Lonely Island

Talk

2012-01-29T01:02:00.000+08:00

Rest in peace...

2012-01-28T17:42:00.005+08:00

"People haveto live their lives anticipating separation..."

I could not help but cry. I wrote ab

One day return...

2012-01-27T23:27:00.002+08:00

Letter

2012-01-27T14:45:00.005+08:00

What do you say to someone who is near the end of the journey of life?
This is not the first time, and it for sure will not be my last.
Do you say "Get well soon?", even though he will not?
Do you ask "How are you feeling?" when you know very well you cannot imagine the physical pain and emotional turmoil he is experiencing, and when you know very well you can do little to take either of those things from him?

What do you write to someone whose every day may be the last, whose every minute is uncertain whether it will lead to the next? You write with your heart, you write with words that will infuse beauty and wisdom, compassion and humanity.

Over two years ago when I saw my friend for the last time before he passed away a week later, I wrote him a card. It was not a get well card, more a "be well" card. "Savour every moment" I remember writing to him, "Treasure every breath". He was a devout Buddhist, and the one I accredit for leading me onto the spiritual path of meditation and living with joy and loving-kindness. He taught me and told me many times before "Life is only so much", and that anything in this universe "is only ever so much" (如是). So let go... Let go of everything. And those were the words I gave back to him in my card, for those were the words he once gifted me. And accompanying my card were pictures... Of the ocean, of mountains, of flowers, of sunsets and sunrises... Pictures of the beautiful ways and expressions of this universe, lest my friend should forget.

He cried seeing those pictures, and stroked the images like they were so dear to him. His family told me the pictures were above his bed when he peacefully left this world...

May it also be that my words and pictures on their way to my uncle will bring him much peace, tranquility and a gentle, small reminder of what wonderful beauties there are in this world...

No more, no more...

2012-01-26T01:23:00.003+08:00

Tears were rolling in her eyes, she said as she recalled that day when she opened my thesis and read my dedication. It is things like that she lives for, she said... Touching moments in life, not hospital treatments and doctor's appointments.

I bit the inside of my lower lip, so hard I could taste my own blood. Biting the insides of my lips is something I have learned can control the tears. Strange, because it hurts so much, but the physical pain perhaps overpowers the mental pain...

I hesitated to say it, but it has been on my mind a long time. I hesitate because I wonder... is it for her own good that I am saying this, or for my own selfish interests? Is it because I don't want to be (t)here to take care of mum, as I have done on and off for the past three years or so, or is it really because I have her best interests at heart?

"Stop the treatments", I suggested. Stop them completely.

No more chemotherapies...
No more radiotherapies...
No more cancer indices...
No more scans and tests and injections...
No more hospital visits, no more sitting in the crowded corridors and waiting, and waiting...

No more, no more...

I know I have alluded to my message before, so it was not a shocker. The reality is this: the cancer is spreading, unstoppably. How fast, how slow, I am not sure. What is certain is if you treat one place, another problem area pops up. For now, the the greatest source of her pain, the tumour compressing on the spine, has been removed. And in a few days she is due for treatment to (hopefully) eradicate any remaining traces of the cancer on the spine.

And then what? Her main physician referred to the fact that she may need to undergo more chemotherapy after the upcoming radiotherapy to contain her illness. Yes, contain, because there is no cure once cancer metastasises, which it already has. And sometime ago, he told mum that there are no drugs that are effective any more, because she's used them all. Once you have used one, the cancer cells become resistant. The chemo just kills the healthy cells and has very little effect on the ones you want to kill. Xeloda, Folfox, Folfiri, Erbitux... what else is there out there? And if the treatments are not working, why keep on doing it? How much more money must we burn through to continue with treatment after treatment? It's not about the money... it's about the dignity and quality of life.

How painful is it to watch a dear one suffer? How painful is it to watch your loved one bend over the toilet bowl and choke on her own vomit? How painful is it to have to quickly sweep away the falling strands of hair so that the one you care about more than life itself does not have to be reminded of her hair loss...? Multiply my feelings tenfold, hundredfold, and that pain would never ever equate the pain, fears and anxieties mum feels undergoing treatment after treatment, time after time. Is it any wonder why mum would like to "end it all"? Is it any wonder mum is becoming dazed and numb and looks so very, very tired...?

So stop it all.

Stop it all and let fate take its course?

Stop it all, and let the demonic cells grow and multiply, feed and fester inside her body until one day her body is but a rotten, cancerous corpse...?

After signing the agreement to proceed with cyberknife, with what I suggested to mum, why do I again feel like mum's life is placed in my hands...? Do I hold the warrant to her life (and death)? Is it because I really care, or I am too tired of caring any more and want this to quickly end?

How heavy, how very, very heavy that burden, that responsibility is... how heavy it is to tell your own mother to give up on treatment while she is ahead, knowing fully well what the outcome of that decision might be... And where was brother while we are discussing such a life changing matter, discussing the future life of our dear mother? Playing mahjong with his new family elsewhere in the country. Is she not also my brother's mother...?

Mum understood what I was saying, and perhaps why I was saying it. It's soon her sixtieth birthday... does she want to spend the last few years, months, or however long she has still, of her life going in and out of the hospital? She's lived that life for the last four years, and I have lived it, from afar and from close by, with her. Sixty years of life she's almost had, and would it not be a shame if it were all overshadowed by the pain and misery of the confinement of the hospital walls in that final leg of her journey in this universe? Dad experienced it, my uncle, who is perhaps nearing the end of his life, is experiencing it... so many people I have seen in the past few years just seem to rot away in hospitals. And how horrible that is... how undignified, and what a crude and colourless way to leave this world that is!

"Don't you want to see more of the world? See the flowers blossom in Spring in Europe again?" I was reminded of a story she once shared with me about this elderly couple, both of who got cancer. The husband (or was it the wife?) decided to go travel, see and explore the world and seize his days, while the wife (or husband) decided to stay home. The latter died soon after, while the other traveled the world and experienced life in a totally new light... Eventually, with absolute certainty, we will all die. But we may be able to influence the way we die, or at the very least the final days and moments before we die. Is this naive make-belief or bravely and confidently facing death?

I know mum was moved by my words, and I know deep down, she agrees with me, for she has on so many occasions expressed to me her disdain for hospitals and building fatigue of having to go through so many treatments, take so many different pills-- all of which are stacked up on her shelf like little mounds. But can she really just "go"? Can she really "live and let live", as they say? In this case, it really is about living, and letting life live itself for however much longer, in whatever way it carries you...

Of course, ultimately it is mum's decision. But one that will have a bearing on my life and my future. What if she follows my advice and urgings and suffers a horrible, painful end? Will I be able to live the rest of my life knowing I influenced the person dearest to my heart, to my life, to forgo the chance at prolonging her life by forgoing medical treatment...? Will I be haunted by nightmares, more than ever before, and tormented by a guilty conscience if influenced by what I said mum stops everything?

Ask me in a month's time, and perhaps this issue may be moot.

Ask me in a year's time, and perhaps these questions will have been answered.

give up

2012-01-25T11:14:00.003+08:00

When you give up everything, what else have you got to lose?

Sleep my baby, at my breast,
Tis a mothers arms round you.
Make yourself a snug, warm nest.
Feel my love forever new.
Harm will not meet you in sleep,
Hurt will always pass you by.
Child beloved, always youll keep,
In sleep gentle, mothers breast nigh.
Sleep in peace tonight, sleep,
O sleep gently, what a sight.
A smile I see in slumber deep,
What visions make your face bright?

memory lane

2012-01-24T22:58:00.005+08:00

Feeling like I need some time alone, I took the metro downtown and got off at a stop where I know there is a famous night market.

The weather was dreadful, and within minutes I was drenched, and hungry. As it's the second day of the new year holidays, much is still closed, and wherever it's open, it's crowded with families eating and celebrating, which for me to go in by myself would be very depressing... And there were moments, being drenched, and wandering around the empty city on a cold night like this all by my self, I felt u could easily cry from the deep, deep sense of loneliness and abandonment I felt...

I turned a street corner, and recognised the place... Dad lived here a couple ten years or so ago, in an apartment provided by his bank for bachelors/bachelorettes. At the time, mum and us, the children, were in the Netherlands, and dad worked and lived here alone by himself.

I knew the area well, for every summer I would come stay with him for a month or two. We'd go out to dinner at nearby eateries, and we'd stroll around the area every evening after his work. I knew the area well, and there are many memories at various places.

I walked past Dongmen Market, now a darkened alleyway as everyone has gone home for the holidays... I came to the gates of the building where dad lived on the fourth floor, in room 413 ( I recall many times whenever I left after my summer stay, I'd quietly "bless" the room, for I never liked the room number (4 being inauspicious in Taiwan, and 13... Well, 13 is 13)). A sense of nostalgia overcame me... How young I was then... Thirteen to the age of seventeen or so. Was I carefree, innocent, and free from worries? Not necessarily, for I had things that occupied my mind. Maybe not as heavy as illness and death, maybe not as frustrating as being broken hearted and feeling as lonely as I do now. But there were worries back then, for I was, and I guess have always been, a thoughtful (ie think too much...) boy.

Those were the beginnings of My parents' estrangement, which cumulated in their eventual (physical) separation. Even short periods of being together, there would be arguments, arguments which traumatised me. It made me feel so torn between a dad I care about a lot (but whom I could not really approach and express my love to, except every year with a card on this birthday), and a mother I loved deeply and often felt was wronged. I often felt like I
needed to be the bridge between the two, and was often the role of messenger. After periods of "cold wars" (as I called it...), imagine the smile on my face, the joy, joy, in my heart when they would start talking to one another again.. Those arguments, often over trivial things like money matters or what to eat and what to wear, caused me to vow that I, if i were in a relationship, i would never (to the best of my ability) intentionally hurt my lover with words (perhaps I failed miserably in this...)

I remember sitting in the foyer of the fourth floor on 1 July 1997, and together with dad watched the handover of Hong Kong to back to China... A sad moment, dad said, and he expressed fears that our homeland might one day be forcibly taken by the Chinese. Hearing that filled me with indignation and fear, and dad's words perhaps sowed the seeds of my love for my birth county, and anti- (Communist) China sentiments.

As I walked, many more memories came back to me... Hikes we took together into the mountains... Getting up very early in the morning for a soak in the hot springs north of the city... Walks in the park, which then had only feeble looking twigs, but now a decade or so later is covered with tall trees... Visits to the book store, where we would lose ourselves for hours, sometimes until closing time (I would be in the comic book part or the English book section, mum in the travel section, dad reading some kind of novel or current affairs magazine...).

And then I noticed the name of the road dad used to live on. Jinshan South Road, named after the same town where he is now resting in peace... I never made that connection, not until today, not until tonight's walk down memory lane.

Daddy 阿爸

2012-01-22T14:25:00.001+08:00

14.21hrs, Lunar New Year's Eve.

You passed away in my arms, quietly, quietly...
But memories of your smile, of your smile, the warmth of your touch have not faded away.
They probably never will.

I held onto your hand as you quietly, quietly left this world in peace...
Did I ever disappoint you, dad?
Do I disappoint you you now, perhaps?

Dad, I miss you...

Miss you so very, very much.

Sand in the wind

2012-01-22T09:47:00.002+08:00

Heard a beautiful old song the other day called＂哭砂＂(Crying sand)

Sandblown in with the wind
Falls on the sadness of the eyes,
Everyone can see I am waiting for you.

Sandblown in with the wind
Accumulates inside the heart,
A trace no one can wipe away.

Sandblown in with the wind
Passes through all memories,
Everyone knows I am thinking of you.

Sandblown in with the wind
Cries in the darkness,
Could it be that separation was already predicted?

And I could not get the song and the lyrics out of my mind...
Nostalgia.
Memories.
Hardship.
Longings.
Tears.
Family.
Lover.

All these things I hold dear, dear to my little heart, all the things I love and care about most of all in life, are described so beautifully in the song...

Appointment

2012-01-20T16:26:00.052+08:00

I rushed to the Hematology and Oncology clinic before mum did, to make sure the doctor had not left. It was a last minute appointment with her main physician, and as she is number 77, it must have been at the very end of the consultation hours. Lucky I was there, for almost as soon as I arrived, it was her turn, but she was not at the hospital yet. She was on her way, she took her time, as she was in a lot of physical discomfort from walking... but the doctor was on his way out, almost finished for the day...

I was relieved she got into the hospital on time, and the doctor stayed to see her. They have not met for three weeks or so, last time they met it was just before her surgery. She was scheduled for a routine consultation and chemotherapy treatment on 26 December, this much I knew at the time. But immediately after seeing him, mum checked herself into the Emergency Room, complaining of debilitating pains, and weakness in her legs that she could barely walk. They took her in, and a day or so later, on 28 December, she was operated on to have her tumour removed.

Mum's main physician didn't say much, and he looked at his computer screen a while till he turned to us , looking glum. It's good the tumour in the spine has been removed, at least for the large part. "There are other places all over. We need to do more tests and scans..."

Brother, who also arrived with mum, was glum looking. He has rarely seen mum's doctor, unlike me, and he has rarely had the opportunity to hear things from the doctor's mouth. It was actually my brother who wanted to arrange the consultation, because he wanted to know. I was shocked to hear what the doctor said, but it did not surprise me. I knew things, though not details. I knew the cancer spread to one of the lymph glands. And that is never, never any good, for a lymph gland is like a filter that white blood cells and the blood circulation system must pass through before being sent to other parts of the body. If one cancerous cell gets into the circulation system, you can imagine........

"Can we treat it?" brother asked, anxiously. I stayed quiet. Year after year, for four years now, mum has been in and out of the hospital... first the colon, then another part of the colon, then metastasis, to the lymph, and last year to the bone, on her spinal column...You treat one bit, and the cancer pops up in another area. I've come to the imagery of that her condition is like one of those "Whac-a-mole" machines... you strike one area, it retreats, only to come up in another area. Sometimes, two or three or more come up at the same time... where do you strike? Where must you strike hard? I played that game, loved that game, as a child... Inadvertently, you start to get antsy and strike very hard, pounding the machine almost, because though cute looking, the moles become devious enemies that you must try to eradicate. It's a competitive game, an addictive game that gets your adrenaline going. And it's a race against time.

But you always, always lose...

Yes, mum's condition has become like that. A race against time. And one that she, we, will definitely lose. And this is not a game anymore. Maybe it should be one, to distract from the heaviness of it all, to benefit from the adrenaline rush and excitement of all it? "Insert coin here" for another round. And another.

And another.

It's addictive, so very dangerously addictive. And it is hard to pull yourself away.

"The next treatment," the doctor said, referring to the planned cyberknife radiotherapy, "It's just for that part of her body. There are other parts we need to look at more carefully, and see how we deal with them." There was a silence in the room. I looked at brother, looked at mum. I said nothing. But I could see brother was hurting, his eyes were shimmering. I placed a hand on mum's arm.

"And your voice," the doctor said to my mum, almost as a side note, "It won't get better." Mum was shocked, I could hear it from her face after hearing the latest diagnosis. Is she really going to talk like this for the rest of her life? Will she always strain to talk and sound so coarse and raspy...? Another doctor, her neurosurgeon, said it would get better in a few weeks. So did a nurse. And it's already been a few weeks since the surgery...

We left the consultation room, heavy in thought despite the unusually clear weather-- something that I have only seen once or twice in almost four weeks. We walked home slowly, I savoured every moment of that walk, of those moments when the three of us were together, walking side by side.

It may be a race against time, but for those moments, our time together was slow to pass, but so very precious to savour...

Letter to dad

2012-01-20T01:29:00.001+08:00

Two more days (according to the lunar calendar), and it is the anniversary of dad's passing. I started my tradition of writing to him tonight, this one the fourth letter I will be writing.

I started late this year, because of all that has been going on over the past three weeks. And only late at night do I have the time and peace and quiet to sit down and write. Here I am, typing away at one in the morning, with dad's smiling portrait on the wall next to me, the sound of brother snoring a few steps away, and the sound of my nephew occasionally stirring and crying suddenly in his sleep.

What do I write? Where do I begin?

There is so much to say, so much to recount... The completion of my thesis, and my degree, which I began just months after dad left this world... My progress in establishing myself in Canada... Mum's condition, which has steadily deteriorated, and is still very much very fragile and worrying, and the new treatment now just days away... My first real relationship, how happy and blessed I felt just a year ago, and how shortlived that all was, and how deeply hurt I still am from the long drawn-out breakup... What else is there to write about? My hopes, my dreams, my longings, my fears... My creeping sense of loneliness, my feelings of helplessness, the feelings of being abandoned and alone to fend against mounting difficulties, my desires, my fantasies, and my frustrations...

Dad, hear my prayers... You see and know what I have done and gone through this past year...

Dad, I do hope you still are, and will be, proud of me.

Thesis report

2012-01-20T01:09:00.000+08:00

I opened my email box, the first time in a few days. Among the mails I quickly deleted was one from my supervisor. A congratulatory email, with an attachment marked "report" from my external examiner.

I passed.

Finally. The long-awaited result I have been waiting for. With the situation of my mum, I have not really had time to think of the results much... and to be honest, I did not (have time to even?) dread it. I read it, smiled a little, and was happy that this is all over. Did I expect the results? Did I know deep down that the review would be good, or that my thesis would be described as a "creative contribution to developing international law"? I showed my mum the results, and that made her smile.

Funny thing, over a month ago I sent her a copy of my thesis, and today was the first time she opened it, because she had been hospitalised the entire time since the end of December. When she read what I wrote on the dedications page ("For my dear, brave mother"), she teared and thanked me. Even as she wiped away her tears with her fingers, I tried hard to contain mine.

She thanked me, but I thanked her. For as I wrote inside:

[...]
Most of all, I wouldlike to express my most heartfelt gratitude to my dear, brave mother, to whomthis thesis is dedicated. Despite the difficult and testing hardships sheendures, she never stopped offering me her motherly love and encouragementsfrom afar. Her wisdom, forbearance, smiles and kindness inspire me to keepgoing, push me to be strong no matter what. The completion of this thesis, and thisdegree, is a life wish of hers, and I am grateful that I am able to fulfillthat wish.

Those words are as true when I wrote them as they are today, more than a month later, even after all that has happened, and even after all that she has (we have) gone through. And these words will be true forever, and ever, for my dear, brave mother truly is a source of love, encouragements and support, even from afar, and I am sure, even when she is no longer with me.

The news of my thesis is a welcome respite from the unpleasantness of hospital wards, appointments, scans and the imepending treatment. Again, the thesis is a reminder to my mum of one reason why she wants to push herself, why she is putting herself through yet another treatment, which may or may not work, but will certainly cause her (and us) much discomfort and side-effects. For mum would like to be well, she is pushing herself to get better. For attending my graduation ceremony is an event she says is one reason why she is training hard to get better, to walk again, and to get more treatment. Going to Canada again is one of her "life" wishes (as I call it), and I can only say I am glad I can help, in any small way, to make her realise that wish...

Warrant

2012-01-16T14:19:00.000+08:00

Why did it feel like i was signing away a warrant...? A death warrant was what came to my mind when I put down the pen. Perhaps it's a "life" warrant, for it's supposed to remove remaining traces of mum's cancer on the spine. But it felt so heavy, so very burdensome, as if the responsibility, the outcome is all resting on my shoulders. Just one little push, and I could have burst out in tears at the doctor's office.

The entire morning I rang back and forth between home and hospitals. I needed to deliver the latest whole-body bone scan results to the new doctor at the hospital we were referred to. Out of curiosity, I went home first to take a look at the images. And lucky I did that, because the lady who copied the images gave me those from last year, so I had to go back to the hospital where mum is still staying and get the correct images. Plus, I had to make sure mum has some thing substantial and nutritious to eat, for she has been complaining of terrible fatigue and lack of energy. The surgery had really taken away much of her "energy", or chi, as we say here. And a person lacking. "chi" is like a deflated tire... Tired, drained, utterly listless and mentally and physically eroded...

I rushed to meet the doctor's assistant at the hospital mum is about to be transferred to. A long journey across the entire city of Taipei on the bus and metro... Outside, the sky was so gratuitous, so heavy with rain ad fog, and I found myself having to lift myself up and tell myself that the sun is just behind the clouds...

The doctor's assistant was extremely friendly and patiently explained to me the entire procedure. She said it could all be arranged by tomorrow, and treatment could all be completed by the Lunar New Year, which is coming Sunday (With all the rushing around and time at the hospital, the festivities have escaped me, and I am only reminded of it by the changing of shop windows and signs and red lanterns...). But at mum's request, I rescheduled the procedure to be after the New Year, for she is already so weak and energyless.

So on the 30th of January a more precise scan will be made of the two (or more?) tumours on the spine. The next two days are planned for treatment, and on the 4th of February, a post-procedure consultation with the neurosurgeon is planned. I was again taken aback by the efficiency and speed of the entire process.

The doctor's assistant kindly explained to me the procedure, side-effects, and costs. Over two hundred thousand New Taiwan Dollars (approx. CAD 7000), as this form of radiotherapy is very advanced, and still undergoing clinical testing, so is not covered by the national health insurance.
I gasped quietly when the costs were revealed, for earlier an estimate (by her current physician) was half that amount... And I was specifically told also that as the cancer has metastasised, the next treatment can only contain, not fully eradicate mum's cancer. As precise and effective the treatment is, it can only detect and destroy tumour cells over 0.5mm. Anything smaller will go unnoticed, thus there remains the possibility of not a completely "clean" treatment.

I listened the to list of side-effects... Nausea, vomiting, swelling of the oesophagus, lung fibrosis, possible bronchitis, diahrea, localised damage to the intestines... As new and advanced as the treatment is, it is still a form, albeit much improved form that is much less destructive of surrounding organs and cells, of radiotherapy. The list of side-effects may be daunting, but the doctor's assistant said there was a duty to tell me all that so we are aware of the risks.

But what price tag can you put on health? What risks can possibly outweigh the possibility of living for another day with less pain, with more hope? Mum may never get better, may never completely be free from cancer, but for now, the new treatment is the best that is on offer and best way to deal with the spreading on her spine.

We cannot give up now. Not after we have come so far...

I signed the documents, and found myself trembling as I did.

My name was on the form...

I am my mum's representative. In a way, I somehow found myself determining mum's health and illness, life and death. Mum could not be there, for she is hospitalised. Brother could not be there, because he's gone home to spend time at the mother-in-law's.

And I am the only one who has to shoulder all this and decide right there, right then...

" I understand the cyberknife treatment, its necessity, its procedure, its risks and success rate.

I understand alternative treatments and their risks.

I understand the sideeffects and possible risks of the cyberknife treatment.

I have been able to ask questions and enquire dieter about the cyberknife treatment.

I understand the cyberknife treatment is currently the best option, but it cannot guarantee an improvement in the condition.

I agree to proceed with the cyberknife treatment.

Signed in agreement with the above,

XXXXXX , son of the patient,
Taipei,
2012/1/16 at 14.26.

eldery man

2012-01-10T22:38:00.002+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

Crying...

2012-01-09T23:41:00.001+08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it's not over yet..

2012-01-07T23:46:00.003+08:00

The surgery may be over, but the worst is not... Coming Monday, we will need to decide what step to take next

Completely drained....

2012-01-04T22:55:00.001+08:00

I'm so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open... So very tired from being awake and alert and responsive to mum's every need, and from sleeping terribly on the foldable sofa. So very tired I can type no more and must retire... And yet even when I sleep, my mind is bombarded and laden with thoughts, with dreams, with images of my ex... There is no rest, no real rest...
For now I will just say a lot will be decided in the coming days, and it will very much be life threatening and -changing...Though the surgery was a success, but it did not completely get rid of her cancer...

Day five

2012-01-03T00:08:00.002+08:00

02012012
11.35

I feel faint and light headed. The poor quality sleep and almost constant work is slowly taking its toll. And it's only the fifth day...

Mum really cannot do much by herself and requires almost constant assistance. I can see she is frustrated and quiet. I ask her what she is thinking, and she says she let's her mind go blank. If that is true, that is good. If not, I'm worried that she lies there and often has thoughts of regret and frustration, thoughts of anger and helplessness proliferating and disturbing her mind. The last two nights she has been sleeping badly, if at all. And she says she is besieged by dreams...

I can only offer her my body, my time, my care, my love... Nothing else. I can only wish her all the best and a speedy recovery, and nothing else more...

Happy new year

2012-01-01T13:25:00.000+08:00

Final half an hour of the new year. Sitting in the bright corridor of ward 172 at the Taipei Veterans General Hospital, just outside mum's room. I never imagined I would be spending this new year in Taiwan (again...). I thought I would spend it with friends, or alone at home. But I'm glad in a way I'll be welcoming 2012 with mum, even though she's already fast asleep.On the glass window of mum's room I placed some pictures and little notes. Something I enjoy doing, and something I thought would add a little touch of humanness and care to the hospital ward. "Happy new year" one said, and the other ＂Thank you for all your hard work". The latter note is directed at everyone, the nurses and doctors who work day and night to alleviate the pain and suffering of so many. But the note is also directed at the patients and relatives who struggle everyday against illness, anxiety, and fear... We have all worked very hard... All of us...Fifteen minutes till the new year, till the old is over and done with. Overall, it's been a tough year, and filled with a lot of downs, having to face a long-drawn out breakup, the prsopect of losing the best and closest friend I have ever had, and having to continuously face mum's deteriorating health condition and brushes with physical disability, and death...But there too have been wonderful times... My first true love, which was so deep, so real, so very beautiful... the wedding of my brother... realising the dream of traveling with mum to Canada... Taking the first step to immigrating permanently... the birth of my nephew... and completion of my thesis after three long years.It has not been easy, but life never is... Hopefully the coming year will be filled with more positive energy and beautiful moments with people who make me smile and who touch my heart, and that my hopes and aspirations will begin to be realised.The final countdown... The sprawling city before me flashes with colourful explosions and sparks. Behind the dark silhouette of the Yuanshan mountain range, the spire of Taipei 101 glows bright with an impressive display of lights and fireworks. 2012 is here finally... I look down at the world beneath my feet and silently wished...May all beings be happy, may all beings be free. May mum regain her health, may she soon recover... May I be strong, may I be filled with the compassion and love I need, and more, to carry me through difficult and testing times... Happy new year... May it be a happy one.

Wound

2012-01-01T04:04:00.001+08:00

31122011
15.50

As the young doctor removed the bandage I saw her wound. Under normal circumstances, I would have turned away, felt disgusted or even closed my eyes. But I looked with fascination, I looked with an eagerness to piece together the bits and pieces of information I can gather about mum's surgery.

The wound resembled a zipper some fifty centimetres long leading from the bottom of her neck down to her lower back. It looked like the skin was held together tightly. "Are those staples?" I asked. The doctor confirmed it. Skin staples, better and more advanced than stitches, which leave ugly marks behind. They will be removed in a week or two, when the skin completely heals and seals together.

That was the first incision down the back. On her neck, diagonally as if something slit mum's throat, is another incision ten centimetres long. Mum cringed as the doctor pulled a long thin tube from under the skin. The tubing was sown under the skin after the procedure to lead excess blood into reservoir pouches. Regularly the doctors and nurses inspect the colour and quantity of refuse blood and plasma to determine whether the internal bleeding has stopped, which can tell them whether the wound is healing or has become infected. And today the collected liquid has become significantly paler compared to the first day.

I stroked mum's thin, frail arm, held onto her hand as the doctor removed the pouches of blood that have been attached to her for the past three days. She was literally tied down because of the sacs of blood and tubing attached to her, and so their removal this morning was a liberation. One tiny little step toward recovery.

My aunt revealed more details of the day of the surgery. My uncle (mum's youngest brother) rushed to the hospital as soon as he heard the news of mum's impending surgery on Tuesday. He sat with my aunt and my mum prior to the surgery and was briefed by the surgeons (there were three, four including the more senior and renowned neurosurgeon) about the procedure and what they intended to do. Mum was pushed into the operating room around half past eight in the morning, and came out around 17.40hrs later in te afternoon.

"They placed three lumps of matter into little plastic bags," my aunt recalled, "They were of pale skin colour, mixed with the colour of blood." She was the one who waited outside the operating room for some ten hours straight. She was extremely anxious, worried and paced up and down. Her daughter, my cousin came to join her and calm her down a bit.

"I was so relieved when they pushed her [mum] out again. She was still unconscious, but at least the "evil insect" was completely removed". "Evil insect" being a taiwanese euphemism for anything that causes your body ill, and in this case the tumour which previously compressed the spine. "Those three little plastic bags contained the lumps that caused her so much pain, and it's so fortunate that they have been removed..." A bit more delay, and mum perhaps would not be able to move any of her limbs...

The hair on the back of her head has been shaven, giving it a strange, punk-like look. Mum's body looks and feels much thinner compared to when I saw her last. The chemo sessions, and now the surgery together will make her lose even more weight. I stroke mum's arms an legs, massage her so that she won't get bedsores. And her muscles feel so soft, so weak, as if they have been eroded or wasted away...

It pains me a lot to touch her at times, to feel how weakened mum has become over the span of eight weeks since I last saw her in October. But I brave a smile and look at her with love and reassurance when I massage her. "Be strong and determined, and tell me if there is anything I can do for you..." I tell her, again and again. She would often smile back, obviously touched.

The past

2011-12-28T17:06:00.000+08:00

The irony, the similarities of my feelings then, and now...

YUL-ORD

2011-12-28T00:33:00.001+08:00

0142102914823YUL-ORDI feel strangely calm. Have I been preparing for this in my sleeplessness nights? Have I been mentally bracing for this very day during nights when my mind was filled with terrible dreams and frightful dread? Where does this calm come from? I'm enjoying it, the calm; it is carrying me, allowing me to brave through the turbulent shock of the latest news of mum's hospitalisation and impending surgery.A strange, gentle calm... Or is it just the lack of sleep and fatigue? Fatigue too can be soothing, pain- and emotion-numbing. Do I perhaps detect an queer sense of excitement mixed with disbelief that this day has finally come? Is there a sense of relief that perhaps after such a long, long time, this may be the end of everything, the end of all that I have so feared and imagined? Nothing is more real than this moment. No imagination, however vivid and fantastical the mind, can conjure this very moment of sitting in the little jet and me typing this on my iPhone.Perhaps the calm comes from knowing that this vital surgery will (if successful) remove the tumour that has for the past year or so caused mum so much pain, suffering, dozens of chemo and radiotherapy sessions. Whatever the reason, I am calm, I am so surprisingly calm, and brave. I have not shed a tear, not yet. I have been so close, but the calm and strange peace that reigns my mind now is containing the tears, for I know there will be a time and place for that. And I am and feel so fortunate to be so calm, to be so brave still. This calm I'm enjoying now has allowed me to comfort mum, to let me talk to her without betraying my fears, my worries, for at this very moment, a mother who has to hear her scared and panicking child sob and lose control of all emotions is the least she needs now. And my calm, brave voice has allowed me to comfort brother, who was sniffing on the phone, and I can only imagine distraught and so very lost... My calm, this strange inner peace, has allowed to thank and thank again my friends who stayed with me for hours in that mad search for a suitable ticket at 1am... The calm has allowed me to thank and thank again all those family members and relatives and friend's of mum's who are now gathered by her bedside at Taipei Veterans General Hospital. So what happened...? Why am I flying now and reliving feelings and fears I had almost four years ago when I packed my bags and rushed home to catch a glimpse of dad? Somehow I knew it, somehow I felt it. I was not imagining things when for the past two weeks or so I felt mum has been particularly quiet and hiding something from me. I was not too wrong when I told my ex the other day that I may need to head home soon. And here I am, doing exactly what, strangely and without any logical explanation what my intuition and suspicions told me about something being wrong.Details are still vague and hard to come by because of poor phone connections and difficulty having a proper conversation. My cousin called after eleven after I just came from a walk to clear my head. Thank goodness I saw it when it rang picked up almost immediately. She passed me to mum, and it was mum who said that she was in the hospital.Admitted I believe yesterday night (or was it morning? Hard to figure out the chronology of events right now) mum said she began feeling her limbs getting very weak. At various moments during the seemed, when she was again visiting her friend in the countryside, her knee could not hold her weight, and she just collapsed. Yesterday, not long after (or was it before?) I called her, she went to the washroom and her knee collapsed again, causing her to injure her face. She got herself to the hospital and immediately saw her main physician, and the famous neurosurgeon. Together they admitted her into the emergency ward immediately, and began to do scans and tests. Her youngest sister (my cousin's mum) rushed from the south of the country to be with mum, and they have been there with her since...The tests and MRI scans ("the massive, thunderous machine", as mum reminded me, for I went with her to get a scan almost a year ago...) revealed that the tumour growing on the spine has not gotten much bigger, so it is possible to operate and remove it surgically. If not done soon, the compression of the nerves will cause her to lose more and more of the mobility of the limbs and eventually lead to paralysis ("Like Superman [actor Christopher Reeves]", mum said, something she has repeatedly said whenever in the past she spoke her fear of becoming paraplegic...) "I don't want to burden people. Imagine if I were dependent on people for my every need... It's best to have the surgery now..."Mum said that the doctors are top notch, and they reassured her that they have performed this kind of surgery numerous times. "It's time," she said "I can't bear the pain and always having to rely on painkillers..."As difficult as it was to contain my wavering voice, my shaking hands, mum said a couple of things that almost provoked outbursts of tears. She said she regrets that this year she might not be able to go see dad on the anniversary of his passing together with brother, my sister-in-law and my nephew for the first time... And throughout, she kept on telling me to stay put and study for my exams (as if I would have the ability to focus...). I was glad she told me, for a great fear is that she would hide things from me till it was too late... And as much as she persuaded (in vain of course...) not to rush home, perhaps deep down she wished to see me. Whatever she felt, as I spoke with her, with one hand I held onto my phone, with the other my trembling fingers frantically began searching for flights leaving the next morning. But, looking back now, I amaze myself at how strong I was, how strong I remained throughout the frank conversation with mum about her latest condition... All thanks to this strange, strange calm.Mum was hopeful, or at least she tried to sound it. She said she has confidence in the health care team, and that she believed the surgery would go well. What did she really feel deep down inside? I cannot, I could not, look into her eyes and see what her true feelings are... She said she wants to see my nephew. She said she wants to get better so she can travel again. She said she wants to come to Canada and attend my graduation... That was the moment when it got too much that I choked and tried to cover it up with a cough. To which she said: "Take care of your cough, go to sleep already!" Typical, typical of mum, my dear, brave mum...At the airport I called again, and found out more people had arrived to see mum, to be with mum. I spoke to her, wanted to tell her things before it is "too late"."Be strong, hang on there, I'm coming home, I'll be home soon! I love you mum..." I'm not sure if she heard the last, but most important bit, for it was and felt awkward to say it, especially in Mandarin. As much as I do for her, and have tried to be there for mum, I've never (I don't think) ever said "I love you" to her. But there are times in life when you know, when you feel if you do not do or say something, you may regret for the rest of your life, that may make you may feel guilt ridden forever. So I sent her a recorded video message in case she did not hear me."Mama... I'm here at the gate about to board. Hang on there. Brother and I, we're both thinking of you, sending you metta. I love you, take good care, see you soon." The magical, beautiful and true-to-the-heart words I said in English, for it felt more natural, more real that way...The cabin air is dry, the engines are roaring and the plane is starting its descent into ORD. The first leg of what will bound to be a long, long and difficult journey is about to end... I slept perhaps ten minutes or so since getting on board. The excitement of rushing home again, barely two months after I returned from home is keeping me awake. The excitement of what I'll face and have to deal with at home is keeping me awake...Another journey, another long long journey to go...

Homeward bound

2011-12-27T12:45:00.001+08:00

Heading home...

This is it.

If you can't have it all...

2011-12-27T07:05:00.000+08:00

If you can't have all, just give and take what you can. There's so much potential, so much beauty and positiveness that it would be a waste to throw it all away, to jeopardise it all over broken hearts and dreams...

Sleeplessness

2011-12-26T15:45:00.001+08:00

I am so tired but I cannot sleep...Dreams, thoughts, fears keep me from the fragile peace within that I have strived so long to find... Dreams, proliferations of images and words sabotage the true rest and calm I so long for...Be strong, master the emotions, contain the mind... Let the emptiness of feeling be a source of strength, let the hollow echo inside be space to fill life and waking moments with a brave new world...

Christmas day

2011-12-25T15:08:00.001+08:00

First few hours of Christmas day, lying next to my ex, who is breathing heavily and falling asleep. Tears, sobbing, crying... Before we used to fall asleep ao beautifully in each others arms, before he said to me there was no other place (other than his own bed) where he slept better than with me...

And yet lying next to me, I seem to have the ability to make he cry, make him sad, remind him of the unhappy things in life, remind him of what could have been but is not.I feel terribly apologetic, terribly guilty, and bitter. How did two beautiful friends, two lovers, somehow turn so sour and allow a growing distance between them to drive them seemingly further and further apart? How did two people who used to tell each pterosaur everything somehow descend into moments where tree are awkward silences and many things left unsaid...?

Is it me, me because I've been too tenacious, too fearful of losing him and therefore have been trying too hard to hold onto him, but in the process am pushing him, repelling him away? There is a gap between us though we sleep on the same bed...

A terribly and frightening divide I once thought could and would never surface. Yet it is there... My heart and his heart are drifting apart... We are in different places now, perhaps we have always been in different places, wanting different things, needing something different from one another... And now that is clearer than ever before, nine days before his departure from this city, and perhaps from my life...

Eve of Christmas Eve

2011-12-24T13:22:00.001+08:00

'tis the eve of the Eve before Christmas Day. For some reason, this year does not feel so special. I listen to Christmas songs on the radio, I've put up decorations with friends, I've even bought lots of food and drinks in preparation for a big feast with friends later this evening... And the snow that has stayed away till today finally fell, making it a real White Christmas...

But I don't feel the Christmas spirit. I feel blasé , uninspired, not really moved by the festivities (though the Nutcracker helped a bit to boost the feeling inside me...). It feels as if this holiday season came soon quickly, too quickly, and I do not even realise it. What have I been up to this December that Christmas just crept up on me? Traveling, working on finishing my thesis, and caught up by worries of my mother's ailing condition, agitated by fears of slowly losing my good/best friend, my ex...

I know, Christmas is a time for counting your blessing, for being thankful of all the people in your life, for having hope and dreams and wishes... And I am truly blessed in many ways, in more ways I care to remind myself of, in more ways I really actually notice living from day to day...

But this year, it just feels so dull (so far... It could all change in the coming days...). Is it because this year I completely did not spend any time or effort writing dozens of cards for friends and family around the world? Or is it because I just am so tired to get caught up buying and giving gifts?

Christmas... aside from the commercial aspects, aside from the religious roots, it's a wonderfully warm and magical season of the year. But I'm not feeling it at all this year...

Snowstorm

2011-12-23T13:48:00.001+08:00

Braving snow and ice, I left my apartment at midnight twenty, hauling a huge purple suitcase. I' coughing badly, and have a headache, and just want to go sleep... But I'm on my way...

Why do I do this? For a friend. And because it's probably one of the few nights i can surprise him so.

There are reasons why I shouldn't do this... For one, I don't feel comfortable sleeping at his place any more ever since he said he's "seeing someone". I just cannot relax fully knowing perhaps in the same bed my ex has been having intimate relations with another... I just don't want expose myself to more hurt, more heart ache than necessary...

And after all the help I've offered my friend, he wrote me a message today saying I've only been there to help with the exciting fun of setting up a new home, but not there to help him with the difficult task of taking his old home apart... It hurt to hear that from him, because I've really tried and tried so hard to help him in whatever way, despite having been terribly busy (and terribly sick still) myself. But I guess he's just frustrated at the million and one things he has to do before leaving and moving away.

So here I am on the metro, on my way to his place. Purely to help a friend in need, a friend who is desperate for any help. I don't expect anything, and with the many things that are going through my ex's mind right, this little gesture may seem insignificant. But I'd do anything to help, and to show that I care.

Abuse

2011-12-23T03:51:00.001+08:00

A harrowing report on child abuse... and this is just in the United States.

"Abused children are 74 times more likely to commit crimes against others and six times more likely to maltreat their own children..."

This begs so many questions I do not know if I can ever answer...

Phone calls

2011-12-22T21:48:00.029+08:00

Something is wrong. Before, mum sounded energetic on the phone, but nowadays she sounds just tired and down. It's heavy to deal with in the morning, first thing as soon as I wake up in the morning to be talking to someone who sounds so tired and unwell. Why do I call at that time? Why do I put myself through heavy conversations that more or less set the "tone" of my day...? Because I feel responsible...
Sometimes, after speaking to her, I feel so exhausted, and I just close my eyes and go back to sleep... Because that seems to be the easiest way to blink out the heaviness, to let the aroused feelings of anguish and frustrations settle.

Today, she sounded even worse as her voice sounded very coarse. She said it was because she took some herbal medicine, which is quite concentrated, and within an hour or so of taking this medicine, she is not supposed to drink any water. But even so, hearing her voice like that wasn't reassuring, especially knowing from my uncle and aunt that mum has become visibly frailer compared to before.

I tried to cheer her up, and talk about the exciting ballet I went to see last night with friends. But mum just was tired and wanted to go to bed. My excitement was dampened, and my attempt to distract her from brooding thoughts of painkillers, pains and lethargy failed.

These days I search and search so hard to find something to cheer her up, but I cannot think of much. I myself am in need of cheering up... I myself need someone to make me laugh, make me smile...

A few more days and the gift package my friend and I made should arrive. Hopefully that will bring her renewed feelings of freshness and joy, hopefully the gifts will touch her and warm her during these cold, cold and dark Winter days...

Cold

2011-12-21T22:10:00.020+08:00

Mum may have been found, but noticeably she sounds more frail and weaker. On the phone today she told me again that she feels personally the treatment does not seem to be working any more. "So many treatments, and I'm getting weaker and weaker..." Is there an end in sight? How much longer? How much more?

The tiredness, I hear it in her voice, I hear it in the way she talks about how her days, which mainly consist of staying at home, watching TV and surfing the net. Even just reading takes a lot of energy, and she feels like she is losing her eyesight, and straining hard to see... When she went "missing", I called my aunt, and she said mum has really lost a lot of weight, and that she will try to spend as much time with mum as possible to make sure mum eats properly. "Because when she is alone she doesn't eat well enough..."

Mum said her feet and hands are really cold, and that another cold front is fast approaching. The other day, my ex and I were at this exposition of arts and crafts made by local artists and craftspeople, and he insisted on buying something warm for mum to wear. He actually proposed to buy slippers decked with lambs wool, but I said that it would be too warm and that she would never wear it. I said that in a way also so my friend would not have to spend so much money, especially as he has already bought a lot for mum. And the slippers were close to a hundred dollars a pair...

Funny thing, when I asked what I could send her for the new year, she said perhaps some warm slippers. How wrong I was... So earlier today I rushed to the expo again to buy the slippers, and placed it inside a box containing all sorts of goodies and gifts.

At the bottom of the pile, I included a copy of my thesis. The thesis I finally finished and dedicated to my mum. Inside, I wrote a long message, thanking her (and dad) for all the support and encouragement she has (they have) given me throughout my life. "This thesis is about preventing conflict in outer space and concern for the natural environment," I wrote, "Because these are values that you [my parents] have instilled in me since childhood."

I'm not sure what mum will think when she reads that. But with the completion of the thesis, soon the Japanese daruma doll mum bought in Japan a few years back can have one of his eyes "opened". For the completion of this degree is a life wish of hers, and I have finally been able to accomplish yet another, and make her proud.

turning away

2011-12-20T23:21:00.001+08:00

"How can anyone turn away and not feel the least guilty?" I asked "How can anyone do that and sleep at night, knowing how much hurt has been caused?" These questions have plagued my mind for such a long time, even though I know I probably will never know the answer. Somethings will in life always remain a mystery. And you just have to accept it.

"Not everyone feels as you do. Some can switch off their feelings and get on with their lives. So should you."

Those words I knew were coming. I expected them. I too must one day learn to be smart, to turn away and not look back.

lost and found

2011-12-20T22:56:00.002+08:00

Mum was fine. eventually after dozens of times calling, after so many people searching for her and trying to contact her, she arrived back home safe and sound.

She did go to visit her friend an enjoy many soaks in the hot springs. She had a relaxing time, time during which the reoccurring pains and sores did not bother her so much. She felt bad that so many people were looking for her and became so worried. A friend of hers, who calls everyday to check up on her, almost didn't sleep. Brother reportedly smoked a whole pack of cigarettes out of nervousness. I sat at home, trying to find things to do to distract myself, while calling and calling every hour or so... I even found flights and half packed my bags just in case I needed to fly out this morning...

I said that its all a sign that so many people care so much, and that it's special to be thought of so much. Mum said she was touched by the big international search operation, and laughed when I told her my fear that she had misled me and instead checked into the hospital for surgery. "So pessimistic!" she said of me.

I'm relieved that mum is alright. My ex came by late at night to keep me company, interrupted a date he had just to be with me. I wasn't very responsive, and was even distant and rude toward him when he came by, despite me repeatedly telling him not to. But came and stayed, and showed by being there through this episode, as difficult as it is to comprehend, how much he loves me...

I'm relieved mum is alright. A heavy heavy weight was lifted from my shoulders, and for a while after I finally saw mum on Skype I sat in bed dazed and trembling, holding tightly onto the teddy bear mum gave me... It felt like I was holding her, hugging her tightly, and not wanting to let go.

"It's like a fire drill..." This entire episode of disappearance and mobilising so many people to search for mums whereabouts felt like preparation for something. It was just false alarm this time, and at the end of the day could smile again...

But one day it'll not be just a drill but for real.

Disgusting

2011-12-20T21:42:00.000+08:00

He told me my behaviour in recent weeks disgusts him, that at times he cannot even bare to see me or my face. Yes, I've become extremely bitter in the past few weeks, especially ever since my return from Taiwan in October, when a day later he went off on a trip with the "guy he's seeing".

My ex told me a few weeks ago not to think too much, not to worry, to have patience. Nothing serious is going on between him and the guy he's seeing, he told me. What he said made me feel like he would at any moment turn around and say "i want to be with you". The flirtatious comments, the sleeping next to one another, the intimate moments now and then only added to that feeling.

Last night, he slept over at my place, and come morning the mood soured when he said he'd be seeing the guy he's seeing.

How can he do this and not feel at all conflicted? How can he one night lie next to me and want to have warm, beautiful hugs when the next night most likely he'll do the same with another boy? How can anybody not feel at all torn inside? Sure, I caused this, and that's what my ex will tell me when I ask him. I caused this mess, and I am very sorry for it... But at times, especially when my ex told me to have patience, to not worry, it's as if he's trying to hang onto me while he goes and tries to see if things will work out with this guy he's seeing.

I don't blame him, but myself for being so foolish, for being so silly and ignoring my friends' warnings to stay away from my ex and to avoid getting hurt.

He tells me my behaviour over the past few weeks have made it more and more difficult to like me, and has cast doubt on his mind on getting back together with me.

I agree... I have been a vile and disgusting creature, driven by jealousy, possessiveness (even though I don't own him at all, even though I have no control over his heart and his mind...). I have descended to such vile depths to taken a little man from his apartment, an incident that caused him much distress and later disappointment... What have I become? How has this entire episode, the lingering relationship and tattered friendship between my friend and I turned me into a monster driven by bitterness and frustration? I have only myself to blame, and I look at myself and feel vile and disgusted, ugly and unlovable...

I know I caused all the mess, I know I cannot lament anyone, for we could have had it all were it not for my holding back and hesitations. And the past few weeks, my feelings of inadequacy, insecurity and frustration are pointing to one thing... He's not worth it. He's not worth me beating myself up and feeling so poorly about myself when in the background is mum's ailing condition (and today sudden disappearance...). He has been there to support me, to hold me and to make me strong when I most need someone... But now he just somehow makes me feel weaker, more scattered and mote insecure about myself than ever before. Before he was a source of strength, now he's somehow become a drain on my energy and happiness... And it's so sad, so very sad to see that happening, to see us, best friends, descend and slide seemingly to distant friends who because of the feuds and unresolved issues, are becoming more and more distant.

It's me, it's not him. I care about him still deeply, perhaps too much, and I want him to be happy. But more and more, through our arguments, my sudden turns of "bitch*ness" as he terms it, my lashing out, feelings of bitterness and frustrations are irritating my mind and senses, taking over my thoughts and waking moments....

And it is so ugly, so very, very ugly to be and feel this way...
I can hardly recall when I have ever felt so ugly and deflated...

Nutcracker

2011-12-20T12:50:00.000+08:00

I was lured into dressing up for the evening. So I excitedly put on my suit, a nice tailor made shirt and a classy tie to go with it, thinking we're all going out to a fancy restaurant.

Making sure I was ontime, because my friend said the table would only be kept for us for fifteen minutes, I left home a bit early and arrived with minutes to spare. Once in a while, especially at this very special period of the year, it's ok to "splash out" and splurge. Even though I was a bit taken aback by how much the dinner would cost so I still went. Besides, I've not really "celebrated" since handing in my thesis.

My friends arrived, and my ex handed us all a piece of paper. I was puzzled... Weren't we going to dinner? I didn't eat much for lunch thinking there'd be a fancy feast at night. Instead in my hand was a ticket to see Casse-Noissete (the Nutcracker)...

I was a bit dazed, a bit surprised to have been deceived into thinking and preparing for something, but it turned out to be something else. I guess it's only fair that I play tricks and try to pull off big surprises on my ex, so he's "paying me back" with an unexpected surprise of his own. Funny thing was, some time ago I actually asked if he wanted to go with me to watch the ballet, but he was non committal. And I wanted to surprise him by just buying him a ticket to go together, and were I not in a hurry today, I would have probably got the ticket...

The performance was beautiful, simply magical. As a child, I listened to the Nutcracker story over and over again. The picture book I read and re-read till the pages were torn at the sides. I can still picture the tin soldier and the ballerina, how they waltzed and danced late into the night...

Later on, for a period of time during my university years, I would get lost in the tsaikovsky's grand compositions whenever I rode the tube. I know the music through and through, and it has been forever it feels since I last saw the performance live on stage.

The costumes were bright and colourful, the decor warming and fairy-tale like. I was soon pulled in, and like a friend said, reliving the dreams and fantasies of a little child who could dance and play with soldiers and ballerinas. The music, the dance, the swift, agile movements and steps. I was absorbed by the performance, touched by that magical, magical spirit of Christmas I have found ao lacking this year...

Still missing..

2011-12-20T11:08:00.003+08:00

Almost 24hrs since I last spoke to mum, since anyone in the immediate range of friends and relatives spoke to mum.

Still out of contact.

If I cannot get a hold of her by morning, I'm flying out.

missing in action

2011-12-20T03:18:00.003+08:00

I last spoke to mum at around 11am Taiwan time. She said she was just about to head out, after complaining of severe sores and aches from the latest treatment. It has been three days, but because of the cold weather she said the recovery is taking longer, and she's not been able to exercise and get the toxins out.

So she said she'd go visit a friend in the east of the country, where hot springs come out of the tap. The warm water and being in the countryside will do her good, she said. I thought not much of it, but did find it bizarre that she would go travel so soon after her latest treatment, especially as it's a time for recovery... And she seemed eager to get off the phone for some reason...

I woke up and tried calling her mobile phone to see whether she arrived ok. It was nine and again ten at night, her time, when I tried. But neither times did the call get answered.

I thought she was asleep. But brother called me around noon (one in the morning Taiwan time) and said mums gone missing. A search campaign was began, and several messages on Facebook Walls of mum's best friend and her brother reveal the extent of the worry. Mums been incommunicado since at least 4 in the afternoon her time. People have been trying yo call and get a hold of her, but the mobile is not picked up.

Did she not bring it with her? Did she have it on silent? Nobody knows. From her friends to her relatives, everyone has been trying to locate her and find out whether she's alright. An auntie who calls mum everyday has been extremely concerned, as she mentioned on my brother's facebook page that mum has complained of severe pains over the past few days... And after a hiatus of over two years, suddenly last week, mum's youngest sister went to visit her and stay with her. More and more, I noticed that over the past few weeks mum has been quiet on her condition, perhaps because she did not want to worry me while I've been busy trying to finish off my thesis...

Brother said he was extremely anxious the whole afternoon. I am seeing terrible premonitions of mum... In my mind, I imagine grabbing my suitcase and going... Sick, sick with worry... And I'm so tired, so very very tired. Just when I thought I could relax a bit after finishing my thesis, after a long weekend of helping my friend set up his apartment, this suddenly happens.

It could all just be false alarm, an overreaction... Perhaps mum is all well and fine and enjoying herself with her friend. But mum usually has her phone with her, and would even pick up late at night... But so far she's completely disappeared and concerns are mounting...

What if she checked into the hospital to have surgery...?

What if something happened to her in her way to her friend's place?

What if, what if...

If only I could know...

Hiding...

2011-12-19T07:43:00.000+08:00

On the way home to montreal, a long weekend helping my ex move to his new town of toronto.

A busy three days of moving, furniture-buying and -building. I was glad I could help in little ways, help him make his new apartment feel more like home.

When he first went to collect the keys to his new place about two weeks ago, it was a completely empty apartment. On the first night, my ex had to sleep on the floor. Save for three suitcases of clothes and personal items (including a collection of stuffed animals) there really were just four bare walls. Secretly, as part of a series of his birthday surprises, sent him a "welcome home" card, actually expedited it to ensure that it would arrive on the day he first enters the apartment. In it I hoped that he would soon feel at home in his new home, and hoped he would soon make new friends and happy memories so that he does not feel so lonely in the new city. He said that card made him cry... As it was also his birthday on that day, inside his suitcase I hid a nice blanket mum bought and wanted to gift him. That night he slept using the blanket. Just little touches, little surprises to make his feel special, because he is special to me...

That's also the reason why I worked so hard, and with help from his parents and friends, to make him a scrapbook to constantly, and hopefully always, remind him of who he is and yo never loose sight of who he is

After this weekend of furnishing the place shelves an essentials (and finally his bed was delivered), the place really does looks more and more like a home. I helped him put up his fridge magnets, a collection from all the places he's been to, some of which were with me. That was a memorable moment, just the two of us sitting on the floor and putting up magnets, recalling trips we've been on together.

Helping him move was an experience of mixed feelings. I'm really glad I can help him settle down, place some personal touches here and there so that when he finally moves in at the beginning of the year, it'll have a familiar, personalised, feel to the place. It's important, especially moving to a new city, starting a whole new career and whole new life, to have something to remind yourself with memorabilia and gifts of where you came from. .

One such gift that went up on the shelf is a wood carved toy canoe with two little figurines inside, which I gave my ex last year. It's a symbolic gift, at the time representing the hope of us being together and 'sailing' on the currents of life. At the bottom of the canoe I wrote in black marker pen "Life is best sailing together" (or something along those lines). It's also a gift I sent my brother and my sister-in-law for their engagement.

Seeing that canoe brought sour feelings to my heart. I don't know why I had the urge to take the little figurine that was supposed to represent me out and keep it. Was it feelings of bitterness lingering from our past? Was it out of vengeance?

No... Seeing "me" in that canoe just felt so wrong, so out of place. I do not belong there in that canoe anymore. time and time again I am seeing signs of that, time and time again seeing my friend so eagerly want to contact the guy he's seeing, just makes me feel that little wooden figurine is best replaced by another (or perhaps already has been replaced by another...)

My ex was distraught when he realised that one figurine went missing. "Where's my man?" he kept on asking. At one point he appeared to be tearing. I told him to look around a bit more, because the man I had taken and put it inside a bag. I know, it was mean of me, terribly mean... But I was lost why it mattered so much. I do not belong in that canoe anymore. I don't...

I asked him why that missing figurine means so much. And he said it was very a symbolic gift of he and I. And he said the figurine going "missing" is a bad omen that he'll be all alone in the town he's going to live in. I assured him, he has friends, a wonderful apartment with everything he needs, and a new job and start of a successful career is waiting for him. Why does a "missing" figurine matter so much?

At times during the last two days, my was saying things as if he wants me to move to Toronto, and yo actually move into his apartment. I don't know if it's just him being playful (and somewhat insensitive to my feelings...), but I don't see how he can even propose that given that we're broken up... I sometimes really don't understand him at all, and he confuses me with such strange outbursts of cute names he started using to call me when we (officially) began going out. It's strange to feel this way, and he told me that it hurts when I tell him that the way he behaves around nowadays feels like he's playing a game with me.

Two more weeks and he will be gone, will have moved away to a different city. Two more weeks and it would become harder for us to see each other whenever we want to, whenever we feel the need to seek and find solace in each others arms.

Time will tell what will happen to us, if there is still an "us" to speak of. Time will tell whether the distance and time apart will break us or bring us closer to knowing what we mean, what we really mean, to one another in one another's lives.

A whole new beginning

2011-12-19T07:32:00.000+08:00

Sometimes you see signs, hints and clues telling you to move on. When the whole world is moving on, is changing and advancing forward, why don't you? Why can't you? "Keep calm, and carry on", as the British famously coined the phrase during the last world war to soothe the national fears and boost morale.So too must I be calm, look forward and just carry on as if nothing much matters.. Not the prospect of death, not the premonition of loss or impending fears of loss and uncertainty, not even fear itself matters...Carry on, move on, and take life, and the people you encounter in it, as they come and go...

it is done

2011-12-17T03:03:00.001+08:00

It is all (almost) over. Two, three days of long hours, yesterday, save for the hour and a half or so, I almost completely went without sleep. My ex came by to encourage me, despite the heavy argument we had earlier. He slept in my room while I worked. From one till three, a little break, then pushed on till eight, when he got up and made me breakfast. He didn't want me to do a thing, and even did the dishes (which he rarely has done). I was taken aback by what he was doing for me, despite the poisonous words I uttered to hurt him earlier, intentionally or not...

I feel like a complete zombie at this moment. This moment should be the happiest in a long time, but it just feels bland and mundane. I cannot even lift my lips to smile, to laugh, let alone muster the mood to celebrate. And I'm ill on top of this.

This is the moment I've been waiting and working toward for two long years, delay after delay. And it's finally come. Even my supervisor was pleased, and through the secretary I learned that he has been commending ny work behind me. It may explain why my supervisor has been so eager to talk to me about getting me involved in some projects...

Thesis is finished, work projects ahead... And yet my heart is heavy, and my head feels dizzy. The lack of sleep has to do with it, of course, but I think it's more than that... Even in the midst of treatment, even when she was feeling extremely unwell and sick, mum was encouraging and kept on saying how proud she was of me. That was very painful.

This thesis I dedicated to my mum, and there is a paragraph in the acknowledgements about her. It is for her that I've been working hard. It is for her that I've been staying up so late at night (even when she tells me it's so unhealthy to stay up late and not sleep...) I know this thesis is as meaningful for me as it is for mum. Because it is a life wish of hers to see me finish, to see me graduate, and hopefully to see me start something new and do something with my life.

And now it is done, all done. Yet deep down I feel so terribly, terribly empty inside. How I wish I could share my feelings with someone close...

Breakdown

2011-12-16T10:46:00.000+08:00

Breakdown

How did we get to this? All he wanted was offer me dinner on the eve of my thesis submission. But I rejected him. I said no because I don't want to have anything to do with him.

And yet I bring him fruits and make him fresh lemon juice when he's I'll... And yet I comfort him because his granny's health has deteriorated over the past few days. I can give him myself, offer to do things for him, but I don't accept him trying to help me.

What's wrong with me? All he wants to be is a friend, what we've always been, regardless of whether we're together or not. But I can't even do that. It seems as if I'm deliberately spoiling our friendship, or the remnants of it. For whose sake? I want to say it's for his sake, so that he can move away and resolve me... But he turned it around and told me, perhaps rightly so, that I'm doing this for myself because it's easier to just walk away and drop everything...

Perhaps that is true. I don't know. I'm just so confused and hurt. By myself, angry at myself. Hurt seeing that again I've made the one person I care about so much cry and cry and be disgusted with me. I don't want to hurt him... I want to hold him, reassure him that no matter what, even if we're apart, even if he's found the love of his life and genuine happiness, I can be there for him still as a friend, as a best friend.

Can I do that? Can I do that with no ill feelings, with no anger or jealousy, without harking back to how I make myself feel like he's abandoned me and left me for another? I don't know...

I'm so confused, so frustrated with myself. So angry at myself for making my ex, my friend, cry and cry. I'm so angry at myself for (deliberately?) wanting to ruin a perfectly beautiful friendship because I can't get the intimacy and romance I want...

Final few days

2011-12-14T12:06:00.001+08:00

Upon returning from Europe, I immediately began to work. It's hard, especially given that I'm sick and have a runny nose and sore throat. But it has to be done, I really have to push myself to complete my thesis, the deadline of which is in two days.

There aren't so many changes that I need to make, but the formatting, footnotes and bibliography is sure going to take a lot of time and effort. At least most of the research has been complete, and it's now more the mundane details to fine tune the 100+ pages to make sure it is presentable, and maybe even publishable.

My supervisor has ever been so kind and patient with me, and especially in these past few days, he and I have interacted much more. It seems he has a lot of confidence in me, and even though I've not yet fully completed or submitted my thesis, he has already called me to discuss future projects that I could be doing with me. That says a lot, especially coming from a professor of his seniority, and someone who is very respected in the field of space law.

I feel tired, and ill, but I really need to finish... Push myself a bit more, and then I can relax...

Distance

2011-12-14T11:44:00.002+08:00

It's growing between my friend and me. After my recent trip to his hometown, after seeing him so eager to be in contact with the guy he is "seeing", I have realised it's time to stop dreaming. At one point, he told me outright that what I'm feeling now he felt before too. I can't see why, maybe I'm just too self-absorbed to see why... did I make him feel like he needed to compete for my attention or care? Did I make him feel useless and lacking in value by messaging and chatting with someone else when I was in his presence?

None of that matters now. Two more weeks he has left in Montreal, and after this, life will be different. He will be gone, and the distance between us will grow even more. He will start his career, he will find his own life and happiness elsewhere, and I need to start doing the same for myself. I don't want to feel again and again like I need to try and try so hard to please him, to please anyone for that matter.

Nulla in mundo pax sincera

2011-12-13T22:07:00.000+08:00

Blando colore oculos mundus decepit
at occulto vulnere corda conficit;
fugiamus ridentem, vitemus sequentem,
nam delicias ostentando arte secura
vellet ludendo superare.

This world deceives the eye by surface charms,
but is corroded within by hidden wounds.
Let us flee him who smiles, shun him who follows us,
for by skilfully displaying its pleasures, this world
overwhelms us by deceit.

Exercise

2011-12-13T21:54:00.001+08:00

As mum had been saying that the weather is too cold to go outside to exercise, I posted a youtube video of an exercise routine that she used to do at home.I told her that even if she doesn't feel like going out, she can still get her daily exercises indoors. On top of that, I made a video of myself (and my teddy bear) doing the movements in an attempt to encourage her, and make her laugh.

"I tried to do the movements," she said, "But my bones hurt..." She appreciated the gesture, and she'll do what she can, however her condition is such that her pain really comes in the way of her moving or exercising too vigorously. My heart sunk upon hearing that...

Again, there was a silence in our conversation. Mum sounded very tired again. She kept on saying she wanted to go shower and sleep. It's about time yes, but in the span of five minutes, she said that three times, as if she was in a hurry to get off the phone. I feel there is something she is not telling me.

In my mind, mum was avoiding the topic. But I wanted to know, I needed to know.

Is it bad of me? Is it causing her anguish and reminding her of what ails and pains her when I can and ask how she is doing? Do I have a right to know? Maybe I should just call and pretend like everything is normal. Maybe that is the best way about it all... To avoid the topic, avoid the "C" word, avoid talking about hospital visits and doctor's appointments. Just talk about mundane stuff, talk about the stuff and idiosyncracies of life...

So I asked. I asked anyway... about her appointment with the doctor today, about what he said. "Nothing much," mum said. Things are just the way they are...

Treatment continues tomorrow.

Pains...

2011-12-12T22:26:00.001+08:00

Mum apologised. "Why? Why are you apologising?" I asked. We were talking about breastfeeding, about my sister-in-law who has been breastfeeding since my nephew's birth. Somehow, mum remembered that when I was still a baby, she only breastfed me for a little while and had to stop, whereas my brother was breastfed till he was many months old. "I had to go to work, and it hurt a lot to squeeze out milk..."
She said I once 'complained' about not having been breastfed--something I don't remember at all. She said she was sorry that she stopped with me, because breastfed babies are healthier and have a stronger bond with the mother. I laughed, because it was very silly what she was saying. Am I not (relatively) healthy? Do I not have a strong, beautiful bond with my mother...?

The weather has been so cold that mum went to the hot springs and enjoyed a nice lunch and afternoon soaking in the natural springs close to where she lives. She said she felt much relieved, and for a while her aches and pains went away, so was really basking in the temporary break from her almost constant physical ordeals. And she began, at her own initiative, to talk about her condition.

She went to see her main physician last Friday, and she complained that her elbow joints and the area under her armpits are getting very painful and sore. The doctor prescribed her a new kind of painkiller, a drug that lasts up to twelve hours, she said, compared to the one she used before which lasts only up to six hours. "It's the lymph node," she said, "When it hurts like this, it means that the lymph node is swelling." Which in turn means that it has become infected... Infected, most likely, with cancerous cells. All the doctor could do is prescribe painkillers, and in two days time, she will have her next chemotherapy.

Tomorrow though, she will go meet the neurosurgeon who first confirmed that her tumour had spread to the spine area. It's been almost four months since she last saw him, and she wants to have an assessment of her situation. Mum has been told that if her pains and sores get to the point where she cannot use her arm anymore, she must immediately call the neurosurgeon. On her fridge is a hotline that she must call, and surgery will be conducted within a day or two. Because when, or if, that time comes, the her condition will have become so critical that surgery is the only way to stop the tumour growing on the spine from causing permanent nerve damage, or even paralysis...

I thanked her for telling me. However sad I felt, however traumatised and hurt by the latest report of her condition, I can only accept. I bid her good night, and wished her a beautiful sleep... Because in those couple of hours, when she is in the land of sleep, there are no pains, no sores, no doctors, no cancer cells...

Pains...

2011-12-12T22:08:00.003+08:00

Silence

2011-12-11T22:23:00.048+08:00

The first time we properly spoke in a few days, and there were many silent moments. I kept asking mum if anything was up, but she did not say much, only that things are as usual. The weather has been cold because of a cold front, and she has not really gone out for some days. A friend invited her to stay over in the countryside and to have a soak in the hot spring, but mum declined. Not too keen on traveling, she explained. I told her about my recent trip, and at one point she said she was tired and wanted to sleep, so I said good night, and like always, told her to take good care, and to keep warm at night.

Later, my cousin and I skyped for a while (for she is preparing for an exam and interview in English, and needed to practise...). She said that last week there was a family gathering (which mum had told me about), and she saw my mum at the event. It was the first gathering of mum's immediate family in a long, long time, and there were a number of pictures taken to capture the joy and rare moments of being together. Six siblings, sitting at a table. Mum is the oldest of them all, and sat down, flanked on either side by her two sisters. Behind them are my uncles, mum's brothers. They had beautiful and natural smiles on their faces.

They have all aged over the years, naturally. Mum sat in the middle of it all. In some pictures there was a smile, in others she looked tired (or maybe she was just caught offguard?) My cousin said mum looked visibly thinner before she showed me the pictures. And when I did see the pictures, I noticed that too. Was it because I had the preconception that mum looks thinner now that I saw her as looking thinner in the pictures, or did she really loose weight? A week or so ago, I asked her how much she weighed, she told me she hasn't weighed herself for a while. A little afraid perhaps, but she did mention that she feels she has lost some weight.

Unexpectedly, seeing mum's smile, seeing her sunken face and grey hair, I started to cry... I know old age and death are inevitable in life, but despite their inevitability, they still cause hurt when you see it manifest on the face and hair of the one you care about and love dearly. Perhaps mum did not have such a good night, or perhaps she was tired from traveling to reunite with her family, but in some pictures, her tiredness can be seen. Is that the tiredness of traveling or not sleeping well, or the tiredness caused by something else? Five (or has it been six?) chemo sessions over the past ten weeks or so. That can wear anyone down, that can torture the human spirit, however strong minded and bodied someone is.

I cried partly also because I had the privilege of meeting and holding my nephew for the first time a few days ago. So far, three months after my nephew's birth, mum has only been able to 'meet' him and watch him from a distance. As much as my nephew's little moves and little noises keep my mum going, smiling and laughing, I know deep down how she would give anything to hold my nephew. Because she told me... told me how much she longs to see her grandson in person, to hold him in her arms... Imagine, just imagine, what joy, what beautiful, simple joy that would bring to mum's heart.

I cried because one day when I was alone with my brother, he quietly told me his fear, a fear that I too shared. "I'm afraid mum may not be able to hold [my nephew]" he told me.

Mum has grown visibly weaker over the last two weeks, and more chemotherapy treatments are planned in the coming months. How long can she hold on? How many pictures can I post on her facebook page to cheer her up and surprise her and make her smile and laugh...?

Resolution

2011-12-10T14:29:00.002+08:00

This will not last for long. It will last as longer as you let it last.

Break from the norm, break the clinging, break the longing.

Break free.

What did you expect

2011-12-08T16:55:00.001+08:00

I lay down to sleep, and I managed somehow. But in that twilight zone between sleep and consciousness, images came to me. Disturbing images that I cannot remember any more. I had an urge to go see my friend, who was two doors from me. So I crept silently toward his room, knocked gently and opened the door.

He was in bed, but on the phone. I knew immediately to whom. And I apologised for intruding on his conversation. All my desire to talk to him, to have a nice heart to heart chat with someone close was gone. I felt like I was intruding in his life, disturbing his quiet time with his friend (for lack of a better word, "guy he's seeing"), and perhaps it was wrong of me to come all the way here and be here. What did I expect? What was I even thinking?

But it was so confusing... just moments before, he was bedroom and he kissed me goodnight.

I guess what hurt was that before, even just a couple of months or so ago, I was the one my ex would be calling the last thing before he went to bed. But I'm not that person any more. "All change" as they say when the train reaches the end of its route, and something my ex and I used to say and joke about when his previous relationship broke down. It's just a little bizzare, and painful, that so soon those two words apply to us.

AMS-LHR-NCL

2011-12-08T02:32:00.004+08:00

A dozen minutes or so before landing at NCL. Within the next hour, everything I've planned over the past two, three weeks will be realised.

Will it all go according to plan, according to how I imagine it in my head?

How very exciting this all is. And in a way, how very romantic too. Romantic in the most general sense... In the sense that someone would travel so far, go through all sorts of trouble, go to all lengths just to spring up a wonderful surprise on you. Romantic also in the 'love' sense... What would you do to make someone feel loved and appreciated? A lot.

How far would you go to let them know you care? Far, far...

Recording

2011-12-07T22:47:00.024+08:00

I called mum from the airport just as I was about to board the plane from AMS to LHR/NCL. Perhaps as the airport wifi connection thins down the connection to Skype, it was not possible to have a conversation with her, even though I could hear her. In the end, I sent mum text messages to tell her that I'm taking the plane, and wishing her well. I always do that before boarding the plane. Paranoia? No, just in case...

Perhaps mum did not realise it, but she did not hang up her Skype when she picked up, and she inadvertently left me a "voice message". Nothing much really, just some background noise at first, some shuffling of (I guess pieces of paper), and then the TV being turned on. I listened to the recording, which lasted around five minutes. What was I listening for? I'm not sure... a 'view' into mum's life and what she does when nobody is around, perhaps? I felt like a voyeur, but of the audio kind, instead of one who likes to peep and secretly watch someone from a distance.

But somehow I just wanted, needed to know if there were clues as to mum's condition or how she is doing. There weren't any. Just the TV, some kind of talk show or economic analyst talking. About what I could not really understand, as the voice was muffled. Mum did not say anything.

Eventually the recording cut out.

My nephew

2011-12-07T10:31:00.003+08:00

I don't know what overcame me. I stood behind my brother and my sister-in-law, who were bent over the crib, laughing and tickling my little nephew. There were soft little giggles, and on his face was the clear expression of innocence and joy. I started to tear...

I looked away and blinked the soft, gentle shedding of tears away. Is there anything more important than family? Is there anything more beautiful than a couple playing with and talking to their newborn child?

I was touched. All the years of uncertainty in my family, all the years of facing illness and death, at last a sign of the beauty and irresistible energy of birth and life. All the travelling I did, all the little gifts I bought, all the hoping and expectations, and this was the reward... To see my brother and his family happy and safe, basking in the warm, gentle surroundings of a comfortable home, a loving cat, and love. What else does anyone need in life, what else does anyone ever want that is not already in this very scene that made me tear?

"Grandma doesn't want to come see you..." my brother said, teasing. I know deep down how much he would have wanted mum to be with us on this special day. On my nephew's first (Dutch) Christmas, on the day when miracles come true, on the day children are surprised with great gifts. Mum could only share our joy, and look at that empty chair next to me in pictures, and imagine herself sitting there...

"Grandma doesn't love you..." brother said, jestering. But in truth, and my brother knows it too, mum loves her grandson more than anyone can describe it. He is the reason why she learned to use Skype and Facebook, because she wants to see and hear her godson grow and grow every single day. Mum may not have had the chance to travel to see my nephew in person, but her love is expressed in her smile and laughter whenever she hears him gurgle and giggle, whenever she sees him exercising his arms and feet in his crib. Her love is expressed in the way she buys him towels, clothes and goodies and sends them by express air packages. And is not setting up a special bank account for her grandson so that one day, even when she is no longer around, he can go to university without having to worry too much costs, not another way of showing him how much she loves him?

My brother picked up my nephew, and sister-in-law played with his little arms and feet. I smiled at them with moist eyes.

How lucky I am to be an uncle...

How fortunate I am to share in the joys and wonders this little boy has brought to my family...

What really matters

2011-12-07T03:47:00.003+08:00

Friends may abandon you and fade away, lovers may leave and turn away, but family...
family always stay family no matter what.

Connecting with the past

2011-12-06T09:33:00.019+08:00

It was a very last minute meeting, nothing calculated, nothing planned. The thought of writing to him just came to my mind the night before, and I wasn't really expecting a response, especially to a sudden proposal to meet. But respond he did, and we met. On Sinterklaas (St Nicholas Day), the day, of all days, on which the wishes and dreams of children are supposed to be fulfilled. Pure coincidence, perhaps.

It's been about four years since we last met. And I proposed to meet at the same place where we first met on a date, outside the public library. At the agreed time, as I walked toward the building, I saw him lean against the wall lost in his book.

Quietly I called his name, and he looked up. I smiled.

Beforehand I had contemplated a bit on how to greet him. What is the most appropriate way to greet someone you met on two dates four years ago and then disappeared from your life until four years later you suddenly receive a mail from telling you for such a long time you have been on his mind? Do you do the traditional three kisses on the cheeks? I don't know why that seemed like a bizarre choice. Do I give him a handshake? It would have felt too formal, like a business meeting. And I think we are beyond that. So I gave him a hug. A big hug, and said in his ear it's been so long already. Nothing could go or be wrong with a hug. At least in my mind...

It was a little awkward at first, knowing what to say, getting used to one another again after all this time. For me, the initial awkwardness came from, I guess, trying to figure out who this person is and how he figures in my life. Reading his email, in which be confessed to thinking about me even after all this time, made me feel flattered, but at the same time scared. And a few weeks ago, I discovered that he began a blog, in which he wrote some entries about me, and how I touch(ed) and inspire(d) him.

It's not (I don't think) that he's been lying awake at night and hopelessly dreaming of what could have been between us had I not moved away months after we met. It's just that all these years, I didn't have a clue that our two dates left such a deep impression on him, and I felt responsible. Did I consciously go out with him and then let things just fade away because he wasn't interesting? No, it wasn't that. I simply had too much going on in my life, simply had too much to deal with, at the time we met that he, and whatever could have been between us, was pushed to the background.

He says he's grateful I was his first date. Not that we had anything intimate or physical, but at the very least just meeting me and getting to know (what little of) me sort of set the bar for the kind of person he'd like to find and be with. And for me... Who was he for me? I've been trying to figure that out since he wrote to me. It's not that I don't have any feelings toward him. There's something there, just how deep or how strong I'm not sure. Hard as it sounds, I really just don't remember how I felt back then.

The few hours we sat down and caught up on the missing days of our lives over the past few years went by so quickly. We spoke about changes in our lives, what we've been up to. And very quickly, it began to feel as if I was meeting an old friend and having a heart to heart talk. We spoke about relationships, exs, plans and hopes. And despite the hiatus of some four years, it felt like I was getting to know a good friend.

At one point, I steered the conversation to our first dates. Was it appropriate? I don't know. But at least for me, it felt like it was a topic we needed to touch upon to get rid of any lingering feelings and awkwardness.

As he and I spoke about our feelings and what our first meetings meant to one another, the bits and pieces began to be put together. And he grew on me again. There before me was a guy, smart, good-looking, well-spoken and reflective, with whom I know I could have something. But alas, fate and life did not grant us the time or opportunity.

What that would develop into, how long that would have lasted, I don't know. But there was, and in ways, there still is, potential. It felt disappointing to realise that, for I know two days from now I'll be gone, and who knows when I'll see him again (though I did repeatedly invite him to visit me, and he too invited me to visit him in the city he'll be moving to...). Two days from now, whatever feelings that have been rekindled, even if they are faint and uncertain, will most likely fade again as he and I go back to separate our lives.

It was disappointing because the distance and barriers between us are just too great (besides, he probably does not feel the same way I feel...). But our meeting also gave me a sense of hope. Hope, especially after all the complications with my ex and being left to feel abandoned and lingering in the background as he pursues a new relationship, that I can feel again, that I can meet someone and feel like I can move on. If my ex can apparently move on so quickly, then why can't I? Why do I feel like I owe my ex anything, when he is already out there pursuing (or at least trying to pursue) his own happiness? I can do the same, I want to do the same.

Meeting this guy from four years ago reassured me that I deserve something beautiful. I deserve to be with someone who can be with me fully, and not make me feel o need to compete for and win his love and attention. I do not need to always feel like the victim or feel worthless because my ex left me to go after someone else. I am master over my own happiness and the life I choose I lead.

We parted company, and he was a bit quiet, I was a bit quiet. How will this all end, I found myself asking. What was going on in his mind, I do not know, perhaps will never know.

Again, I gave him a hug, a tight and long one, the way I know how. He went his way, I went mine. For a moment, I stood and watched him cycle away. He probably had no idea...

Quietly, as his figure grew smaller and smaller, I wished him well, wished him happiness and peace. And the distance between us began to grow and grow again.

2011-12-05T05:32:00.001+08:00

Two days

Dream of a stranger

2011-12-04T21:24:00.001+08:00

I was pushed to the ground, and two three people stood around me, laughing, jeering and shouting abusive comments.

"Stop it! Stop it!" I said, and tried to pick myself up. I hugged my stomach in pain, most likely because one of the guys had punched me hard there.

As soon I managed to stand up, they pushed me and pinned me against the wall.

"Stop torturing me!" I pleaded. A number of arms grabbed my body and began to fondle me, touching me all over. I cringed and wanted to scream... But there was a hand covering over my mouth.

I looked into the eyes of the guy trying to smother me. I know him from somewhere. But I've never really spoken to him in person. Who are you? I know you, but only from a distance. Why do you intimidate me so much? Why are you torturing me like this? His smile turned into an evil snigger as his hand smothered my nose, my mouth.

And I bit. My teeth tore into the flesh around his wrist and I bit down. Hard. A gush of warmth and saltiness poured into my mouth and started to trickle down my chin. Red blood gushed and gushed, gruelsome to see, bitter and frightening to taste.

The guy screamed, out loud and in great horror, and pulled his hand away. The blood was gushing like a small fountain.

I stood there, blood stained and alone, as the guys fled. I collapsed to the ground and began to shiver... I felt so alone, so abandoned and was left to fend for myself...

My first long night of sleep in I don't know how many days. This nightmare occurred just as I was falling asleep, and it was extremely disturbing.

My first night spent in the home I lived in for over almost a decade or so, from the last three years of high school till I left for Canada (interrupted by three years studying in London). So strange that I should have such a graphic and terrible dream on this first night...

What does it all mean...?

Homecoming

2011-12-04T03:26:00.000+08:00

Homecoming
3 Dec

Not many know about my return home. My mum knows, my brother and his family know, and two friends also know too. And I asked them not to tell. As far as everyone else is concerned, I'm still home in montreal, going about my routine...

A main part of the reason why this trip is done in (almost complete) secrecy is because I'm saving up and building up the suspense and the curiosity till the day I surprise my friend.

Another is because I'm always wary not to advertise too much nowadays where I'm going, because people might just have the wrong impression of me. Yes, I travel a lot. Yes, I have the means to do so and don't have to think too much about money and obligations like work, but I travel mainly to visit family, and not to go on so exotic vacation and indulge in luxury. And to me that's always a reason to travel, or at least I tell myself so.

My brother insisted on picking me up at the airport. Not just in the car, but he insisted on going inside to the arrivals terminal to greet me as I come out. The last time someone did that was my ex, in Vancouver, and it is a welcome, wonderful feeling.

I saw them almost immediately, and they greeted me with a smile. My sister-in-law stood next to my brother, who had a little baby his arms. "Hello! Who's this?" I asked jokingly.

My nephew, my beautiful, beautiful nephew, whom I've only seen in pictures and videos. Now, for the first time, I was seeing and stroking softly on the cheeks for the first time in his life, for the first time in my life. My heart lit up in a way I never imagined possible. Right in front of, the source of joy in many people's lives, especially that of mum's. I smiled and stroked his thin hair while he looked at me with big, curious eyes.

I gave my brother an semi hug, awkward as he had my nephew, and I gave my sister-in-law three kisses on the cheeks. "Welcome home to Holland!" she wished me. I looked around the terminal building... At the big Heineken advertising in the distance, at the bouquets of tulips at the florist, the pungent smell of coffee in air, mixed with a cacophony of chatter in Dutch In the background. All these familuar sights and sounds of home, triggering memories of my youth and childhood to flood gently flow back. Home again, after a year and a half away...

Best of all, it felt wonderful to be reunited with family...

London calling

2011-12-04T01:26:00.001+08:00

LHR-AMS
3 Dec

What to do when you have two hours to kill at the airport? I guess you could wander around, walk all over the terminal building(s)... Or you could make a mad dash to downtown London and then back again. And I chose to do the latter.

I got off the plane, and was half expecting my ex to be lurking around. Luckily he wasn't. So I made my way from terminal 3 to terminal 1 (just do that I could 'disappear' off the radar and make it harder to track, if I was being tracked...) then to terminal 5 to get my boarding pass for my onward connection. It was on the train between the terminals that I got the idea. 15 minutes to downtown London on the Heathrow Express, which runs every 15minutes. So the longest it would take is only half an hour. I'd be pushing it, but i could do it. And there is one place I've been wanting to go back, and that's my alma mater: SOAS.

So i took the chance I had an hour or so from the moment I boarded the train. Heathrow to Paddington, change on the Hammersmith and City line to King's Cross / St Pancras, transfer on the Piccadilly Line to Russell Square. I know these routes off of my head. I can picture the colours and the tube trains and connecting stations.

So many familiar places, signs, buildings... The streets, smells, the crinkling and creaking sounds of the tube. A decade ago I went to London to study. And look at me now, ten years later. How far have I come? I felt like I've come full circle to be back where I was then, and that I've grown and matured so much...

How strange it felt to be standing in front of the very building I entered almost everyday for three years. There is a sign that marks the entrance to my university. The symbol is of a big green tree in full bloom. Knowledge and wisdom thriving through time. A school originally established to train diplomats and colonial officers at a time when the sun never set over the vast stretch of the British Empire. Today, it is a breeding ground for critical studies of the developing world, for staunch opponents of the existing (oligarchical and oppressive) economic and political world order.

Those three years spent at SOAS certainly stimulated my mind and thinking, fertilised the left leaning tendencies and great interests I take in the lives and affairs of the world at large, as seen from non western-centric point of views. There were banners and weather-worn posters on the walls and lamp posts on campus. Protests, activist movements were, and still apparently are, the norm at this little college in the heart of London.

I took a picture and quickly turned around. 10am. The gate closes at 1120. So I rushed, the same route back. I filed into the crowded tube station at Russell Square, waited for the elevator to take dozens of other waiting passengers 15 storeys underground. Luckily I managed to hop onto the eastbound train to Cockfosters before the door closed. I caught my breath briefly before I rushed and rushed up the long flight of escalators at King's Cross to transfer on the line toward Paddington station. 1010am. Train leaves in 10 minutes. If I missed it, I would be really pushing it with the time. I still needed to get through security, and who knows how long that will take.

1018... And the tube slowly, slowly pulled into Paddington station. Why does everything seem so slow when you're in a hurry? Why do I get myself into hairy situations (or perhaps adventures, however you'd like to see it...) like this, when I could have been sitting quietly at the airport terminal and just waited to board the plane? Even the check in counter man told me there's not enough time to go anywhere, and told me to just stay put and wait for the plane.

But I like a bit of excitement, I guess.. I want to do things that are against the grain and unpredictable, and totally crazy even, things when you look back will make you smile, and somewhat proud, and think: "Did I really do that??" I mean who in their right mind would go to downtown London and back in one hour just to pose in front of the university where they used to study? I would. And I did.

1019, I grabbed my carry on with my two hands, snaked through the crowd who were taking their leisurely time. Up and down the flights of stairs I ran, simultaneously eyeing quickly the monitor which displayed train departure times and destinations...

Heathrow... Yes! Heathrow Terminal 5. Platform 6. In 2 minutes. There the train was. I could see it.

I set down carry on, and let it roll. The four wheels grumbled loudly behind me as I dashed down the platform. Is this it? Is this the train? Get onboard. Just get onboard!

So onboard the train I jumped. And within a minute, barely with the time catch my breath, the intercom sounded. "Mind the doors, mind the closing doors. Heathrow Express to Terminal 5".

I was onboard. Sweaty, hot,out of breath, my heart racing rapidly, but I was finally on board. And in my camera were the classic shots of me and of a teddy bear posing in front of my alma mater.

Well done. Mission accomplished...

Hide and seek

2011-12-03T21:33:00.004+08:00

Hide and seek

Just prior to landing at LHR. Circling the airspace above heathrow for over twenty minutes already, and still waiting for permission to land...

I'm a bit anxious, to be honest. I don't know how it never crossed my mid until last night when I went to see my friend off at the airport that we would be arriving at London Heathrow at around the same time. He would be flying in from Toronto, whereas I would land around an hour or so later from Montreal. I have a feeling he'll probably try to reach me or even call me as soon as he lands, and when he does he'll get the message that my phone is off. Which may add to his suspicions that I'm flying. Maybe he'll just stand at the gate and wait for me to get off to surprise me...

If he does that, then so much for my surprise of showing up at his doorstep in a few day's time...It's been hard keeping this secret operation a secret. Inquisitive as my friend is, he's been asking lot of questions about what I'm planning, what I'll be doing while he is away. I've been vague, but at times, just to whet his curiosity and get him wondering, I've been dropping hints here and there. In fact, if he had to look carefully, on the calendar in his office, I had written "LHR" in red ink on 2 December, the day of my flight. And on a piece of paper he had used to explain to me the reasons why airlines charge different rates for routes, and how indirect routes are always cheaper than direct ones.As he likes to call it, I've been talking in "riddles and rhymes" and at times giving misleading signals about what I'm doing over the next few days...

So it'll be interesting how the next four hours till my onward flight to AMS pan out. It'll be a game of hide (and seek, if he's onto something and will try to seek me out...). I know he's inside the terminal building, probably walking around, or maybe waiting outside my arrivals gate to see if I'll walk off the plane. I'll have to be ever vigilant, and swiftly move through the terminal buildings unseen and unheard. One thing I can't do, which I've always wanted is go to the arrivals lounge, as I heard great things about it. But chances are, my friend might be there too.So I guess I'll have to spend the next few hours on the move, wander around the airport so I can't be traced or found. I mean what are the chances of two people bumping into each other in a five big terminal buildings with thousands of departing and arriving passengers and dozens of flights taking off and landing in the next few hours? We may be in the general vicinity of one another, but if I play it right, I can sneakily slip onto my connecting flight undiscovered...

It's like a game of cat and mouse, and I'm the mouse (literally, i was born in the year of the mouse/rat). It's a game, not just confined to a little board, but on a large, worldwide scale, involving planes, and great distances. And that's the excitement and fun part of it all...

Hiding and seeking, half way across the world, with boundless possibilities and places to hide. Great big and little surprises and clever strategies trying to outsmart the other person.

Oh, the devious plot is coming together...! It's so sweet and clever when things finally come together!

YUL-LHR

2011-12-03T18:32:00.002+08:00

YUL-LHR

Another flight, another night spent on the plane. I know I promised myself I wouldn't travel, but here I am flying away again...

At least the flight is pretty empty, and I can stretch out over two seats, and hopefully catch a wink before the five hours or so is up. I feel like I haven't really slept much over the past two weeks or so. Just rushing here and there, and at night working till late in the morning, either on my thesis, or over the last couple of days, on the special scrapbook for my ex's birthday. The lack of sleep, the tiredness and red eyes are all worth it, for finally i have (almost) completed my thesis and therefore also the degree I began over three years ago.

It means a heavy burden off my shoulders, and time to move onto something else... the tiredness, lack of sleep and red eyes are worth it also if only to see the beautiful surprise on my friend's face when he pieces together the little surprises and clues to realise what I've been planning (plotting!) all these months, if only to make him smile again, especially after a lot of hurt and pain I've caused him, especially what we've both endured in recent times.

Of course, I'm not just going to surprise him at his house. I'm also journeying to see my brother and his new family, and importantly see my nephew for the first time. How special is that.... I used to get so excited and become so touched by my godson, but imagine now I have a baby in my own family, a baby who is related to me, and in some distant way, a part of me.

This afternoon, I rushed to the bookstore to pick out some gifts for my nephew. At the baby section, I just grabbed these colourful and beautiful and cute books. I didn't even look at the prices, and just put them all into my basket. It ended up costing over a hundred dollars, but I didn't think too much of it...

Because it's for my nephew... Because I want him, even though I've never even met him yet, to have the best of everything, and since the day i learned if his existence, i vowed silently that I'll try and provide what I can to give him a boost in life (on top of what my brother and sister-in-law provide to him, of course.) Since my brother asked me the other day to pick out some English language books, I've been browsing online for them and getting excited myself by all the possible things I could get for him...

And soon, I'll deliver it all into my nephew's hands.

Rush, rush, rush

2011-12-02T21:23:00.000+08:00

Everything so last minute, so rushed. Trying to catch my breath, trying to find a moment of calm amidst the hectic moments of worry and insecurity.

I sent my friend off last night, and tonight I'll be at the airport again to send myself off. I promised myself I wouldn't travel until January, but a number of reasons "make" me now sit in the metro with two pieces of luggage on my way into school early in the morning. Or at least, they are reasons I tell myself can justify me Jetting away again...

My ex, even though he's my ex has so often expressed hope that I could go visit him at his home. And somehow, I feel if I don't visit him now, I probably will not get a chance in the future. I know the situation between us is complicated, and perhaps it's completely naive and foolish of me to travel across the globe to jut surprise him, especially how he's hurt me in some ways over the past few months and weeks... But he's special to me, and even as just a friend, I would do anything to make him happy and smile. I would (literally) travel the world to show that he means a whole lot to me...

Then theres my nephew, who turned three months, and yet I've not even had the chance to visit him. What a terrible uncle I am! Three days from now is sinterklaas, the Dutch Christmas, so what better time is there to pay him a surprise visit?

It will be hectic today. Need to drop off my suitcase at the office, then head to the hospital for a few hours of volunteering. then rush downtown to get some last minute gifts for my brother and his family. Then at around four in the afternoon I have a thesis meeting with my supervisor. After that, I need to rush to the airport to catch my flight.

So many things all at once! I'll be so relaxed and relieved once I'm on board the plane tonight....

Continuing treatment

2011-12-02T04:15:00.002+08:00

She sounded weak, much more than before. The fourth time already and how ma

Surprise

2011-11-30T12:09:00.013+08:00

Surprise 28 nov

I was confused. Dumbstruck. Suspicious. Too much happening suddenly too unexpectedly and all at the same time. I went downtown today, even though it was a Sunday, because my friend has been asking me to come help him pack up his things to move away. I sat in the office a while and waited and waited, and suddenly at six in the evening he rang me and asked me to meet him at his apartment. So I went, and another friend with a car was there too. Instead of packing things and tidying up his apartment, he went to get a Christmas tree from his storage space, and said we needed to be quick, as another friend was waiting for us at my place.Waiting for us? At My place?

To decorate the christmas tree? How come I'm only hearing about this now? I became suspicious and kept asking what was going on, but my friends were vague or elusive in their replies. Suspicious as I was, I also felt somewhat 'bad', because my house was a complete mess, as I've just been too busy with my work and the surprise gift for my friend I've been working on. And also because of my still healing thumb, I've not been able to do much housework, especially the dishes (not that normally my house is that clean either...).

And I felt bad also because i've been trying to invite this other friend to dinner at my place for a while now, but he never had the opportunity. And now suddenly i hear he's waiting at my door, whereas I have not much to offer him on terms of food...We loaded the car and headed to my place. Barely had we unloaded, this friend who was already waiting for us to head back called me and told me to go to the supermarket to meet him.I went to the supermarket, but was so eager to get back. I needed to cook and try to make my house at least half decent to receive guests, but for the next half an hour or so I wandered around the aisles with this friend who kept on looking at various products and telling me how things are cheaper where he lives, or telling me the ingredients of this or that foodstuff. I was very anxious. It took great effort to eventually drag my friend out of that supermarket, and if I weren't rushing home, he would have wanted to go to another store to look at prices...

Anxious I opened the door. My ex was sitting on my couch talking on the phone. I felt a bit hurt, as I assumed he used the time I was away at the supermarket to quickly chat with the guy he is seeing. It was only when I got into the kitchen did I realise everything come together.My dining table had been placed in the centre. On it were various foods and a chocolatey cake, and gathered around the table were my friends.

"Surprise!!!" It sure was one, but I still could not figure out why, until my ex pointed to the cake and drew attention to the fact that written on a piece of chocolate in white icing was my name and "space lawyer". It was all because a few days earlier, after much time spent slaving away, I finally (almost) finished my thesis.I was overwhelmed by the surprise and how so many people made the effort to come to my place (as messy as it is...) to shower me with wellwishes and congratulations.

I kissed my ex on the cheek when I realised what he had done to coordinate and clandestine organise all this. I was very touched, because just trying to get people to come together and do things clandestinely takes a lot of effort and time. I know that. "I hope one day I can do something like this for you..." I said. The irony was, I was also busy planning and coordinating a number of surprises for his birthday, and he managed to pull something off before me.The whole evening, we ate and chatted, and my friends wrote me a lovely card with all sorts of touching personal messages inside.

As happy and overwhelmed as I was, I later admitted perhaps it was all a bit premature, as my supervisor had not even reviewed my thesis, and being the oh-so-confident person I am, I wasn't sure whether what I have written was of good (or any!) quality.Together with a number of friends, we did eventually put up the Christmas tree to usher in the holiday season. This year, it will be the first time I'm really putting in effort to celebrate ever since I arrived in Canada.

And as the tree became more alive and colourful with lights and tinsels, I began to feel warm deep down inside and was looking forward to celebrate Christmas in the company of people I care about and love... At the time, though, seeing the tree also reminded me of how precious and how very fleeting those moments of being together, moments when all of us can gather under one roof, are going to become rarer and rarer as slowly people begin to move on in life, and move away...

That night, my ex stayed the night, as expected when we have gatherings at my place with our common friends. We lay in bed and chatted late into the night. Just friends, who used to be beautiful lovers. Just friends, between whom the intimacy and strong physical and emotional attractions seem to have been waning slowly. By choice, and I respect that choice, even though I cannot fully understand why, even though he tells me it's so hard to resist me.I leaned to one side and told him how lonely I feel at night, and expressed how strange it feels that within a matter of weeks, days all that intimacy has vanished. He told me not to lament what I don't have, but to treasure what I do have. He leaned over and stroked my body, touched my arms and hands, as if to prove the contrary.

True, I have a lot... Wonderful friends who would gather from everywhere to surprise me, I have a loving cat, a warm home and means to sustain myself and pursue my goals and dreams. I have so very much, too much perhaps that I do not always treasure or remember all that I have, or have had...

But I am human too, and I have been too deeply touch by love, spoiled by affection and attention that I yearn for it, that I at times suddenly wake up at night and lie awake for a while because i am afraid of the enptiness next to my bed.

My ex can tell me to treasure what I have, not miss what I don't have. Normally I would and tend to think like that, but coming from him, as well intentioned and genuine as the words were, it sounded strange. Are those the words of someone who has someone, who seems to have it all? Words from someone who has a best friend, a "soul mate" as he calls me now, in whom he can confide, and who also has a special someone he can sleep with and be intimate with at any time? I should just count my blessings, dispel whatever sadness I may feel looking at the Christmas tree that was put up in my living room, exorcise whatever beautiful memories of the way we were or potential futures of the way we may be...

But for once in my life, close to Christmas time, I feel a little sour and bitter that everything on the outside, all that decoration, all that tinsel, all those beautiful lights, is so wonderful, so magical, and yet on the inside there is a void, an emptiness that echoes deep with yearning and affection.But we can never have it all.

Nothing is ever perfect. The world is just the way it is. And it is, or you must see it as, perfect that way.

Pointless

2011-11-29T21:25:00.000+08:00

Mum sounded very tired when I called. It was twenty past ten her time, not too late, but not too early either. I had just woken up, and my phone was the first thing I grabbed.

Tomorrow she needs to go back to the hospital. It's been another two weeks already. The doctor said the cancer index declined, but not by much. It may mean that the drug is losing its effect, which means it may be pointless to keep on doing the treatment. It's just more agony and physical torment for mum to continue, if the drugs are not effective any more... And if they're not effective, what else is there left? How many more types of chemotherapy can she undergo?

"I'm so tired," she said, "I want to stop..." I didn't know what to say... Do I encourage her to stop, and run the risk of the cancer spreading and then eventually cause her so much pain and suffering before ultimately killing her...? Or do I tell her to continue with the treatment, to keep on fighting, to keep on returning to the hospital every two weeks, to get so weak and lethargic and exhausted...? What did I tell her? I'm not sure what I told her...
I really don't remember at all, so it must have been very unremarkable.

I think I told her to take care. I think I told her to hang on there. Not whether she should stop or continue, but just to be strong. How much do my words help her?

Hospital visit

2011-11-29T00:24:00.000+08:00

An elderly lady walked alone by herself down the long, lonely corridor. Yet with her softy trembling voice, the vacant hospital corridor, at least momentarily, did feel so lonely after all...

She slowly limped on her cane, yet instead of lamenting her condition, her voice filled the air with song and joy. Her beautiful voice, moving, heart melting, praised the lord, praised life... We should all praise life, praise the health we have and take for granted.

I walked with the patient I was accompanying today toward the taxi in silence. The hour long ordeal and the effects of the local sedation was a lot to bear. All I could do was be next to her, give her an arm to hold onto in case she gets too dizzy or faints as we slowly walked to her home in silence. Her eyes were still moist from tearing, for the procedure was extremely uncomfortable, unbearable.

Imagine sliding a long, thin tube down your nostril and into the air ways and pockets of your lungs. Imagine having liquids inserted into your lungs as the doctor conducts biopsies of "suspect" tissue. Imagine the gagging sensations, the numbness in your nasal area, and having a hard time swallowing even your own saliva because of the great deal of discomfort... Imagine it happening to you.

She entered her small one bedroom apartment, and sat down on a sofa. The place was cluttered, and on the sofa were all sorts of blankets and pillows. A fragrant scent hung in the air, the smell of an elderly lady. There were pictures of her two sons and their respective families, but they have long since moved away, leaving her behind. Even the husband abruptly left her, over ten years ago, due to illness. There were pictures of her in an impressive and colourful dress, with her face elaborately painted and made up. The lady explained she explained she took part in many Chinese opera singing competitions, and on one side of the living room were the award banners that proved her successes. She said she lived alone, and when she is ill there is really no one to take care of her, as her family are all on the West Coast.

While we sat and she talked a bit about her family and her life, she held onto the piece of gauze around her mouth which the technician had given her just before we left the hospital. She was small, and thin, and a few years younger than my mum. Occasionally she'd cough and was unable to speak more than a few words. I noticed the gauze was moist and stained with blood. Normal, the doctor explained, for they had to slice bits of the lung for samples. If she starts coughing blood, then she must rush to the emergency room immediately. And I told her if she needs any help at all, she can call me.

Softly, she asked me to sit, for she had something to tell me. The lady got out her purse and started getting out folded bills. "I can't take this," I said outright, "I'm doing this as a volunteer..." For free, not expecting anything in return, only wanting to give something for so much society, and this world at large, has already given me. But the lady would not stop shovelling the money into my hands. She explained how it was agreed that the community centre I volunteer at takes $5 whereas the volunteer translator gets $15. It's an incentive system they came up with to get more people to volunteer, which I personally find bizarre, because it's not exactly volunteering at all. But on top of that, she wanted to give me another $20 as a "reward". I was stunned, but she said she felt really grateful for all I've done for her...

She said not to argue with her, as her throat was aching and she was in great discomfort. So I didn't. I took the fifteen dollars, and placed it in my wallet. I smiled at her, but my mind was wondering which charity I could donate the money to. The twenty dollars I also took, not wanting her to strain herself too much from trying to do more persuading. I took the bill in one hand and with the other put it on the arm of the chair I sat on. She thanked me again and again and again.

I didn't wish to offend her, so a few hours later I called her to ask how she was feeling. I was relieved when she said she ate some congee and was resting. I told her about the money. She saw, she said, and protested, but I joked that if she insisted giving me money, I won't accompany her to the hospital anymore. She laughed, and again repeated how grateful she felt for all I've done.

What did I do really? A few hours of my life to help an elderly lady go get checked up... A few words and sentences translated so she knows exactly what is happening and what she needs to do while the doctor conducts the bronchoscopy... Told her not to worry to much, not to think too much, and reassure her that the procedure will soon be over... It's not much, it's what any fellow human being should do for any other human being in need, even if the other person is a complete stranger.

She was tired and physically drained from the entire ordeal. I sat on the side on a little stool as the doctor pushed the bronchoscope deeper and deeper into her lungs. Now and then, the doctor would give instructions, like to breathe harder, to breathe through the mouth, and I would proceed to translate so the lady could understand. She lay there for at least half an hour or so, writhing uncomfortably, breathing laboriously. It took a while before the sedation came into effect, for the nurse (clumsily?) poked her arm many times before a suitable vein could be found to administer the anaesthetic. This caused the lady much pain and cringed expressions on her face. I could only try to calm her from time to time by saying that the procedure will be over soon, and gently pat her on the leg. In her eyes were tears, from fear perhaps, from the discomfort definitely.

Once finished, the doctor took off his gloves and scribbled something on sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. They encountered some anomalies, he said, and further testing and biopsies are required to confirm what he suspects may be malignant.

I think the lady suspected it already, she expressed to me her fears the first time we spoke on the phone to make an appointment. A follow up appointment was scheduled for the next week, when more conclusive results will be available. She asked if I could accompany her, but I could not, for I would be abroad. And perhaps it is best that I am not there...

Weaker

2011-11-28T06:50:00.001+08:00

What's wrong with me now...? I thought I was strong, I thought I could get by and be over with all this mess. I thought I could do without him... My heart is empty and aching inside.

But today, for some reason, I long to see my ex. I want to spend time with him, as we used to do. But it simply cannot be. It simply is so unhealthy and I feel so weak...

Cut off

2011-11-28T04:23:00.001+08:00

She said it was a mistake, in retrospect. A three year relationship, and then two years as best friends. But those two years they were "together without really being together"... calling one another a lot, tell each other the deepest and most personal things in their lives, and at times sleeping next to one another.

"It stopped me from moving on," she told me. If she could do it all over again, she would cut off all contact for six months, or as long as it takes. Just cut off ties. It's better to hurt for a month (or so), then let things linger on. It's better to be lonely and feel that strong longing for a little while, then to be left lingering and wondering whether you will get back together again.

She told me I should move on, try to deal with the important things in my life. Imagine using all that time and energy I am 'wasting' thinking about my relationship with my ex, and how productive I could be if I could divert all that energy and time to something else... I feel it, and I fear it too. I too fear that I will be the one left alone and longing still at the end of the day, whereas my ex can (and has been able to...) get into another relationship and still be comfortable benefiting from whatever it is I am able t and willing to provide him as a friend, as a best friend, as an ex who still cares deeply about his wellbeing.

I care about him, and I think he cares about me too. But he left me, and now is with someone else. He tells me not to worry, to be patient, but at the same time, seems has that comfort and security of a relationship, whereas I have nothing. Do I not deserve better? Do I not need love and assurance and care, especially with all the things I'm facing right now? Why does he imply I should wait for him, when he is already out there and so quick to move on to something new, whereas I'm at home feeling miserable and alone?

There will come a point when I will just stop all this, and cut ties with the fetters of the past which has been holding me back for too long...

Departing for...

2011-11-27T22:20:00.006+08:00

I told mum I'm going away, but not details. The past week or so my mind has been tormented, and I just need to get away from

P.S....

2011-11-27T13:34:00.001+08:00

I saw only a little bit of the movie, but I could not continue watching it. I stopped at the scene where the recent widow receives a package containing the voice recording from her late husband. He recorded a message, knowing that he was going to die from his brain tumour. He wanted to surprise her, to make sure she continues living even after he is no longer around... He wants her to be happy, to find herself, to laugh and smile and dance and to move on, to live the life he could not...

And that was enough to make my eyes tear. Already fragile, for some reason I have been this way for the last week or so, I could not bear to watch the movie again, even though it is such a beautiful and moving movie. The topic is very personal... cancer, losing a loved one, and also losing the love of your life. The grief, the pain, the void left behind must be so immense, so very intense...

I remember when I watched it last, I thought to myself, if I were to be in a long and committed relationship, I would like to be the one to leave first... Because from experience I know I have great, great difficulty dealing with loss. Loss not just in terms of a person who disapears from this world forever, but also loss of a loved one who for one reason or another is no longer, or can no longer, be part of your life... Loss and grief are such powerful, overwhelming emotions that I just at times cannot grapple with...

I would like to be the one to go first, and I imagine, just like the deceased husband, I would make preparations for my loved one(s) if I knew my day was coming soon. I know I can be good at making secret plans, good at leaving notes and personal messages behind for people to discover. Because it touches me and makes me smile to know, to think, that someone will discover my little note or personal message and be warmed by the discovery and by what I have written. I touches me deeply to be able to touch people, somehow, in my own little ways.

And I hope my words, perhaps even my voice, or the small things that I leave behind, will continue to reassure my loved one(s) of my love, my eternal care for them, even after I am gone...

To you and me

2011-11-27T06:43:00.001+08:00

Be happy...

Be well...

Sunken

2011-11-27T06:18:00.001+08:00

I woke up groaning and shuddering. A dream left me heaving for breath and left my mind agitated for the rest of the day. I saw dad, the first time in months, or perhaps over a year. He was standing there, in the middle of town (The Hague was it?) waiting for me. He looked the same, wore this beige jacket he used to have, the one with a blue rim. He was looking for me, and what relieve dad's face showed when he saw me approach him in a hurry. There was his beautiful smile... The smile I still remember, the smile I can only remember, but will never be able to see again...

Earlier in the dream, I was at a store. A fish vendor's, where I remember I purchased some fish and shellfish. It was the shellfish that really tipped the balance (so to speak), and the grand total came to some 300Euros (another indication why it was probably in The Hague). I was shocked, even though I really wanted to buy it. Did I want to buy it for my dad to eat? I knew at the time dad was waiting for me, hoping to see me soon, and I did not want to disappoint him or keep him waiting. But I was anxious too, agitated. So much money just for a few grams of shellfish... was it worth. I was protesting to the vendor, but s/he did not really bother listening and said I must buy it. I must buy it because s/he already weighed it for me...

The next scene was downtown, the scene with dad. The very scene that made me wake up disturbed and agitated....

For the rest of the day, I felt like that. My friend eventually came to stay the night. But there was a lot of back and forth. I was making it difficult to get close. He just wanted a simple evening together, to fall asleep together like we used to do. But I was making issues out of everything, making him upset, making him sigh and loose patience with me. And it continued like that for much of the day...

I felt so down, sunken even, like my mind and my mental state are going wild and out of control. I could feel the depressing drag me. I could see myself being pulled down, down, down... I cried, my thoughts jumped from my mum's condition to the deep sense of abandonment since my ex left me... I felt my world collapsing, and that realisation dragged me deeper and deeper down into a terrible spiral of depression and self-pity. I felt I was so ugly, so destructive, so unpleasant and toxic to be around, and it was having a negative impact on my ex.

I asked him why he was still hanging around me... why he was still with me when he could be with the person who he is seeing, who makes him so happy and laugh? Why would he want to be with me, someone who makes him cry, makes him feel bad about himself and who wants to constantly, it seems, drag old things out of the closet and shake around and stir up a mess? Is it because deep down I'm a masochist who likes to wallow in pain and grief, and will not rest until everyone around me is brought down with me?

How selfish of me... terribly, terribly selfish of me...

But deep inside, I feel this growing, growing sense of loneliness and emptiness I cannot seem to fill...

It is done

2011-11-26T13:36:00.054+08:00

My ex tells me he is having such a difficult time right now, predominantly because work has not been going well for him. I tried to support him, to bring him little surprises when he is in the library, and sometimes sit around him so he can feel encouraged to work hard. But it does not seem enough.

Friday night, and we went to a friend's place for dinner and a little get together. All of us sitting around the table, and now and then he checks his phone, and starts to tap away. At one point he receives a call and had to get up and move to the next room to call.

Originally, we just wanted a quiet evening in with friends. And it somehow just turned sour. I know the problem is with me. Because I can't stand the fact that he is "seeing someone" and yet wants to do all the things we used to do, still be so close and intimate (though over the past week, the level of intimacy has diminished greatly...). If he is "seeing someone", why does he still want to come over to my place to stay the night?

I asked him what is troubling him, what is so wrong with his life. He went quiet. Am I pressuring him too hard? Am I being unfair to him? I am trying the best I can to be his support, to be his friend, but sometimes I question why when he is seeing someone? Isn't that someone supposed to provide all that love and care and support that he needs? Why does he still need it from me, the ex?

It may have sounded harsh, but I said to him if there is anyone who is sad, it should be me. It's been on my mind a while now, and I finally said it. He has this special friend he is seeing, and he has a best friend who tries and tries to cheer him up when he is down. He has the best of everything. Yet he is not content for some reason. Why? He has someone he can sleep with and fall asleep comfortably next to at night, and he has me who is so willing to help him and alleviate his pain and fears in whatever way... and yet he does not seem happy.

I know I make an issue of things, I know that I make life difficult for him by raising all these issues... but sometimes I feel like he just wants to laugh and have a good time and pretend that nothing ever happened between us, pretend as if everything can just go back to normal, when in fact he is causing a lot of the difficulties himself by wanting to be someone else and still want to keep me on the side.

Am I so selfish? Am I angry at him? Am I playing the bitter victim? I don't know... But how does he expect him to just stay around, and tell me that things used to be easier before, tell me that he misses the "old" me, when he suddenly turns around one day in the middle of our relationship and say he can't go on and wants to be with someone else? Sure I caused much of this mess in the first place, he tells me that,he reminds me of that... But how can you imply to someone that things were so happy before when someone has gone through so much hurt and a painful heartbreak?

I really don't know what he wants from me... I really don't know what he wants, what he is looking for. And he tells me it would hurt him if I just turn cold on him. But maybe that's exactly what I should do, as some of my friends have suggested. Just turn cold on him, just have less or no contact with him. Just let him be, let him be happy and unconfused in his new love affair. That would be less trouble, less worry for everyone, instead of going day to day having these ups and downs and pendulum swings of emotions from my side because I cannot control at times feeling so hurt and so disappointed by what is happening. Again, I ask the question... how can he be so happy, how can he just want to smile and laugh and go back to good ole times of just being friends and pretend everything is alright between us...?

proud of you...

2011-11-25T13:29:00.002+08:00

...and you should be proud of yourself (and of the lumpenbourgeoisie!)

Empty

2011-11-25T07:09:00.002+08:00

Suddenly I felt empty, and lonely, inside. Why? Why was i feeling this way? Why was I, perhaps, being made to feel this way?

My ex and I spent the night together. I surprised him with a prepared dinner at the library, where he's been studying and trying to get the first, and most difficult, chapter of his thesis done. He told me he's been having a challenging time, and how he felt really down, so I thought what better way to cheer him up than with a nice healthy meal and some company.

It was a lovely dinner, with soup, fried noodles, dessert and fruit. We joked and chatted, and it reminded me of those early days when I was working late in the library and how he brought me food a couple of times, completely unannounced. I remember being very touched that someone cared so much about me, cared enough about me to go through trouble of cooking for me. And now, I'm happy I can do it to him.

We studied a bit, and at the end of the night he said he wanted to do something light. Ended upat my place, where we watched some tv, and generally had a pleasant evening.

Bedtime. He wanted to sleep with me, or at least next to me. But I could not. I wanted to, longed to so much, but a part of me resisted because deep inside I felt it so "unfair". He's not with me, he's "seeing someone" (as he puts it...), so why should he want to sleep next to me? Why should he have the privilege of my warmth and my body when he can get all that and more from whom he's seeing? He left me, left me wanting, left me longing, in pursuit of his happiness, but why does he still want to maintain that degree of intimacy with me? Is not the guy he is seeing not enough? And besides, I cannot resist lying next to him from getting "excited" and wanting more than just lying next to him...

So we went to bed alone, and I slept relatively alright. Come morning he come to lie next to me in bed, but u shifted away from him, even though the smell of his body, the comfort of his touch and arms around me was too enticing. again, my mind was asking the same question... He just wants to go back to being friends because he's "seeing someone", but why does he still want to lie next to me and get into a situation where we both know is so beautiful, so wonderful, so fulfilling, and yet also confusing at the same time? He made his choice, and when you make a choice, you gain something, you lose something. Hopefully, we don't live to regret the choices we make, and hopefully, you gain more than you lose...

On the platform as we waited for the metro, I began to feel the loneliness simmer and develop. There he was, sitting right next to me. We were once together, not long ago, but now there is a growing rift between us. We had it all, we were happy, strong, beautiful together. At least for me. But now there is just this friendship that is being tested, there are these lingering feelings so strong, so beautiful yet which make me feel so wrong to have them, to indulge in them, because from what I can see, I seem to be the one who has these feelings.

I felt empty, but we will part ways, he will go do his thing, I will go do mine. At night I will go home, feeling empty, feeling like I once had something but now it is gone. And is he really happy deep inside? Is he really happy now he is "seeing someone"...? Does he know how much what he is doing to me hurts me, cuts me so deeply? I sleep at night, feeling empty and lost, I wake up disturbed and tired.

I wish I could just turn away, shut him out of my life, but he tells me again and again how that will hurt him... I need a break, or at least some kind of distraction.

Patient

2011-11-24T05:56:00.001+08:00

Just got off the phone with my second "client" (it sounds strange to call them that, as I'm just a volunteer...). I don't know why I was almost moved to tears.

She sounded like a lovely lady, soft spoken and a little worried about her upcoming appointment. She was nervous about missing the appointment, for it is an extremely important one, one in which she will do scans and take samples of her lungs. They found black 'spots' in them, and the fear is that it may be malignant...

Hearing that, I was moved. She reminded me a little of my mum, and part of the reason why I want to give up my time to help others... because I can't help my mum, at least I can do what I can to help those who need help.

Even though I was moved and almost tearing, I braced myself, and told her: "Please don't think too much. Let's just see how things go. Please don't worry too much." I hope my words reassured her, for sometimes, even though I've never met her, even though I don't know her at all, the words of a complete stranger can be comforting and reassuring.

"See you Monday," I said. And she was ever so grateful, even though I have not done anything at all yet.

50/50

2011-11-23T11:41:00.020+08:00

I can't remember the last time I cried so much at a movie. So very much at moments I had to take off my glasses. Not because the movie is so sad... but because it is so true, so very real.

The movie is (despite the subject matter) a comedy, based on the true life story of a 27 year old diagnosed with a severe and rare form of spinal cancer. It describes his struggle to face up to the fact that, even though he is a non-smoker, even though he runs, even though he lives a healthy lifestyle (except, perhaps, for the nail biting...), he may be dying. The chances of survival are 50/50, which as his optimistic friend tells him the odds are in his favour if he were gambling.

But cancer is not just about surviving. It is about having and living with the cruel knowledge that your days may be numbered, which may make you want to live life to the fullest, or make you want to die ever so quickly quickly and painlessly. Cancer is about fighting with life for life, about trying to escape despair and death, and about all the sickness, fatigue, lethargy, about throwing up over a toilet bowl late at night, hair loss, emotional anguish and fears that accompanies every chemo as you limbo and languish between life or death...

At one point, the protagonist locks himself and screams, and screams, and screams while banging his hands and head against the driving wheel like a madman. I closed my eyes and allowed the tears to flow so naturally, so effortlessly... Because I know, this invisible yet debilitating and often deadly disease has so much power over your mind, over your body that it is maddening... I've seen it in my mum, I've seen it in dad...

Numbness, anger, rejection, frustration, despair... these are things a shrink will tell you are "perfectly normal" emotions to have. The shrink will tell you to let them out, will tell you it's all part of the process of 'dealing with it' and healing. But the feelings, emotional pains and outbursts of a person faced with the knowledge that he may not be around much longer cannot be labelled, charted, categorised or noted in some scientific research for study and discussion. It is patients we are talking about, human beings with hopes and dreams, plans and promises made to loved ones. How can anyone possibly feel what the patient is feeling, let alone even try to comfort and console the person?

"You'll feel better and don't worry and this is all fine and it's not," the main character points out at one point. Do half lies hurt or help more than perhaps telling someone straight in the face the truth that you will die? Life and death, lies and the truth, anger and appreciation, being optimistic and being pessimistic... Often there is but two possibilities, 50/50 if you will, and it is up to you to choose to believe or indulge in either. "You can't change your situation. The only thing that you can change is how you choose to deal with it..."

Cancer is not just about the patient, for it is a dreadful illness that touches and hurts the lives and hearts of family and friends. The pain of a mother who has to see a child suffer is immeasurable, and having to see your loved one battle the side-effects of chemo and being so helpless to take away the pain and nausea is extremely testing and at times simply too, too much to handle. How can you help alleviate the suffering? How hard must you pray so that even the heavens and gods will be moved? How deeply and intensely must you make a wish so that the tumour will stop growing, stop multiplying, so that the emotional and physical fatigue on your loved one's face will simply, miraculously one day just go away..?

The many scenes at the hospital were simply too much for me to bear... The corridors filled with cancer patients and sobbing relatives, the chemo ward with faux leather armchairs and IV drips, the intimidating CT scan machines, the colourful mural and paintings in vain attempts to brighten up the drab heaviness of the cancer ward... Even now, as the images replay in my head, I am brought to tears. Louder now that I am away from the ears of the faceless public, sobbing more visibly now that I am away from the concerned, sympathetic eyes of my friends (especially of my ex...).

Why did I become so emotional? Why did tears just flow and flow and flow seemingly incessantly whenever I saw the cancer ward with its pale patients with bald heads? Why did I start trembling when the doctor pointed to the picture of a large lump pressing against the spinal column? My face became soaked and salted, my nose kept on running and sniffing. I had to swallow hard and grind my teeth together to numb the pain the images invoked inside...

There was only one word that echoed...

Mum...
Mum...
Mum...

The spinal cancer in the movie reaches a point where surgery is the only option. An extremely risky operation, that if unsuccessful will have severe consequences on the patient's chance of recovery and survival. It was a movie, but all too real, all too close to my heart. In those final moments, as he sat in bed and said goodbye to his father and mother, I just could not continue watching. I rested my head on the wall, closed my eyes and cringed. It simply felt like such a raw premonition of what may one day happen with mum...

Would I make it home to hold her, hug her, to tell her I love her so very, very much no matter what happens? Would I be able to hold my tears in? Would I be able to calmly sit and wait, and wait, and wait for the surgeon to come out and reveal the news...? There were no answers but just tears, the incessant, liberating yet painful feel and flow warm tears streaking down both my cheeks.

The movie was not just the (perhaps much dramatised and sanitised) story of one young man and his fight and triumph against cancer. It was, despite my tears, a beautiful movie, and, again despite my crying, one I do not regret watching. True, touching, perhaps somewhat too Hollywoodistic in some of the portrayals and the ending, but still beautiful and very accurately depicts the life, struggles, conflicts and precious little moments of bonding and laughing that cancer patients, family and friends go through on this difficult, difficult search for recovery and hope.

However illusive the search, there must be hope, however hopeless the prospect of recovery, there must be hope. Because without hope, what is life worth living for, what is life worth dying for?

Perhaps some will watch 50/50 and laugh at the hilarity of some of the situations in this self-proclaimed comedy... indeed, in the face of adversity, if you cannot laugh, you will just cry.
Perhaps the movie will also touch people and make people realise what really matters in life, something few people ever really realise because they do not face death, because they consciously or not choose to close their eyes to dying. Life is not just moments of laughter and happiness, even though we must never forget how to enjoy precious little moments. Life is about being with the people you love and care about most, about standing together and standing strong while trying to pull through those tough and testing lessons. Life is about family, friends, and treasuring those precious moments together.

Because sometimes, all too soon, all too suddenly, all too unwantedly, the people who matter most in our lives may at any moment be taken away from us.

Operation Surprise Visit

2011-11-22T23:44:00.002+08:00

OK, I have to admit being naughty and writing something that is not completely true.

Truth is, I have been planning to pay a surprise visit to my friend while he is back home in Europe. In fact I have been in touch with his parents trying to arrange something without his knowledge. And just yesterday, despite having shamelessly asked if I could visit and stay over for a couple of days, I was surprised to hear from his mum that I am always welcome.

So as soon as my friend booked his ticket (with me sitting by his side, looking down and saying things like "Oh, how great you're going home..." or "Oh, I so wish I could come along too..."), I went to the side and started to check tickets. I know, it's completely devious and evil for misleading him like that... Slap me, deduct karma points from me, but I'm doing this to build up to the big surprise, which I hope will be so funny and memorable when everything comes together and goes according to plan! I'm doing this to cheer my friend up, and give him a special something for his birthday (besides another surprise gift I've got planned...)

And I did book my flights the very next morning. It was a good deal, just under seven hundred dollars, compared to some thirteen hundred, which is what I paid for when I booked my flight to go back to Europe around Christmas time (I'll cancel that soon...)

I've got it all planned out... fly home to visit my brother and my newborn nephew for a few days, and just in time for Dutch Christmas (Sinterklaas). Then, head to my friend's place and ring the bell (I'm hoping perhaps the parents could try and keep him at home that day...) I'm staying two days, and then on the last day, I'll be on the same flights as him and we'll fly back to Montreal together. Remember, I was right there and noting the times and dates of his flights when he booked his trip, so I know exactly what his itinerary is (and he rarely changes his plans...).

I'm smiling now, at the cleverness and clandestineness of the plot I'm hatching together with his parents, who have been ever so supportive and cooperative. Soon we will see how it all works out...
And I look forward to that moment when I'm standing on his doorstep.

Trip

2011-11-22T14:24:00.040+08:00

My ex kept on persuading me to go to Europe. Kept on telling me how cheap the tickets are at the moment, and how I'm always welcome at his parents' place. And as he was purchasing his ticket home, he asked if he needed to buy one or two.

I was tempted, very tempted. But I'm so tired of traveling, of flying around. It's just been too much what I've done in the past couple of months, and the idea of boarding another flight, of sitting there in the cramped cabin for a few hours, was simply too much to bear.

If you had asked me sometime ago, before I suddenly decided to go back to see my mum, before the relapse in her condition, before my friend began to "see someone", I would not hesitate going to visit my ex in his home town. He has told me so many things about it, and I've imagined many times walking down the same streets he walked down when he was younger. I have always imagined how great it would be meet his parents again and to get more sense of where he comes from. He came to my homes (Taiwan and the Netherlands) on three separate occassions ever since we met, but I have not even visited him once in his hometown. And I feel I owe him something.

But there are just so many factors that make me somewhat uncomfortable and apprehensive about going to visit him at this time. Not just because I'm so tired of traveling, not just because of the complications between us now, but also because I have a deadline for submitting my thesis, and also I'm somewhat afraid of leaving the country and wonder if I can return here, since (after two and a half months already!) I still don't have my student visa... And besides, if I went to Europe without going to visit my brother and his family, how disappointed they would be if they found out. But I simply do not feel like I have enough time to squeeze in both visits...

I told my friend that I simply can't, not at this moment, even though I am so very tempted by the prospect of just hopping on the plane and visiting him. He was disappointed, and for a couple of days have been dropping hints here and there to persuade me to go. But I really don't think I can, even though in my mind, I imagine suddenly showing up at his door... In my mind, I imagine the surprise and beautiful look on his face when he sees and realises what I have done to go see him... In my mind, I imagine the excitement of going all this distance and to show him how special he is in my life, and to show him what I would do to make him happy. In my mind, I imagine the 'cleverness' I feel when yet another secret operation is realised, and what wonderful joy it would bring to my friend, and to me.

But, as much as I would love to, I really don't think I can...

Midnight visit

2011-11-22T13:23:00.003+08:00

What am I doing? Eight minutes past midnight, waiting at the metro to go downtown. To go see my friend and try to cheer him up.We've just spent the last half an hour or so on the phone. He seemed so eager to want to talk, so eager to want to see me...I ask myself why, why he would like me to keep him company when he is "seeing someone". Isn't that someone whom he's seeing supposed to comfort him, hug him, give him all the love abd affection that transcends everything I, as a mere friend, could possibly give him? He said he has been feeling very down lately, and that he was under the impression that I'd go see him and spend some time with him tonight, even though I really wanted to finish off the two missing parts of my thesis. But seeing him down, I could not bear it. Even though i question myself why im rushing to his place so latr at night. I've done things for friends before, and he is more than just a friend. Besides, not that I'm trying to 'return the favour' but in the past he has so often just got dressed and showed up at my door unannounced when he senses (or reads on my blog) that I'm down or sad.

Tonight, it's just about two people who mean a lot to one another. It's just about one person going to see another because the other is down. It's just about two friends and the happiness and joy and laughter that can be shares when they are together.

draft thesis (almost) complete

2011-11-21T19:23:00.003+08:00

There are still bits missing. The beginning and the end, but at least after almost two years of working on it on and off for two years, I'm almost done with my current masters thesis.

Yesterday/today, I worked on it almost twelve hours straight, from 5 in the afternoon to a little before six in the morning. I know if I put my heart and mind to something I can accomplish a lot. And I proved to myself that that is true. And it's been such a long long time since I had such a sense of "achievement" (even though I know I'm not quite done yet...).

I felt proud seeing all those pages of words, some 37000 in the body and some 20000+ in the footnotes! I'm sure there are probably lots of typos and glaring mistakes, but that can all be improved on in the coming weeks before I submit. I'll need to send a copy to my supervisor, who's been waiting patiently for me to finish.

But first I must share the news with someone who matters, someone who's been behind me and supporting my on and off endeavours to finish my thesis, and thereby degree.

My mum.

Sick...

2011-11-20T22:52:00.001+08:00

Mum said she threw up yesterday. Twice, no less.

A friend of hers, eager to introduce to her a dietary supplement that is supposed to suppress the growth of cancer cells, gave her two bottles of red raspberry extracts. Mum was told to take some twice a day, and apparent someone managed to get rid of the cancer completely after taking the supplement.

At first mum was alright, but come afternoon, she said she felt more and more unwell. Bloated she said she felt, and she just had to throw up. It was much better when all that she ate came out, but that meant also just two days after her latest chemotherapy, vital nutrients were wasted. And given how little she seems to eat now, she may be losing weight as a result... It was very disheartening to hear that.

Mum mentioned that when she was here in Canada, I fed her a lot of raspberries (and all sorts of other berries). She still remembers that, and said that with fond memories. It was quiet a scare, mum said, and her friend was terribly apologetic. She really did mean well, and wanted to introduce to mum something that would improve her condition. Many people have tried to show mum what she should take, but not everything is suitable. It's true raspberries contain a lot of antioxidants, but that doesn't mean every kind of supplement is a 'miracle' cure.

And again, second day in a row she spoke of her wish to travel. Seeing my nephew, seeing how beautiful and cute he is just tempts her to just pack and leave all the treatments and hospital visits behind. But she knows she can't just do that. "I can't just stop the treatment again, like I did last time," she said, recalling when she stopped her chemotherapy to travel with me to Canada earlier this Summer. "I really need to rest after the treatment is completely over to allow the body to recuperate..."
Maybe... maybe I pushed her too hard, and was too eager to take her traveling back then... Maybe that's why she has to go back to her treatment again...

"I really wish I could travel," she said, "But I don't know when I can..."

I don't know either. But I sure do hope soon. Soon, soon...

Couple

2011-11-20T15:06:00.001+08:00

The evening I spent with two friends who recently became an item. It was fun catching up, as I've not seen one friend since he moved away around a month ago. We were just chatting, sharing stories from our lives and laughing.

It was nice to see them together, and I know for my friend it's especially special because it's his first real relationship. It's hard, because of the uncertainties surrounding their getting together and because they now live in different countries. But there seems to be this beautiful spark between them, in the way they interact with one another, in the way they are close and intimate, even in front of others.

I told them, together and separately, how I'm happy they found one another. I look at them give each other kisses, head-buts, holding hands on the table. It's so romantic, so very cute. And I admitted to them I was jealous of what they have.

"Your time will come," my friend said and placed his hand on my shoulder, "You of all people I know deserve that special someone..."

I was touched.

"I am here for you"

2011-11-20T03:05:00.001+08:00

Just got another email from a friend living far away.

I'm not sure how she sensed what difficult period I am going through, what emotional mess I'm in right now, especially as we've not been in touch for a long time. But reading her short but very touching note made my heart warm and well up with emotions. I don't know how how she seems to know how I am feeling deep down inside, but her words reassured me that even in the face of adverse conditions, even in the face so much uncertainty and things falling apart in my life, I can pull through. Pull through and be the strong, determined and capable person she has always known me to be-- the person she is so proud of knowing, so proud to have befriended. But little does she know how precious she in my life, and how she has pushed and helped me in so many ways. Even to this day, from far, far away...

"You are helping her more than you could possibly imagine. Your love for her is [...] helping her through her pain and suffering" she wrote. And at the end: "Do not forget to take good care of yourself, too."

That's what I do too rarely, and I really must take more care of myself.

sleeplessness

2011-11-19T14:33:00.008+08:00

Feel so lonely in bed tonight...
Why am i so sensitive? Why do I feel so raw, so vulnerable, as if my heart is exposed to the elements and onslaught of emotions? Not even losing a loved one to death compares to this hollow emptiness inside...

Plea

2011-11-19T14:16:00.001+08:00

"Can I go travel again...?" she said, with such hope and desperation, "[I] so much want to go travel again..."

Mum was telling me about this travel show she was watching, which was on Barcelona, a place where she came to visit me while I was doing a summer course there back in 2008. It was her first trip after dad passed away, and particularly memorable. For her, it was the Gaudi architecture that was inspiring, and the food that was so varied, colourful and tasty. She recounted restaurants we visited, including this one which we found out only when we were about to leave happened to be a Michellin star restaurant. "Such beautiful memories..." she said, and excitedly talked about how she and her friends used to travel to Europe every other year, taking different routes and exploring different parts of the continent by train.

Then she expressed her wish to travel again... As much as I hope she can do that, the reality may be different now because of her condition. As much as I would love to show her more of the world, or revisit memorable places with her, deep down perhaps she knows too that it will be a difficult challenge...

Still, I told her, we can go somewhere when she has finished the current treatment. But deep down inside, it felt like I was telling a lie to placate her, a lie you tell to a little child because you don't want to go into the details of why it is that certain things cannot be done, just to make her feel better, even though taking her away from the hospital, appointments, doctors and needles is something I would give anything in the world for...

Painfully sore

2011-11-19T13:11:00.000+08:00

I came clean to mum and told her the truth. As expected she got worried, but with the knowledge that it is at least nothing serious, I dared to tell her where I was earlier today. I felt 'bad', and I needed to tell her.

She suspected something was up when I was up so early and already dressed and in a rush to leave. I guess you can easily tell if someone is hiding something, even if it is on the phone. So I told her I went to the clinic to get checked up by the doctor. Mum sort of scolded me for biting my nails, telling me off for still having such a bad habit and look at what it's causing me. She remembered that I had something like this before, and said she also developed something similar on her toe before. Once the nasty liquid pus is emptied, then the pain will go away.

I started to cry softly. And I told her exactly what had been on my mind... This is perhaps the most excruciating pain I can remember having, and yet she has to face pain and soreness everyday. She told me to 'watch' the pain, to meditate on the pain and watch the pain come and go. She goes through so much pain, and yet she is still there to comfort me with what minor and temporary pain I am experiencing.

"How brave you are to cope with this daily... How brave you are..." I can only imagine her pain is much, much worse, much more intense. I could not control my tears, even though they were silent ones, and luckily mum was not online to see my cry and wipe my tears. Why am I so weak? Why was I crying? She does not cry in the face of greater pain, mum does not cry facing the uncertainty of whether she will be around tomorrow... Mum had no idea I was crying, no idea how often on the phone with her I end up crying.

She told me not to think like that, not to think too much. The words and expression of love of a mother. But it's the way I am, however counter-productive and however negative I am as a person, I cannot control my mind having flashbacks of her lying there cringing and tearing from the pain. Really, there is nothing more excruciating than physical pain, pain gnawing at your nerves, pain throbbing like a part of the body is going to come off. And one of the worst feelings is to have to watch her suffer unbearable pain and be unable to do anything about it...

I apologised that I lied, but she was understanding and more concerned whether I have medicine to take away the pain. Why is it that the one who has just finished a heavy chemo treatment to keep her tumour under check is comforting the crybaby with a minor swollen thumb...?

Longing

2011-11-19T10:13:00.019+08:00

Friday night... a long and painful day.
Sitting at home trying to work, but my mind is distracted, my hand hurts...
And somehow my mind drifts to my ex...

The day began in his apartment, where I left in a strange mood. But suddenly now I miss him, want to see him. Is it the effects of the drugs taking control of my mind? I don't know, because I rarely take any of these antibiotics or painkillers....

Before, I would just pick up the phone and call my ex. For a chat, or just to see his face... Just not to be and feel alone. I don't want to be too clingy, to be too needy, because there is nothing more unattractive than a needy person, an attention seeker, and I have vowed to myself many many times not to become that person, and to always be an individual who is not afraid to be by himself... (maybe it's too late, for I am such a person...)

As much as I think about him, miss him for some reason or another, I must learn to deal with the loneliness and his absence... I must learn to resist the temptation and ease of being able to just call him up and have him over. Because I sometimes get the feeling he might be bored with me and feel like I am troubling him, being dependent on him too much...

And yet at the same time, with the day of his impending move away from the city, in some ways I would like to spend more time with him. Because if not now, then perhaps we won't really have a chance in the future to just get together whenever we want, to just call up each other and seek each other out, regardless of what time of day it is. That is definitely something I will miss dearly when he moves away...

Again, I don't want to feel too clingy. And I somehow sense he has his own plans already for the evening which I don't want to intrude into... Why would I want to intrude into his life when he has someone, and perhaps at this very moment may be intimate with that someone while I'm at home left feeling so lonely and so full of longing?

I'll just have to suck it in and tell myself that these feelings will pass. I cannot depend on another person for happiness or comfort, because one day, any day, it may all be taken away. And look at how this is making me feel right now...

Excrutiating pain...

2011-11-19T05:18:00.005+08:00

The pain from my ingrown thumb nail is unbearable, I have really never felt anything like it. It's a throbbing pain that stings my nerve endings, that immoblises my right hand, and makes the back of my head ache from cringing and from trying to bear it with all my willpower... But at times the pain is so dizzying I feel I could collapse and faint...

They say there is nothing more acute than physical pain (maybe a heartbreak, but pain of a different type and degree...). Pain that you cannot control, because your body is trying to tell you something is wrong. And luckily I've rarely had to deal with physical ailments... until two days ago when the swelling suddenly and unexpectedly began. Pus was collecting, and the skin above the cuticle of the thumb was being stretched to abnormal proportions. That was probably the cause of the pain... that the this feeling of feverish warmth and burning sensation mixed with constant throbbing pain. The pain is so bad that I had to go buy painkillers, something I've never ever done before (in fact, I didn't know how or when to ingest them...)

I really have to stop biting my fingers, because as someone told me today, I brought this all on myself... All that gnawing and biting, chewing and attempts to peel back thin layers of the nail as far as possible into the flesh... Is it a thrill, a form of self-mortification, an expression of my nervousness? I do not know. But I know I am suffering as a result of it right now...

I cannot even bend my thumb and seem to have lost control of that bit of my hand, whereas it is the bit that hurts the most. And because it affects my right hand, I can't perform simple tasks like just opening the bottle of antibiotics I have been prescribed with (embarrassingly, my colleague had to do that for me...) The doctor told me to soak the numb in warm water and try to squeeze the pus out, which I did. And when it happened, much of the tension and pain was released. Out oozed this smelly yellowish, thick liquid that just kept on coming out. And where there used to be inflammation was now just stretched old skin covering blackened clots of blood. It really is very nasty to look at, and horribly smelly. And now I am left with a heightened sense of pain that makes me cringe and want to cry. My friend warned me I have to be careful because too intense a pain can cause fever, and he even offered to escort me home. Is it going to get worse before it gets better, I wonder...

And this is just the pain from a nerve ending at the tip of the thumb. Imagine the pain mum has to bear with her nerve and spinal cord being pressed by the tumour? Imagine that pain, if the pain I am feeling now is already so very, very unbearable... How brave my mum is, how very, very brave I could cry if I just think about now...

Pain, pain... now I know personally how it can paralyse your daily functions and fill your mind with agony and dizziness.

Lying

2011-11-19T00:32:00.001+08:00

I had to lie this morning to my mum. I was up at 7.30, and all dressed up. Though she could not tell that my clothes were wrinkled and the same as the ones I wore yesterday, she did comment that it was the shirt that she bought me when we were traveling in BC during the Summer.

To the question why I was up so early, I made up that I had to go see someone... And when she pressed me for whom, I said my professor. In truth, I needed to get up early to go see the doctor about my swollen thumb, which has caused me much pain, distress and sleeplessness. I didn't want to tell her I was going into the clinic, because otherwise she would get all worried. And having just finished another chemotherapy session, the last thing she needed was worry and stress. So I would rather hurt my own karma by lying than causing her worry...

The doctor said it was nothing too serious, and the swelling was the result of an "ingrown nail", which in turn is probably caused by some kind of infection that got into my gnawed finger nails. Terrible habit of mine I've had since a child, which does not seem to stop... And actually, I've had very similar swelling and pain before in other fingers. All that needs to be done is let the pus somehow get out of the skin, and the swelling will go down. I was much relieved, and left the clinic with my first prescription for antibiotics. For the next days or so, I'll have to soak my thumb in warm water to let the skin soften and try to get the pus out, which should relieve the pain and cure my swelling...

While at the doctor, I told her about my poor quality of sleep. She said I should exercise more, get my body to be physically tired, and not just mentally tired, so that I will rest better. I told her about all the dreams I have, all the thoughts that are going on inside my head, and she just said it's nothing to be alarmed about, rather physical exercise and longer sleeping hours will improve my sleep quality. No drugs or pills can help me, just good rest and a relaxed mind.

That's good to know.

Sushi night

2011-11-18T21:25:00.001+08:00

Last night we had a sushi party, partly to celebrate the (brief) return of a friend to the city, and partly as a last (?) get-together before my ex moves away at the end of the year. It was fun to see all the friends gathered, and to laugh and bond over lots of good food. Making sushi was great, and earlier in the day, my ex and I went down to Chinatown to buy lots of ingredients to make sure the evening was a success. And it really was.

It's been a while since we last organised an event together, and I kind of missed cooking together. The excitement of drawing up a menu, the hours standing around in the kitchen chatting and preparing food. It was like old times... It really felt like old times, just laughing, joking around and getting tipsy on good wine and food.

Then suddenly at one point, my ex's phone rang. He quickly went away to chat, but I could hear laughter on the phone. It was his friend. And again, I began to feel really uncomfortable being there, at my ex's place. Why would I feel like that? Why does it matter if he is just talking to a friend? I guess it's all because it's the whole reason the evening felt like old times, but was not. The intimacy, the subtle touches and pokes of one another's bodies have become awkward. I want so much to touch him, but dare not for fear of rejecting and coming on too strongly... for fear of making my ex uncomfortable. Is it really just me who wants to do all those intimate things? I sometimes get the feeling he can miraculously just switch off his feelings, and I have been relegated to someone he has something with, but can now let go off... Just a feeling, just my feeling...

Why am I lamenting? I never did have an entitlement to be my ex's partner, and he is free to be with whomever he wants, to speak to whomever he wants to speak to. I don't own him, I don't have a monopoly on his care or love or affection. He chose to be with me at one point, then he broke it off so he can find himself. And now, six months down the line, we still find ourselves in the uncomfortable limbo of being less than lovers, but more than friends. That balance is difficult to adjust to, and moments when I see my ex talking so sweetly on the phone to his friend, I just freeze, and ask myself what I am doing exposing myself to this kind of hurt. It would be better not to see all that. How would he feel I I started to chat sweetly with someone right in front of him, or have to excuse myself during get-togethers just to have a chat?

So the rest of the evening, I was friendly, but a little distant. And when it came to bed time (as it was so late already...) I said I wanted to sleep alone. Not to punish him or anything, but I just felt I would sleep better alone, and I needed to be alone. I insisted on sleeping in his living room, but he offered me his bed, and somehow for a while we both ended up sleeping on the floor in the living room.

I twisted and turned on the floor and could not really sleep. My head was spinning from the alcohol, and since two days my thumb has been swollen and filling with some kind of puss for some unknown reason just above the nail. The pain was throbbing and unbearable throughout the night, and I could only lie there trying to calm my agitated mind but to no avail. My mind was so unsettled, and there was an awkward silence between us for a while. I knew he did not sleep for a little while, until I could hear his breathing next to me...

The physical pain from my swollen thumb, the hurt of having to witness yet another episode of my ex's chats with his friend... I lay there until the early hours of the morning and only managed to fall asleep for two hours or so...

Come morning, I left his apartment early to go to the walk-in clinic to have my thumb checked. Just before leaving my ex lay in bed and said he is trying to understand why the climate of a wonderful evening somehow suddenly took a change...

I too am trying to understand. And I cannot.

Turning away

2011-11-17T21:14:00.006+08:00

Sleep was so terribly disturbed last night.

My ex came by and we slept next to one another. No "funny business", just talking and a bit of soft petting. At one point he turned away, like he always does right before falling asleep to face the wall. I was still talking, about something 'heavy' that's been on my mind...

Earlier he mentioned that someone he knows is planning to move abroad with the person who he's dating. A 23 year old who lives in Paris. And who has cancer. Survival rate is fifty-fifty...

It just came as such a shock to me... Imagine what that feels like at such a young age... Imagine what the partner must feel like. And it made me wonder, out loud, in bed, what it would be like if I were to have cancer one day...

"The scariest thing is being alone..." I said "It's important to have support..." support, love, care, or just a simple touch from someone who cares, can do wonders. I see it with my mum. But I could feel my ex twitching next to me, and hear his soft breathing. I'm not sure he heard what I said, which was kind of disappointing. He was tired and it was late, so I too turned away from him, and curled up, like I always do, in a foetal position, and tried to sleep.

But it was hard... And for the entire night, even if I'd sleep for a little while I'd wake up feeling so very alone, even though there was someone right next to me. And not just someone, but the one person I thought would make me feel complete and warm. Instead, for a while, I felt so empty, and felt like there was a void that nobody can understand. At one point, I decided to turn my entire body around, to sleep at the foot of the bed. Somehow that helped and I fell asleep for a bit...

But not before a myriad of thoughts went through my mind. Why am I tiring myself, torturing myself with someone who cannot or does not want to give me the depth of love and affection i need? Nothing to do with him, but me...

Why do I feel I need to constantly prove myself worthy of being loved, worthy of his love in particular? Why do I feel like I need to have assurance from my ex, who has told me again and again he doesn't want to be with me (at least not now...)? Why am I the one who seems to be making the moves and who wants to touch and kiss him all over, when he seems to have lost interest? I need to stop. Really need to stop dragging on this limbo that has been continuing for too long. How can I sleep next to him and feel so empty of feeling inside? That's very telling.I too will turn away, like I turned away and turned my body up side down, and soon will wake up from this fantasy.

another treament

2011-11-16T09:46:00.017+08:00

Has it already been two weeks ? Two weeks since the last treatment already?

Mum went into the hospital early, and so my attempts to reach her in the evening were in vain. She was the second patient to arrive at the chemotherapy ward, and so the nurses attended to her quickly. For three hours or so, she dozed while the drugs flowed into her veins. Another treatment, another gruesome few days of tiredness, lethargy, loss of appetite and at times sleeplessness, especially on the first day. It's a painful and repetitive cycle that lasts two weeks... You become weak, slowly, slowly recover your health and your appetite, and before you know it, it is already time to return to that artificial leather arm-chair in the basement of the hospital for another dose of drugs that will make you weak, from which you have to slowly, slowly recover... The only good thing is that mum said she notices the drug she is using now does, at least for a day or two, reduce the soreness and pain in her back and arm.

That must mean the drugs are helping, right...?

That means the cancer cells are dying and the tumour will be reduced, right...?

That means that she will recover and be healthy again, healthy enough to travel and do all the things mum wants to do, right...?

Imagine, a month ago, I was there, standing by her side. A month ago, I saw her cringe and saw the discomfort on her face, in her eyes, in her tear drops... And now where am I? Refuging in the relative comfort of the familiar surroundings of my own life, far, far away... It feels like I'm hiding behind a selfish cloak, escaping the harsh, harsh realities of mum's illness with all the distance and time lag there is between us...

I hear it, the echo of the word "deresponsibilisation", a word a friend has said I'm guilty of doing often when I want to shrug off responsibility for potentially unpleasant consequences (albiet, in other contexts, and not in this particular matter...)

Mum said she lost appetite almost immediately, and when she went for lunch, she ate only half a portion of fried rice. Partly because it was too bland, but partly also because she just could not eat anything anymore. She said she took the rest of the meal home. "For dinner later".

My heart cringed hearing that... one meal, a bit of rice with probably some measly bits of vegetables (and I imagine shrimp, because that's her favourite type of fried rice...), spread over two meals. If I were there, I would rush to the market and buy fresh ingredients and try to fix something that I know will be nutritious and that she can eat. Just the fact that I made the food is enough to 'force' her to eat more than if she were by herself...

Another treatment, another critical few days during which mum will be at her weakest...

May she be well...

Surprise

2011-11-16T04:16:00.005+08:00

Surprises are exciting and fun, especially when you least expect them.

They take time and effort, but when everything comes together, the reward is the ability to touch someone and show them how dearly you care about the person. I love making surprises, and love the warm feeling inside when I make someone very happy... whether it's a surprise for my mum, or for a friend, I love to see the smile (and sometimes tears) on someone's face when they are surprised. It is priceless... it is beautiful....

And in the coming weeks, a number of beautiful surprises are being planned...

Crash

2011-11-16T00:51:00.001+08:00

In my sleep, I was transported to my aunt's house. There, lying next to me was a high school friend of mine. We lay next to one another, and I asked him a question I never dared ask him, and he told me the answer. The next moment, we were naked and began to touch each other's bodies...

Suddenly, we were separated, and I was out somewhere with two strangers. I believe it was a bookstore, where I was frantically browsing through the shelves looking for a gift for someone. I think it was for my nephew...

Then, I saw a plane take off. It was a large plane, belonging to an airline I often take. Upon take off, the plane plunged head first into the sea. The entire aircraft dived into the water, and broke into several bits. The crash was horrendous, and though I did not see any dead people, I don't think anyone survived...

...who said dreams have to have anything do with one another or make any sense at all?

Decline

2011-11-15T12:54:00.001+08:00

The doctor called my mum "stubborn", and mum responded that it must be due to her "O" blood type (which I also have, so I must be stubborn too...). There was laughter in mum's voice, which told me that she and her doctor were just joking around. As busy as the doctor is, he sometimes does not forget to make a joke a two to cheer his patient up.

The "stubborn" comment came after the doctor mentioned that mum doesn't really follow his recommendations and has been stopping and starting her treatment at will. Which may explain why the tumour has grown bigger, and why her pains and soreness has worsened. Last time, back in June, mum told the doctor she wanted to stop her treatment so she could go travel. At the time, she had been undergoing chemo (and later radiotherapy) for almost six months straight. The tumour was under control, but not completely gone, and the doctor was not too keen on stopping. But stop the treatment she did, and we traveled together...

Now, after all the trips we've made together, after all the wonderful times we shared, mum is back to the same chemotherapy as she had six months ago. Was it worth it? Was it all worth the pain and struggle of going through another couple of weeks, months, of treatment in exchange for realising mum's dream of traveling? I hope so. I sure hope so...

The latest test results reveal the cancer index has dropped by "a dozen points", mum said. I pressed her for a figure. "I'm not going to tell you," she said. But I guessed, and I think I guessed right, and that it should now be somewhere in the 30s. Still high, but at least it has dropped significantly, which means the drugs seem to be working. I was relieved, and I think mum is too.

"Take care, mum," I said as we said goodbye, for now. Even though the cancer index has dropped, there are many more long days and nights ahead...

Slippery slope

2011-11-15T09:15:00.000+08:00

Somehow, as the day wore on, I felt the frustration creep up...

I went into the office today and felt so exhausted I had to just sit down and take a nap. It was over half an hour later that I woke up and began to work.

My mind was not focused at all, and drifted left and right... To my ex, to the confusing mess we fond ourselves in... Then to my mum, to what she told me earlier today, and to the fact that she is heading into the hospital again for treatment...

Last week, or in fact for the past two weeks, I've enjoyed this strange sense of calm, a calm as if I could not be disturbed or shake by any outside disturbance. And yet today, increasingly I notice my mind going wild and tainted with thoughts and worries again...

I need happy thoughts, happy people, happy distractions....

Progress

2011-11-15T06:15:00.001+08:00

For a few days now, I've been merging a number of documents I've written over the last two years. Notes, quotes, odd paragraphs here and there that eventually (hopefully) will all come together and form a coherent argument, and eventually, the body of my thesis. I hope to have a draft done by this week, so I can show it to my supervisor and get some feedback before submitting the final version. I do feel like I'm finally progressing somewhere...

Speaking to mum earlier today, she said she spoke to my uncle, and it was getting hard to make out what he was saying. His tumour is growing on the lymph gland on the neck, so if the cancer is progressing, it will affect his speech. My cousin asked my mum to talk to my uncle, to try and persuade him to return to the treatment. But mum confided in me how difficult it is for her to do that. For one thing, she herself is undergoing treatment, and she knows fully what chemotherapy can do to the spirit and body of a person... "If he has chosen to stop the treatment, then we must respect that..."

I do wonder how my uncle is feeling right now... Is he afraid? Is he filled with dread and perhaps even regret, fear or perhaps even anger? I wrote to him sometime ago, tried to encourage him, and hoped he can "see beyond" life, "see beyond" death. It is all very easy to write about, but when it comes down to facing death who will have no fear...?

With time

2011-11-14T11:12:00.000+08:00

My friend (the ex) and I spent almost the entire weekend together. Friday night, he came over to my place to have dinner and watch a bit of tv. We had lovely evening overall, just chatting, like we used to before, something I think both of us thoroughly enjoy. In these moments when we are next to one another, talking about our lives, laughing and joking, reminiscing and thinking back to good old times together, it felt like there was no one else in the world but just he and me.

At one point, we talked about our futures... What we'd like to accomplish, what plans we have when we have stable jobs and settle down. Funny thing was, I never realised that he had a dream of one day owning a B&B somewhere, most likely after retirement, just to have something meaningful to do. It is also a big dream I've had, especially when I was younger I stayed at various B&Bs with mum on our travels, and have always had this romantic notion of welcoming travellers from far away and making them feel at ease and at home.

To be honest, I don't know whether he was talking about his future, or our future together, because at times it seemed ambiguous. For me at least, for some time, perhaps since we officially became an item, or perhaps even long before that, I had dreamed and fantasised about building something with him... Little steps, living together, getting a house together, having children and pets... Fantasies of an over imaginative daydreamer, perhaps, but I've thought about it often, and at times think of it still.
But I sometimes have to remind myself, we are no longer together, and all this could be just idle talk and, as beautiful and wonderful as it all may sound and appear, may never be realised...

Overall we had a wonderful weekend together, though here and there tensions would flare (at least I sense it, or perhaps even cause it...) when I see him eagerly eyeing his phone and tapping away ( to I presume is his friend). At some instances, he excused himself to go chat with his friend, and I was left there feeling abandoned and somewhat insulted... It felt as hurtful as when, about a year ago, he came to my place for dinner, and at one point locked himself before closed doors to videochat with the person he has a love interest in.

Again, the feelings of confusion and awkwardness returned. He tells he again and again he loves me, and cannot let me go. He assures me that nothing will develop with the other person because of various reasons, one of which is because my ex's love for me is so strong... He tells me to be patient, to give him time and that one day he'll return to me one hundred percent... But right in front of me, with his calls and exchanges of messages, he hurts me and disappoints me time and again.

It makes me wonder why is my ex with me now? Why is he spending so much time with me, why is he talking to me so much? Is it because he feels pity for me to have left me and somehow wants to make sure I'm alright? If he has such a great time with his friend, why doesn't he go spend time with him, instead of be so intimate with me?

Spending so much time together, at times I'm unable to resist the temptation of touching his body, holding his hand... It just makes me sad and disturbed to feel that perhaps I'm just deluding myself again and again that there is something there still between us. It just makes me doubt myself, doubt whether I'm hurting myself by spending so much time with my ex, especially when I see him so eager and so often checking his phone for messages (from his friend, I know), and trying very poorly to hide it from me.

I told him at the end of the night, he can sleep next to me, only because he wants to, not because he feels like he has to. Sleep next to me because he wants to be with me at that moment, and not because I'm readily available there and then, or (worse) because he has no other choice that night.

I know it sounds so harsh of me to think that or to even say that. But somehow we have come to the point I'm made to feel that way, despite a lot of assurances from my ex that he still loves me, that he still dreams of a future with me... Who am I really to him...?

I hope I'm worth more than just someone he can turn to for intimate hugs and touches, more than someone with whom (he says) he can sleep so beautifully next to. I do hope our history together, and regardless of whether we have a future together, is more than just a comfortable and convenient arrangement, and that deep down inside there is really something true, something real, for both of us, and not just for one of us.

But am I being so foolish to continue allow myself to melt in his arms, too weak tocontinue to be swooned by the touch of his body and to find comfort and warmth lying next to him... or do I just move on? How much do I want to be with him? How much is it wait the wait or the hope of some kind of future together...? I could easily just gradually, gradually cut reduce contact with him, and the feelings will hopefully fade with time.

With time, everything fades... right?

Volunteering

2011-11-12T04:49:00.001+08:00

As we said goodbye, I patted the elderly man on the shoulder. "Take good care," I said, and my little pat underlined the depth of my well-wishes. In his eyes, I could see that he was touched. In his eyes were the slight shimmer of gratitude. Seeing that, I was touched...

I've always wanted to volunteer, something I used to do regularly when I was in high school and undergrad studies. Ever since I arrived in Canada, I've done odd jobs here and there, all of it at the community kitchen at university, but I'm more interested in working with people, especially the elderly and immigrants. A week or so ago, a friend's mum referred me to a service centre for the Chinese-speaking community in Montreal, and I went to put my name down on the same day. It was so much easier than expected and than what I've encountered before, because a lot of volunteering opportunities require me to give references and to have a background check, which is very off-putting. I just want to do something to help someone, I just want to give my time and energy back to society.

So I met this elderly man at the hospital early in the morning, and he was accompanied by a female friend of his. Both are (mainland) Chinese in their seventies, and though they've lived in Canada for a long time, neither speak good enough (or any...) English (or French). This is where volunteers like me come in! Basically, my role is to accompany the person to the hospital and translate during the consultation or examination by the doctor.

It was my first experience at a Canadian hospital (though I've been before recently), and so everything seemed foreign and new. I walked around and had to find my way in what felt like a maze of corridors, corners and hidden rooms. As always, hospitals are never cheerful places to visit, and I walked around with a slight smile on my face to greet the many patients who passed me by. To each and every, I quietly nodded and wished them well and they may soon recover from whatever is bothering them, or at least not ...

Eventually we managed to get the necessary blood test done, and also see the doctor at the designated time of appointment.The man had an accident a year and a half ago, in which his left foot was run over by a car. Ever since, his foot and lower leg clots easily and can become inflamed, which causes him much discomfort and pain. For some time, he has had to rely on shots daily to thin his blood to reduce the clotting, but still he is almost constantly in pain.

We sat in the corridor and waited for a few hours. I quietly listened to his story, and to the female friend tell her story. Everyone has a story, of where they came from, why they are here, and what they have done with their lives. Perhaps that is why I've always enjoyed listening to and spending time with the elderly, for they have such a wealth of experience, and somehow are so "cute" and endearing in their little own ways. Being with the two reminded me much of how I used to spend days with my grandma (my dad's mother) and how I used to take her to the hospital daily for her shots. I think back to those days with sweet nostalgia...

The man lives alone, in a little room above a restaurant in the noise and bustle of Chinatown, sharing with three others. I was told that he has a daughter somewhere, but he said no more about that, and I didn't ask more. At one point, he showed me his wounds, and told me details of how he has to deal with the pain, soreness and numb sensation, and I could not but feel such warmth and compassion well up inside me. For lunch, he took out a small bun, and munched on it. Before doing so, he even offered it to me, and apologised that he could not give me anything in return for my help. Seeing how little he ate, and how little nutrition the bun contained, I wanted to buy him something at the cafeteria, but he politely declined.

"You should eat well and have a healthy diet," I said, out of genuine care, even though afterwards I felt perhaps I was a out of line for saying that. Maybe I sounded condescending or even rude, especially telling an almost complete stranger I have just met, especially saying that to someone who is old enough to be my dad... But strange as it seems, in the brief moments we spent together, I began to care. It really is not difficult to care about a fellow human being.

Was it because he reminded me of my own dad...? The way he looked, the way he smiled, the way he smelled... It all was very touching, and I enjoyed every moment of our few hours together. Momentarily while I sat next to this elderly man I had just met, I was brought back to those few opportunities I had of accompanying dad to the hospital so many years ago... And somehow, long after that memory was made and buried, I was reminded of a letter I once wrote to dad's main physician. Was I so touched today because I was doing something that I never had an opportunity to do after my dad passed away? Accompany a lonely old man to the hospital, helping him feel less lonely, helping him feel like he still matters, feel like someone cares... That is a special something, something that did not cost anything, something that actually made me feel so good and beautiful inside.

Throughout our time together, he thanked me again and again for taking the time out to assist him. And again, as we parted, he thanked me for taking the time out to accompany him for those few hours at the hospital. I smiled, and said anytime he needs help, he can ask for me. As I patted the elderly man, and the lady, on the shoulder, I quietly thanked them for giving me the opportunity to feel good and kind.

Quietly, I also thanked him for giving me the opportunity to again accompany a man to the hospital, and for allowing me to relive memories of my precious few moments with dad...