Brother's check up

My nephew climbed around me, shrieking with innocent joy and laughing so loudly and happily. There is an innocence that is so invaluable, so beautiful, so admirable, and nobody and nothing (except perhaps by growing older...) can take that away from him. I watched him play, and looked at my brother sitting on the same chair that mum used to love sitting on. My brother saw my face become sad, and asked: "What's wrong?"

 Nothing is wrong... Everything is fine, except I envy my brother, for he has a family, a beautiful child. These can mean so much at difficult times, and can add to the joy and bliss in happier times. When he goes to sleep at night, he is surrounded by his wife and child. Of course, married life and family life is not without problems, and I should not idolise his life for I have little to complain about... but really, at night when I am alone in bed, I sometimes find myself reaching out into the darkness, reaching out for human companionship and a warm body to comfort my tired, tired body and wounded mind and soul.

"You really should pay attention to your health. Look at him laugh and play..." I said. My brother came home after an entire day at the hospital for a very thorough body check up. A lump was found in his intestines, too small to be of worry, but still, it is a lump. Otherwise, his weight and layer of fat around his tummy is the greatest cause of concern, and the doctor told him to exercise more and loose some weight. Moments earlier, my brother held his son and they rubbed their cheeks against one another. My brother kept on asking his son: "Did you miss daddy? Did you miss daddy?" The baby giggled so happily and shrieked. It was already half past ten in the evening, but still seeing dad for the first time today made my nephew somehow so high. That was so moving and beautiful to see.

"Two people are dependent on you now, so you really have to be more careful," I said, "So really, take good care of yourself..." I hope what I said didn't sound like nagging, and I do hope my brother heard me and is more alert. Because what he has, as I have told him a couple of times before, is so precious, and he should take better care of himself so he can take better care of his family for a long, long time to come...

Mum's birthday

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

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

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

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

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

" A-ma,

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

Loving you,
Xxxxxxx"

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

Touching moments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Musings on a rainy night

Just finished my studying for the night, and the time is a little past one in the morning. Rain is dropping and falling outside, splashing against the window with a melancholic echo. It has not stopped raining for two days...

For the last few days, since mum hired a 24hr carer to stay with her at the hospital, I have been visiting mum significantly less than before. Two hours, perhaps two and a half hours at most, in the evenings, when  I would go and have dinner with her. The rest of the day, I'm at home, studying, or trying to study, and trying to fight off wandering thoughts and fatigue.


I went to the hospital with brother in the evening. I was so lost as what to bring mum, and I really want to cook her something healthy. But she keeps on insisting that her carer will buy food from outside, and that the carer will know what to eat. Even so, I feel kind of guilty, as if I am "neglecting my duties"-- duties I have been shouldering for the past four months almost...

The other day, I brought mum some fish soup and little fish spawn, which are rich in protein. From that, a congee was made, and I served it warm to her for dinner. She gagged and vomited some stomach fluids upon smelling the fishy smell. My brother sat there and complained that I am feeding her things that make her vomit. I retorted: "Well, you cook for her then!"

There has been simmering tensions for a couple of days. While I'm busy studying, I still have to wonder what to bring mum to eat, what to cook for her, and worried about her wellbeing, whereas my brother watches tv all day, and visits mum for not more hours than I do. And mum has complained to me in private that when he visits, he sits there and plays his little games on his phone or touch-pad. Maybe that is his way of showing how he cares...

The other day, mum expressed her frustrations to me. It has been two weeks since my brother and his family returned home. I can count the days, perhaps even the hours, they have been to the hospital. To be fair, they were struck down by a bad cold last week. But since then, my sister-in-law and my nephew have been away in another part of the country, whereas brother is here, but hasn't really done much. In fact, the first week they were back, I hardly felt any difference, for I still had to stay at the hospital every single night until three days ago. And to think, before they arrived, I was consciously telling myself to "step back" and let them take over! To think, there are moments when I am so tempted to do something for mum, but just wait and wait to see whether my brother will notice that she needs help...

There is a reason behind my outburst at my brother earlier on. There is one thing he does well, and that is to sit there and talk about what should be done, but he does not seem able to raise a finger. I told him on several occasions since his return that after I am gone, it is up to him (and his wife) to care for mum, and to make sure that she eats well. "I don't know how to cook...", he says, "I don't know what to do and how to take care of her..."

"Well, learn!" I tell him, "How do you think I coped over the last couple of months?" Not to mention over the past three, four years everyt ime I was back here. Of course, mum's condition is much worse than before now, much worse than ever before, but still there are basic things he can do to make mum feel cared for, make her feel appreciated, and make her feel like his presence makes a difference. And I asked him rhetorically, "How can you two not manage to do what I managed to do on my own here in the past few months?"

I know I should not judge other people's standards with my own. But really, how difficult is it to go visit mum at the hospital, to talk to her, perhaps have a happy conversation about happy things? Why is it so hard to see when mum is in pain or discomfort and to massage her feet and arms whenever she scrunches up her face or groans? Again, I cannot judge my brother (or sister-in-law) for what they do (or do not do...), for as someone said to me (and without wanting to toot my own horn....), it is hard to live up to what I do for mum. But I just wish there were more interaction between my brother and mum. I just wish brother would take more initiative at doing something, instead of just sitting there, watching TV or playing games on his phone (admittedly, I did that too sometimes when I was at the hospital for long, long hours...).

No wonder mum is getting frustrated. She told me frankly the other day she needs rest and a peaceful environment to recover after she returns home. What she does not need to deal with is tensions or having to deal with bad attitude. And since what happened in Europe when she visited last year, she has been utterly disappointed and disheartened by my brother and his wife. So she already has preconceptions about what their presence here can bring, and she is not really enthusiastic about them staying here for the next two months or so. In fact, I have repeatedly tried to tell her not to have any predjudices against them, for what has gone by in the past is in the past. I have repeatedly tried to put in a good word for them and told mum they genuinely want to spend some quality time with her and do "something" for her, and I told her the importance of giving them a chance to prove themselves, before it is "too late". But mum seems unpersuaded. And my brother's behaviour (and sister-in-law's absence) since their return does nothing to improve mum's impression of them.

Ten more days, and I will be leaving. It is scary, and very sad, to think about that... Ten more days. How long I have been here already! How slow the days and minutes seemed to pass at times, but it is now already four months since my arrival, and I am soon to leave here. What is there still to do for me? What is there still for me do organise, to plan, to put into place before I leave?

I'm not sure how things will be without me here, but it will just have to be. Have I not done enough? Are my brother and sister-in-law not older than me, both by four years, are they not parents already? They should know best how to take care of someone, and how to be attentive to the needs of someone under their care.

I just hope that when I am gone, they will all manage to find a way to coexist, and that my brother and his wife will both find a meaningful role to play in the crucial stage of mum's recovery at home. I just hope that, as I imagined it, as I dreamed and hoped for, that this big effort to bring everyone together will not be ruined or soured by conflicts, tensions and frustrations.

For what a shame, a terrible, terrible regret it would be if perhaps the last long period of time mum has together with my brother and his family were to be marred by arguments and misunderstandings, or worse, them leaving here in a huff...

Mess

Slept only a few hours after a late night of studying. Woke up at close to seven as the nurse came in, followed by mum's carer in the hospital. Didn't really manage to sleep more as the ward was coming to life at the start of a new day.

I wanted to wait for the doctor to come, but he did not show up today. So I grabbed a suitcase of stuff I packed earlier and left. Most likely mum can be discharged today, and slowly I must take some of the many things I've brought to the hospital home.

Arrived home to the sound of my nephew crying. He cried and cried, obviously very unwell. Before just his dad was ill, now his mother too, and inevitably my nephew also caught the flu and coughs. I kept on telling my brother when he was coughing and showing symptoms to put on a medical mask, but he wouldn't listen. And look what happened now...

The house was a mess. Clothes everywhere, suitcases strewn on the floor, bowls and baby things here and there. I know they are busy with the baby, I know they are both ill, but must it be so messy? They left within an hour of me arriving, all three of them heading to my sister-in-law's place in another part of the country. It's a good thing, as mum, if she is able to come home today, cannot afford to fall ill. With all three of them coughing and being bed-stricken, it's best if they were not here to make this a contaminated zone. I put on a mask as soon as I got home, because my brother despite my earlier warnings still did not put on a mask...

It's unfortunate, ad bad timing, though, mum about to be discharged, and coming home to just me again. My brother and his family came back, but they are gone again, so it's almost as if they didn't come back at all. The only sign of their return is the mess and unmade bed in their room, all many colourful stuffed toys belonging to my cousin lying everywhere...

Return

Finally, the day of my brother and his family's return has arrived, and I spent a few hours preparing the house for their arrival in the afternoon. It was a clear evening, very hot and humid for a change. I made my way to the airport, and was excited to see my nephew again. It's only been two weeks, but it seems like everyday he's changing, everyday he's learning new "moves" and new ways to be cute.

Perhaps they are all tired from having flown almost half way around the world (and lugging no less than seven suitcases, not even counting the baby buggy and car seat...). It was a quite ride back into the city and home. With barely half an hour to rest, my brother and I made our way to the hospital to see mum, hoping she did not go to sleep yet.

Mum was of course excited to see my brother, and she smiled and smiled seeing him, though she kept on telling him to go home and rest. Brother hasn't seen mum close up for two months, and I think seeing her in the state she is in now surprised and silenced him (or perhaps he is just not very expressive and doesn't know what to say or do to show his care...?) He sat down next to mum's bed, and just sat and asked the "usual questions": how have you been? Have you been eating? etc...

 Perhaps I am too "demanding", and I cannot judge how someone behaves... but I wish brother could be more expressive in action. A stroke of mum's arm, a touch of her legs or feet, anything that comprises of a human touch can mean so much! But my brother just sat there and listened to mum describe how she has been. I lightened the mood a bit and in a funny way tried to capture how mum was sleep talking and how she managed to pull out her NJ tube the other day (even though at the time it caused me quite a scare....) And I joked mum is eating like my nephew, mostly liquids, and that she began to eat shredded bits of apple. Another way mum is like my nephew (though this is a bit dark kind of humour...) is that she has to wear diapers in the evening, just in case...

It was a short visit, for it was already half past ten at night. We walked home, and on the way brother asked me more questions... about how mum "really" is, about whether the doctor said anything about her other organs and the spreading... I didn't know what to answer him, except to tell him it is good that mum can drink a little already, and that she is not vomiting so much (though, in the early evening, she vomited another bagful, which was very painful to see again, for it has been almost ten days that mum has not vomited....)

I was very tired to reply... So tired for some reason. Not only did I sleep terribly last night, but I think I am also so tired of having to talk about mum's condition and all that has happened over the past two months. I know my brother is anxious to know, anxious to know details, but I am just so tired, at least at this very moment, to describe it all and go into details. Frankly, because it is depressing, it is so heavy to talk about... And to be honest, I have fears seeing mum have severe diarrhea and also  vomit so much (or was it just a one-off this evening??) that the surgery was perhaps a failure. If it is, what then? What then...? When can she go home? Mum was talking so hopefully that she can go home soon, but can she really if she continues to vomit and have bad bouts of diarrhea?

I don't know. But at least brother and his family are home. And it is comforting to see that. Comforting and beautiful to see that he and his wife are around, to see how supportive and important it is to have someone dear in your life to be with you at a difficult period of your life. And even better, even more beautiful is seeing my baby nephew again...

Letter

 With my brother and his family due to return tomorrow, I took some time to write to them.
It was a brief email, but the point was to remind them of how mum's condition has been, and to tell them that mum may be moody, mum may be sad, mum may even lose her temper and be very demanding... but she is still our mother, I wrote, and we have to be more compassionate and understanding, especially given the pain, frustrations and discomforts she has been going through (and still is going through...) for so long now due to her illness. Without trying to be or wanting to be condescending, I wrote reminding my brother, sister-in-law (and nephew!) the reasons why we are together for the coming period, and what we can do for mum:

To spend precious time with mum, to talk to her so that she will have no regrets or no anger,  to let her see and play with her grandchild...
We can let her feel that life is meaningful, we can make her remember that she can still enjoy life, go travel, and do whatever she would like to do...
We can remind her of the many places she has been to, remind her of all the wonderful things she has done in the past. We can encourage and support her so that she can find purpose in living again and make the most of her days.
We may not be able to cure her illness of take away all her discomfort and pains, but we can distract her and make her feel happy, maker her smile.
These are perhaps the best gifts we can offer her as children. 

I just hope they will be understanding and that the coming period will be a meaningful and memorable one, for mum, and for all of us.

Dream

I saw mum lie in bed, choking, suffering, in terrible, terrible pain. She was saying something, asking me for something, but I could not understand. I saw myself almost in tears, looking very anxious.

My sister-in-law appeared in my dream, looking tired and somewhat apologetic, as if something was troubling her. I think she was also in tears.

The next image, I was shouting at her: "Go and be with mum! There are issues with you she has not let go of yet!"

I suddenly woke up from my sleep, looked at my watch, and realised it was already past nine in the morning, and that I overslept...

Return

"I can't tell you when to book a ticket or when you should fly!" I said, for the n-th time. I know brother is concerned and that his concerns can only be allayed by news from me on this side of the world. But I really can't tell him, as much as I would like to, he can come back on this date and things will still be ok, and mum will still be around. Who knows that? How can I or anyone be certain of that?

Last week I spoke to him on the phone after the diagnosis that mum's vomiting is in fact related to the cancer spreading. I hinted to him, with the hope he would propose it himself, that he should come back for some time, to spend time with mum. I didn't say it, but he knew what I wanted to say: sometimes you have one chance in life, and if you miss it, you may regret it for the rest of your life. And spending time, precious, quality time with your own mother when you still have the chance is one such chance. Since then, brother's asked for (and gotten approval) an unpaid sabbatical from his work of three months, and I told him not to worry about bills and mortgage payments in the meantime, for I can take care of those. Nothing is more important right now than being there with mum at such a critical and touch-and-go period of her life...

Brother's been calling everyday, the most frequent he has ever contacted me in my entire life. I tell him what I know, and reassure him not to worry too much, and to focus on his work. I know it's hard, especially being so far away and worried sleepless, but I can only tell him things are being dealt with, and that it's best for him to return ASAP.

Problem is, my sister-in-law and nephew are still here in Taiwan, and they were planning to only go back to europe at the end of March (thus two days from now), before all this vomiting and the latest diagnosis.

This means they'll go back to Europe, and within a week or two (at most!) my nephew and sister-in-law will have to make the same long, long journey back. Not difficult for me, as I've done something as crazy before, but we're talking about a mother taking a baby who is just seven months old!

They must return to Europe, for there are some urgent matter to deal with. My nephew's vaccination is due in a few days, and my sister-in-law must start applying to renew her residence visa, or otherwise she'll have to leave the Netherlands (even being married to a local citizen!) And my brother has to arrange the house, arrange for his/my cat to be taken care of in his absence, and so many other things he has to do.

I know my brother is worried, because as far as he knows mum's doing very poorly, and he's heard it from me, and heard it from him wife, but he's not seen just how poorly mum has been doing. So naturally he's anxious and terrified, and I think most of all, of missing the opportunity to see mum and spend some time with her.
So he kept on asking me for a date to return, but I simply can't give him one. "Just deal with what you need to do, choose a date, and book a ticket. If circumstances change, then change your plans accordingly!"

What else can you do? I just find it so bizarre how some people, including my friends, just book a ticket and make plans well in advance and get so frustrated by changes in plans. Life happens, plans must adapt accordingly. What else can you do? Lament fate and the unexpected twists and turns of life and circumstances? I wanted to say to my brother "Welcome to my world! This is how my life has been for the last four years!!" For it's true. I come and go and stay without knowing when I'll come, when I'll go and how long I'll be staying. To be frank, I despise this kind of uncertainty, I really crave for stability and familiarity, crave for the ability to spend a few months, a year at a time at one place (for me that would be in Canada, with my little cat and friends...), but I've just not been able to do that. Is it by choice? Perhaps, for I can simply choose to stay put and not care about mum and just go do my own things. But I can't, I can't just "abandon" her, I can't just turn the other way and not feel at all conflicted or guilty...

So what else can you do but make plans, and wait and see. If it works out, great. If not, we can only see how things are or can be and decide accordingly when we get to a point when circumstances make us choose and make us prioritise. Not everyone (and I doubt anyone!) is free to live so meticulously and timely without the possibilities of unexpected changes occurring.

and especially in the face of the possibility of losing your mother, your remaining parent, I should hope that everyone will make changes to their plans and act accordingly.