The morning after

I sudden woke up, barely three hours after I lay down to sleep. I did not dream, I don't think, but just slept all the way through. I am still very tired, but my mind refuses to rest anymore.

Almost twelve hours after mum passed away. Memories are still fresh in my head. Memories of those final moments, and of the whole day yesterday. It seemed like such a long time ago, maybe because of the lack of sleep, and I am afraid if I don't sit down and write things down, they will escape me...

It's strange to open my inbox and see emails from two friends who wrote to check up on me and wish my luck, little knowing that in the time that they wrote and I read their emails, so much has already taken place... I have already begun the process of writing to friends. Friends in so many places, to whom I am forever indebted for their support and encouragements over the past few years...

Slowly, we have to start picking up the pieces and plan the funeral. Local traditions and customs play a large part in the mourning process, and very soon the priest mum wanted to organise the funeral will come and start making an altar dedicated to mum('s spirit).

A busy time of organising and taking care of mum's affairs is about to begin...

I wish I had a fresh body and mind to face it all.

Finally home

Three in the morning. Finally home. In mum's room, where I'll be spending my first night since my return here seventeen days ago. I'll be sleeping on her bed, on the bedsheets and using the blanket she used prior to entering the hospital three weeks ago. It's bizarre to think she went in and never came out again, at least not physically.

It's been a long seventeen days, and long evening. Almost two hours of chanting followed after we accompanied mum to the morgue. It was long, and brother got stung a lot by mosquitoes. But the chanting according to Taiwanese traditions will make it easier for mum to leave this realm and enter the other world.

Not sad. Strangely stoic, and haven't shed a tear yet. Maybe I'm just too tired now to feel. Too tired because last night was so rough for mum, and I slept only at three, and only for a few hours. Now to think of it, the memo the doctor gave us yesterday did say the last twenty four hours is the greatest struggle. Too tired also because since her passing at eight in the evening, there's been so much to take care of. So much paper work involved in checking out of the hospital, and then following traditions by accompanying mum to the resting place of her body until the actual funeral. It's not even sure when that will take place, within two weeks or so, but it all depends on which day is a "good" day for a funeral. And we've got the priest figuring that out.

I called my "little" uncle, mum's youngest brother, the one sibling mum is closest to. He happens to be in Vancouver. He said he will arrange to come back for the funeral, even though he just arrived there yesterday to be with his family. On Skype, I could see he was so saddened, his face in a deep frown. It even looked like he was close to tears. But his voice was calm, and he told me not to be too sad. I felt very apologetic ruining his holiday and reunion with his family. But he needs to know, for he cared and loved his sister so much...

And I called my ex, who happens to be on holiday with his parents, also in Vancouver. I hesitated a lot before contacting him. I don't know why I was most shaken when I was talking to my ex. Even more so than when mum breathed out her last breath before everything ended. I didn't know how to break the news. I didn't want to ruin his holiday with his parents, but he has a right to know, because he cares so much, and has been ever so supportive. He said before he'd (try to) be there with me at the funeral, but it's a lot to ask, because he's so busy at work. I guess I was shaken because of the uncertainties surrounding us.

Finally home. Surrounded by mum's things. I don't even know if I should be sleeping on her bed, for maybe she'll come back tonight. I did say to her before she passed away if there's anything to come back an visit. I also told her if there's something she wants to tell me, she can come back in a dream. "I won't be afraid..."

Because she's my mother. My mother I love so much, my mother whose hand I held and whose body I hugged as she left this world...

Plans

I felt so terribly tired and drained today, and I have this terrible paranoia that I'm falling ill. It's not helped by the fact that I repeatedly tell my brother, who's still sniffing away and sometimes sneezing, to put on a mask and he does not listen. Over lunch, he accidentally sneezed, and I could feel vapours lands on my hand, and I'm sure into my food...

Normally I'd head back to hospital at around seven in the evening, but today I was just too tired, too lazy, so I let my brother go, and said I'd go by later and sleep there. I don't know what got into me, but I just felt so very tired and could not pry myself out of bed and study as I planned to, but instead was just lounging around and watching reruns of a comedy online.

I arrived at the hospital at close to nine thirty. mum and my brother and I talked a bit. He asked how my studying is going, and I admitted it's been terribly slow, and that I'm very tired. It was the mum mentioned my plan to head back to Canada soon in order to study, really focus on studying.

"Go book your ticket already! Why are you still waiting?!" he said.

I'm still waiting because I'm so uncertain what mum's condition is, and I seem to be waiting for a sign that she's be ok. That sign would be when she gets discharged from hospital, then at least I'll have some ease of mind.

"Just go and book your flights..." mum joined in brother's advice, "It'll make me happy to see you go after your own plans..."

Was she just saying it, or did she really mean it. Moments later, when brother was not around any more, and as I massaged her arms and legs with lotion (they are terribly dry from the aircon and also bad nutrition...) she told me to stop treating her like this. "I'll be so sad when you're not here..."

Mum deep down wants me to go and do my own things. She even said that she hopes the position I applied for two weeks ago will have a positive response, for she would be so proud to see me work and make some income. But I know she will hurt when I leave. I know I will hurt when I leave... We have gone through so much over the past (almost...) four months. And thinking back at what I try to do to make her feel comfortable and loved,
I know I will be so sad and that it'll be so hard to "let go" when I leave... It'll be so hard after all the effort and time I've spent trying to get mum better and on her own feet again...

"I'm here now, so go and do what you have to do!" brother urged again, "If you want to go travel a bit, go now. I'll be here with mum..."

I must learn to let go, to let others take over. I must not think only I am able to do things, only I am able to make mum feel comfortable and cared for. I must give brother (and my sister-in-law) a chance to be mum's children, a chance to demonstrate that they too care about her. As much as I'm unwilling, I must learn to let go, learn to leave and not feel guilty or like I'm forsaking my mother...

So I booked my flight, and perhaps as soon as the day after it is my hope to be on my long-awaited road trip.

T tube

I sat anxiously on her bed and waited with mum outside the fluoroscopy room. Even with classical music playing on my iPhone, I could not quell my worries. Though mum seemed able to doze off. Occasionally, I touched her legs and feet in a way to let her know I'm here, I'm right by her side.

The last time she was here was close to three weeks ago, when she had an NJ tube inserted to stop her from vomiting. Now that the bypass surgery seems to have been successful, she's been able to eat and the vomiting to merely one or two mouthfuls a day, if at all. It's a dramatic improvement. But jaundice, the yellowing of her skin caused by the inability to expel bile, has rid her of her appetite again. She's become so terribly frail and thin again, and is barely able to stand for more than a few minutes...

This time, the doctor wanted to insert a T tube (not sure what the T stands for...), which will penetrate the biliary tree (group of vessels leading from the gallbladder which produces bile), so as to drain the bile that for a while has been unable to pass out of her body. I read on a notice board that long term bile retention will cause not just the skin and eye whites to become eye yellows, but also cause body poisoning and even liver failure. Hopefully, it has not come to that...

Mum was wheeled into the fluoroscopy room, and I stood by her, held her arm until I was told to go. Earlier I saw a notice saying when children need to undergo a medical intervention, parents or carers should remain by their side to calm the children. I don't understand why this is only limited to patients who are children...

I was so tired after I left the room, and feeling somewhat ill. I've been skewing late to study, and get woken up when the daytime carer arrives before seven, so not much sleep. I was told that the procedure would take around an hour or so, so I headed back to her room to nap a little. I was getting very dizzy and faint...

I barely got to rest when mum was wheeled back. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, due to the anaesthesia. On her right hand side was a tube and a pouch, and already it was filling quickly blacks vile-looking black liquid.

The doctor came by and said the procedure was a success, and that mum should soon feel some relief. Mum looked tired but hopeful, and though she slept most of the afternoon, she did say that the bloated feelings in her stomach were slowly subsiding. It is not known yet how long she has to have to T tube inserted (by my understanding, as long as necessary until the blockage issue is resolved... which may mean another major surgery to reroute the duodenum and bile ducts, as the surgeon previously suggested...) But at least for now, one issue has been resolved, and I will be so happy if mum can go home soon...