing with the grandchildren. The pictures told a story, recounted times gone by, moments disappeared, and memories that would forever fade were it not for the pictures that managed to capture them and later remind those still around of the simple, kind man who once lived touched the lives of so many...

It poured as the ceremony proceeded. Relatives came from all over the country to pay final respects. My uncle's colleagues, friends, and even the mayor of the city and various councillors arrived after the private ceremony to offer incense and fruits and drinks. He was an educator, a father, a husband. My cousins read out personal letters describing his kindness. He liked to share, my cousin remembered. Whenever he read an inspiration piece in the newspaper, he would cut it out and send it to family ad friends. My mum has many of such cuttings in her drawer, and the other day I saw one my uncle sent her back in November last year. There was a letter accompanying the newspaper cut out in which my uncle encouraged my mum, and told her she has done well raising two fine children.

My cousin described the final moments, how, as my uncle struggled and breathed laboriously, he kept on telling my uncle "Breathe normally, we're almost home..." (Tradition says it's best when one is nearing the final moment to be brought to the comfort and familiarity of home...)

Various people from the funeral service walked around and handed people tissues to wipe away their tears. From the corner of my eye I saw brother crying. He was clearly moved, and perhaps painful saw in the flower arrangements, in the huge calligraphy writings that adorned the make-shift altar, and in the presence of so many people all gathered to pay final respects that one day it will be his/our turn... One day, it will be my brother and I standing there in black, bowing silently one by one to those who come and offer incense, foods, flowers and fruits.

I stood and watched the ceremony, as if I were a bystander, merely a bystander. I was moved, yet not to tears. My uncle is gone now, I remember hearing in my mind, "May he be at ease and go peacefully..." I stood and fantasised and wondered how it will be when it it is my turn... Will there be someone at my side? Will there be someone to hold my hand? Will I be as calm and as dry as I am now? What a thing to think about at my uncle's final farewell...!

On the train home, I used the opportunity to speak to brother. "See how quickly it happens, how quickly people go..." I told him to really treasure the time he has with mum, to try to be there more, to do more for her. "Even if just sitting by her side means a lot... And a little touch can be so comforting and take away a little of her pains..." I said. I hoped that he would heed my words, and be more "touching"... as in touch mum more, feel her skin, touch her body, her hands, her feet. "It would mean so much to her..."

Toy

I stood in the middle of the carriage, leaning against a pole, and read the paper. It felt like such a long time ago since I last took the metro.

An elderly man walked toward me, and amidst the crowd I recognised him immediately, mainly due to the fact he was clutching a bunch of toys in his hands. It's hard to describe the toy, but it's a stick-like object with shiny ribbons (or sorts). If you move the shaft up and down, the ribbons spin around in a colourful display. It's a simple device made of plastic and a metal wire, and in his shoulder bag, he had many more.

I recognised the man because almost three years ago, I bought two of the same toys from him. Memories of that day flooded back. My ex visited me in Taiwan, and we had just visited a seaside town and were heading home (or were we heading to the town?) The same man fought the wobbling motion of the metro and hollered as he walked from carriage to carriage. I remember looking at him, a middle-aged man, and noticed that he was blind in one eye. And yet he looked so happy, and was trying to make a living. Nobody seemed to notice him, or perhaps they did not want to. Sometimes people want to look away or pretend not to see because in seeing an unhealthy sense of pity and compassion is evoked. But I did see him. Quietly I got out my wallet and asked him how much the two was. And I bought two, one for my ex, one for me.

I think I've only used the toy one or twice. The rest of the time, it rests on my table collecting dust. And last time I saw, the toy was on my ex's desk together with a bunch of pens and memorabilia from his trips, and collecting dust too.

The man stood by the doorway and tried to brace himself against the motion of the moving train. Yes, it is the same man. I felt the memories and compassion fill my mind.

"How much?" I asked quietly, and got out my wallet. I somehow felt people were watching me in the crowded carriage of the metro. Perhaps they were thinking: "Why is he talking to this strange man?" "Why is he buying this useless toy?"

"Two for a hundred!" the man said joyfully, as he showed me how the device works by shifting the rod up and down, "Buy two! It's well made and very sturdy!"

I took out a hundred NTdollar bill (US$3.30), and handed it to the man.

"Thank you!" he said as he looked at me with his one good eye. He did not seem to change much since I last saw him. I wondered if I was this was first sale of the day, at seven in the morning.

I smiled at him and followed him with my eyes as he continued to fight the motion of the metro and sold his goods.

What have you to lose?

"When a relationship ends, when you come from being two people to being by yourself, this is something you cannot not accept [...] There is nothing more in life you can lose, so your heart can only hold onto hope. When you are wandering between getting together and getting revenge, this way you can be less sad, right?"

Seven days

I crouched next to mum's chair and we chatted. The carer joked that it's funny, and sweet, to see a grown boy be so "clingy" and stick around his mother like I do. I think nothing of it. I am the way I am toward my mother. Around her, I behave the way I feel is appropriate and comfortable. Even if it's crouching next to her like a little kid, it doesn't feel awkward of strange. For how many more nights, how many more hours will I be able to be so intimate and close to her? How many more moments can I still reach out and touch her hand, feel the warmth of her body?

No regrets. Life is already too short and often too unpredictable to live with any measure of regret. This sadness I feel inside, which grows ever heavier with each passing day closer to my day of departure, it is not regret. It is a pain from having to leave mum's side at a time when her health condition is still fragile. This time is not like other times before, when I would come back and stay with her until the side-effects of her treatments subside. This time there are no side-effects, just a state of gradual decline of her physical health, and a gradual erosion of her spirits... How painful, how difficult it will be to leave her. And I can't imagine how it will be if I have to leave her and say goodbye if she were still at the hospital. It would be so traumatic, so painful, like never before...

Mum stroked my hair and patted my head. "You have been so good to me... I'm sorry to be moody and to shout at you at times..."

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters..." Tears were wallowing in my eyes. Not because it feels great to know I was wronged and that mum apologised, but because I know a lot of what mum has been feeling, a lot of her anger and moodiness is not because she wants to be like this. A lot of her emotions come from the fact that she's been confined to the same room for so long, and she is not free to come and go like I am. She is not free to walk around, to eat whatever she wants. She is not free from pain, from suffering, from the torments of her physical body and the anguish and frustrations she may feel in her mind...

I wish I could do more, much more than just sit by her side and hold her hand, much more than just massage her sore back and sore arms... But there is only so much I can do, and only so little time I have left to do them.