The tiredness after returning from my long trip is exhausting. Terribly exhausting. together with the pills I must continue to take, perhaps causing me to have dreams...
In my dream tonight, I was at the hospital, seeing a doctor. It was not for me, it was for mum. But mum wasn't around, in fact she never appeared in the dream...
The doctor spoke about her condition, and shook his head. He said we need to proceed with treatment. Electrotherapy, or something like that, to kill the cancer.
I remember getting very frustrated and puzzled. Isn't she already dead...?
Why more treatment? How much longer can I take of hospitals and treatment?
I woke up, shaken and disturbed...
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
17 December 2012
11 December 2012
Brush with dacoits
111212.1821
I first came across the word "dacoit" in the guidebook. The Indian penal code has a special provision dealing with these modern day "bandits", who often rule, with intimidation, fear, extortion and blackmail, where the reaches of law enforcement is weakest and more sporadic. And this is the case in the very regions of India (and also Nepal) I've been traveling in...
A friend of mine warned me to be very careful on my travels and not to venture on roads at night. He told me to avoid a particular train station, Mughal Sarai Junction, which is supposed to be rife with these kinds of people. I tried to imagine what they look like, and keep picturing rough looking men with tattoos and bandanas chewing paan (betel nut). Somehow, fate led me to stand on the platform and wait there for three hours... But I never encountered any criminal elements, at least not that I was aware of.
Until today.
I took a tour of the surrounding area around Lumbini, and hired a driver in search of the ruins which allegedly is the kingdom where Prince Siddharta grew up before he left in search of deathless and liberation from this world. I arrived at Kapilvatsu, some twenty kilometers away, and spent a pleasant afternoon wandering around ruins.
Close to four thirty, the driver said we should head back. I was disappointed, for there were two other sites we did not see. But he was in a great hurry to leave, an it was another forty-five minute drive back to the village I was staying at.
He drove at great speeds as the skies began to dim gradually. We sped through the countryside, vast fields with wandering cows and goats all around us that looked so tranquil and so tame. The driver kept on honking to warn slow bikers and cow-drawn carts laden with hay of our mad and speedy approach.
Then we had to slow down, for there was a large lorry and tractor parked in the middle of the road. In front of us was a fancy SUV, whereas I was in a beatup little Tata compact. A group of men, in their late twenties or so, some sporting fancy looking jackets, stood on the side of the road and were shouting. A crowd gathered. There was confusion and commotion. I sat in the back seat and watched this all from a safe distance, unsure what was happening, but intrigued. Two weeks on the road in India (and now Nepal...) and I wondered what other unexpected there is to expect.
The driver honked, but we sat there for a good ten minutes. He eventually got out of the car and went to see what was happening. He returned and closed the door behind him. He looked nervous, and I heard the doors lock. Things were happening so quickly and so randomly, I was lost.
The SUV in front of us nudged around the tractor that till now was parked in the middle of the road but was beginning to move a little out of the way. The driver took this cue and did the same, trying to nudge in between a small space that was opening up between the slow moving tractor and the still stationary lorry. As we advanced, the men who had been standing on the side of the road closed in on our car. They shouted something in Nepali I could not understand. I did understand that their tone were not very friendly, and they seemed to be demanding something.
"No money! No money!" the driver shouted back, "No money!" With those words, he quickly sped away, leaving the rabble, parked lorry and tractor that took up more than half the road, behind.
We sped for a few minutes before the driver turned back to me, and said on broken English: "Fighting!" He gestured with his fists. "Ask money! Money!"
Then it occurred to me. These men were not in uniform, so they couldn't be the police, who at times are just as bad and good at extorting money as good-for-nothing dacoits. These men were perhaps.... So I asked. "Dacoits?"
"Yes! Yes!" We sped along the road, swerving left and right to avoid hitting the ocassional wandering cow or school children biking home from school. Several times I thought we were going to flying off into the ditch or flip over.
"How much? One hundred? Two hundred?" I asked.
The driver wanted to say something but he did not know how, it seemed, in English. Then, with one hand on the wheel, the other reached for his mobile phone. He typed a figure. Two hundred, and three more zeros behind that. Two hundred thousand Nepali rupees, that's close to $2500, or ten times the average monthly wage...
As we sped further toward Lumbini, I looked out the window at the fields that before looked so tranquil and tame. It now looked so barren, desolate, dead. Fog was beginning to set in, and soon wolves can be heard howling in the dark as they do every night. There was still some light of day left, but soon, the road would be pitch dark. The kind of dark that is unimaginable because there simply are no lights, and even if there were lights, they would often just suddenly switch off because of the common plague of blackouts. Not even the stars and crescent moon can be seen, for they are normally eclipsed by the nightly onset of thick fog prone to these lower regions of the Himalayas.
It began to dawn on me what just happened, and how close I was to being in danger without even realising it. Thank goodness we quickly got away, otherwise how would we live up to the demand for that much money? Who has that much money in this region of one of the ten poorest countries in the world anyways?
What would they do to me, a foreign traveler in the middle of a backward region of Nepal? How would they react if they opened my bulky looking bag and found only three stuffed animals, some Buddhist prayer beads and a picture of my mum?
I felt nauseated, even more than before when it was just due to the side effects of the malaria pills I needed to take to stay safe in this region. The accumulated traveler's fatigue mingled with a creeping realisation of what could have happened ( but luckily did not...), and since I began this journey two weeks ago, I longed to go home...
I
I first came across the word "dacoit" in the guidebook. The Indian penal code has a special provision dealing with these modern day "bandits", who often rule, with intimidation, fear, extortion and blackmail, where the reaches of law enforcement is weakest and more sporadic. And this is the case in the very regions of India (and also Nepal) I've been traveling in...
A friend of mine warned me to be very careful on my travels and not to venture on roads at night. He told me to avoid a particular train station, Mughal Sarai Junction, which is supposed to be rife with these kinds of people. I tried to imagine what they look like, and keep picturing rough looking men with tattoos and bandanas chewing paan (betel nut). Somehow, fate led me to stand on the platform and wait there for three hours... But I never encountered any criminal elements, at least not that I was aware of.
Until today.
I took a tour of the surrounding area around Lumbini, and hired a driver in search of the ruins which allegedly is the kingdom where Prince Siddharta grew up before he left in search of deathless and liberation from this world. I arrived at Kapilvatsu, some twenty kilometers away, and spent a pleasant afternoon wandering around ruins.
Close to four thirty, the driver said we should head back. I was disappointed, for there were two other sites we did not see. But he was in a great hurry to leave, an it was another forty-five minute drive back to the village I was staying at.
He drove at great speeds as the skies began to dim gradually. We sped through the countryside, vast fields with wandering cows and goats all around us that looked so tranquil and so tame. The driver kept on honking to warn slow bikers and cow-drawn carts laden with hay of our mad and speedy approach.
Then we had to slow down, for there was a large lorry and tractor parked in the middle of the road. In front of us was a fancy SUV, whereas I was in a beatup little Tata compact. A group of men, in their late twenties or so, some sporting fancy looking jackets, stood on the side of the road and were shouting. A crowd gathered. There was confusion and commotion. I sat in the back seat and watched this all from a safe distance, unsure what was happening, but intrigued. Two weeks on the road in India (and now Nepal...) and I wondered what other unexpected there is to expect.
The driver honked, but we sat there for a good ten minutes. He eventually got out of the car and went to see what was happening. He returned and closed the door behind him. He looked nervous, and I heard the doors lock. Things were happening so quickly and so randomly, I was lost.
The SUV in front of us nudged around the tractor that till now was parked in the middle of the road but was beginning to move a little out of the way. The driver took this cue and did the same, trying to nudge in between a small space that was opening up between the slow moving tractor and the still stationary lorry. As we advanced, the men who had been standing on the side of the road closed in on our car. They shouted something in Nepali I could not understand. I did understand that their tone were not very friendly, and they seemed to be demanding something.
"No money! No money!" the driver shouted back, "No money!" With those words, he quickly sped away, leaving the rabble, parked lorry and tractor that took up more than half the road, behind.
We sped for a few minutes before the driver turned back to me, and said on broken English: "Fighting!" He gestured with his fists. "Ask money! Money!"
Then it occurred to me. These men were not in uniform, so they couldn't be the police, who at times are just as bad and good at extorting money as good-for-nothing dacoits. These men were perhaps.... So I asked. "Dacoits?"
"Yes! Yes!" We sped along the road, swerving left and right to avoid hitting the ocassional wandering cow or school children biking home from school. Several times I thought we were going to flying off into the ditch or flip over.
"How much? One hundred? Two hundred?" I asked.
The driver wanted to say something but he did not know how, it seemed, in English. Then, with one hand on the wheel, the other reached for his mobile phone. He typed a figure. Two hundred, and three more zeros behind that. Two hundred thousand Nepali rupees, that's close to $2500, or ten times the average monthly wage...
As we sped further toward Lumbini, I looked out the window at the fields that before looked so tranquil and tame. It now looked so barren, desolate, dead. Fog was beginning to set in, and soon wolves can be heard howling in the dark as they do every night. There was still some light of day left, but soon, the road would be pitch dark. The kind of dark that is unimaginable because there simply are no lights, and even if there were lights, they would often just suddenly switch off because of the common plague of blackouts. Not even the stars and crescent moon can be seen, for they are normally eclipsed by the nightly onset of thick fog prone to these lower regions of the Himalayas.
It began to dawn on me what just happened, and how close I was to being in danger without even realising it. Thank goodness we quickly got away, otherwise how would we live up to the demand for that much money? Who has that much money in this region of one of the ten poorest countries in the world anyways?
What would they do to me, a foreign traveler in the middle of a backward region of Nepal? How would they react if they opened my bulky looking bag and found only three stuffed animals, some Buddhist prayer beads and a picture of my mum?
I felt nauseated, even more than before when it was just due to the side effects of the malaria pills I needed to take to stay safe in this region. The accumulated traveler's fatigue mingled with a creeping realisation of what could have happened ( but luckily did not...), and since I began this journey two weeks ago, I longed to go home...
I
18 July 2012
Haunted
Death, death, signs of death everywhere... Horrible, horrible dream that just woke me up And left me gasping for air, barely screaming...
I kept seeing the urn, mum's urn. It was somewhere in this old, rundown house in some foreign country (Singapore for some bizarre reason...). The priest was performing some kind of ritual, I was present, but so was mum. But whose urn was it if mum was there too?
The urn was half buried in the ground. The priest gestured wildly with his arms and body, he chanted some kind of spell. I was so frightened in the dream, and it was made worse by the fact it was in the middle of the night, and it was pouring with rain.
Another scene: we were inside a house, and I heard mum suddenly scream. I turned to her, and she was holding an underwear. She said the deceased (whoever the person was...) wore the same underwear. I tried to calm mum down, but I broke into tears. A bunch of people rushed over to see what was going on. I was sobbing so heavily, sobbing and crying and in such a terrible state of mind. My mum was on the side, looking shocked and wild eyed and confused. I could not stop crying, and the image of the urn half buried in the ground haunted me so...
I kept seeing the urn, mum's urn. It was somewhere in this old, rundown house in some foreign country (Singapore for some bizarre reason...). The priest was performing some kind of ritual, I was present, but so was mum. But whose urn was it if mum was there too?
The urn was half buried in the ground. The priest gestured wildly with his arms and body, he chanted some kind of spell. I was so frightened in the dream, and it was made worse by the fact it was in the middle of the night, and it was pouring with rain.
Another scene: we were inside a house, and I heard mum suddenly scream. I turned to her, and she was holding an underwear. She said the deceased (whoever the person was...) wore the same underwear. I tried to calm mum down, but I broke into tears. A bunch of people rushed over to see what was going on. I was sobbing so heavily, sobbing and crying and in such a terrible state of mind. My mum was on the side, looking shocked and wild eyed and confused. I could not stop crying, and the image of the urn half buried in the ground haunted me so...
11 July 2012
Loss and gain
I lost a part, a dear part of me and of my life. And what do I gain in return? No more watching a loved one suffer unnecessarily. No more sadness, depression, ups and downs of emotional that used to fluctuate with mum's health condition. No more hospital visits and waiting for appointments.
I lost my dear mother. But I gained the freedom of my own life back.
And that is so frightening and daunting.
I lost my dear mother. But I gained the freedom of my own life back.
And that is so frightening and daunting.
23 June 2012
Vegetable
What a dream... Horrible dream...
They did something to mum, opened up her brain or administered some kind of drug.
"Mama? Mama? MAMA?!" I called out. She sat in a wheelchair in an abandoned square and did not respond. She stared at me with crossed eyes. She was lost in her own world. She was a vegetable...
I cried calling mum, again and again...
She did not respond.
They did something to mum, opened up her brain or administered some kind of drug.
"Mama? Mama? MAMA?!" I called out. She sat in a wheelchair in an abandoned square and did not respond. She stared at me with crossed eyes. She was lost in her own world. She was a vegetable...
I cried calling mum, again and again...
She did not respond.
22 June 2012
Dragon Boat Festival
I woke up from a dream, I woke up tired and agitated from a dream I cannot remember. I woke up to the sound of mum gagging an choking, and the sound of a plastic bag rustling.
Mum looks particularly unwell today, and there are dark shadows around her eyes. She has no appetite, and the vomit just came out of nowhere. The last thing she ate/drank was a mouthful of Ensure. And that was over ten hours ago...
"Open the curtains..." she said weakly. It seemed like a strange request, but I did as she asked of me. Outside the sky was dawning, a brand new day is dawning.
When I turned around to look at her and take her by the hand, she had closed her eyes and fallen asleep...
Mum looks particularly unwell today, and there are dark shadows around her eyes. She has no appetite, and the vomit just came out of nowhere. The last thing she ate/drank was a mouthful of Ensure. And that was over ten hours ago...
"Open the curtains..." she said weakly. It seemed like a strange request, but I did as she asked of me. Outside the sky was dawning, a brand new day is dawning.
When I turned around to look at her and take her by the hand, she had closed her eyes and fallen asleep...
11 June 2012
HND-TSA
110612.1111
On board Eva Air plane which will take me straight to downtown Taipei. To my surprise, it is another Hello Kitty jet. Life is full of unexpected surprises...
A quick turnaround in tokyo, and now on the final leg of my journey home. This is such a difficult journey. My heart is racing and my mind is so agitated. The contrast of my feelings and the cuteness of the plane interior is extreme. I just got a reply from my friend, the one who has gone before down this difficult, difficult road of losing one's mother. She wrote: "... do not question the events, just live them. What has to come, will come."
What is coming? I think I know. I have been told to expect the worst. Brother said mum's condition has further deteriorated. She has difficulty eating, and half a bowl is already a lot for her. "Don't force her to eat, because she'll get very upset. Just listen to what she wants and accord her her wishes. Don't argue with her..." brother told me.
"And don't cry. It'll hurt her if you cry. If you need to cry, go outside. Don't be surprised by what you see..."
What will I see? How has mum changed since i was with her last? How will she has deteriorated that will make my heart break and me break down? I do not know. I do not know what to expect. But it will be a test... Test of my endurance, test of my faith and courage, and test of whether the teachings of impermanence and letting go is truly ingrained in me. Did the period of pre-mourning when I was back in Canada help?
I will find out soon enough.
I must remind myself that it is ok to cry (when mum is not around...). And it is ok also not to cry. I must remind myself that the absence of tears does not equate the absence of feelings or emotions. Instead, it may signify the ultimate level of serenity, reached when you know you've done everything you can with what the time and means you have been given. And I believe I have given mum everything I possibly could...
Whatever happens from now, whatever I see and experience just will be...
Whatever will be will be.
On board Eva Air plane which will take me straight to downtown Taipei. To my surprise, it is another Hello Kitty jet. Life is full of unexpected surprises...
A quick turnaround in tokyo, and now on the final leg of my journey home. This is such a difficult journey. My heart is racing and my mind is so agitated. The contrast of my feelings and the cuteness of the plane interior is extreme. I just got a reply from my friend, the one who has gone before down this difficult, difficult road of losing one's mother. She wrote: "... do not question the events, just live them. What has to come, will come."
What is coming? I think I know. I have been told to expect the worst. Brother said mum's condition has further deteriorated. She has difficulty eating, and half a bowl is already a lot for her. "Don't force her to eat, because she'll get very upset. Just listen to what she wants and accord her her wishes. Don't argue with her..." brother told me.
"And don't cry. It'll hurt her if you cry. If you need to cry, go outside. Don't be surprised by what you see..."
What will I see? How has mum changed since i was with her last? How will she has deteriorated that will make my heart break and me break down? I do not know. I do not know what to expect. But it will be a test... Test of my endurance, test of my faith and courage, and test of whether the teachings of impermanence and letting go is truly ingrained in me. Did the period of pre-mourning when I was back in Canada help?
I will find out soon enough.
I must remind myself that it is ok to cry (when mum is not around...). And it is ok also not to cry. I must remind myself that the absence of tears does not equate the absence of feelings or emotions. Instead, it may signify the ultimate level of serenity, reached when you know you've done everything you can with what the time and means you have been given. And I believe I have given mum everything I possibly could...
Whatever happens from now, whatever I see and experience just will be...
Whatever will be will be.
31 May 2012
Unwell
Brother suddenly called me in the evening (morning Taiwan time).
"I don't want to scare you..." he said, "And please don't worry or think too much, but mum said she wants to go the hospital."
Mum dislikes the hospital... She could hardly wait to get out of there. But today for the first time, she requested to return. I asked to speak to her.
"I just feel very weak, like there's no energy..." she mumbled. I struggled to hear her clearly. My heart pounded like it did almost five months ago, when I got "The Call". I began trembling. At that moment my friend dropped by. I had asked her to come by because I needed her help printing documents I need to apply for a visa home.
"please don't rush here... Stay where you are for a bit longer. You've been flying around too much. No need to "chia bua bing"" Meaning "turning the place upside down", or making a mountain out of a mole hill.
I spoke to mum a little more, but she was getting dressed to go. Brother took over the phone and tried to reassure me more. But I was beyond reassuring. I trembled and shook, even though I said I'd go sleep. I did not.
Not much later, I was holding our family portrait and sobbing heavily again. My friend placed an arm around me and tried to comfort me. I was beyond comforting, and sobbed even more. I felt the saltiness of my tears in the corner of my lips. I felt the snot run down my nose. I was distraught, anxious, petrified. I was so far, far away... I folded my arms before me and clenched my fists. I held myself tightly, for it was the closest way i could console myself. Eventually I stopped crying. And soon began to joke and laugh with my friend as she hugged me tightly that I must smell really bad because I've not had the time to shower since my long bike ride today. She said I smell no more different than before, which could be a compliment, or insult. That's why it was funny. That broke my flow of tears And made me smile.
"I can still smile, right? Smile and laugh?" I asked.
"Yes, you can," she said as she stroked my shoulders. And that's an amazing ability in the face of everything.
It is so painfully hard, gruellingly difficult these moments of unknown, these sudden phone calls that leave me gasping for breath and for sanity. But one day it will be all over...
One day it will all be over...
"I don't want to scare you..." he said, "And please don't worry or think too much, but mum said she wants to go the hospital."
Mum dislikes the hospital... She could hardly wait to get out of there. But today for the first time, she requested to return. I asked to speak to her.
"I just feel very weak, like there's no energy..." she mumbled. I struggled to hear her clearly. My heart pounded like it did almost five months ago, when I got "The Call". I began trembling. At that moment my friend dropped by. I had asked her to come by because I needed her help printing documents I need to apply for a visa home.
"please don't rush here... Stay where you are for a bit longer. You've been flying around too much. No need to "chia bua bing"" Meaning "turning the place upside down", or making a mountain out of a mole hill.
I spoke to mum a little more, but she was getting dressed to go. Brother took over the phone and tried to reassure me more. But I was beyond reassuring. I trembled and shook, even though I said I'd go sleep. I did not.
Not much later, I was holding our family portrait and sobbing heavily again. My friend placed an arm around me and tried to comfort me. I was beyond comforting, and sobbed even more. I felt the saltiness of my tears in the corner of my lips. I felt the snot run down my nose. I was distraught, anxious, petrified. I was so far, far away... I folded my arms before me and clenched my fists. I held myself tightly, for it was the closest way i could console myself. Eventually I stopped crying. And soon began to joke and laugh with my friend as she hugged me tightly that I must smell really bad because I've not had the time to shower since my long bike ride today. She said I smell no more different than before, which could be a compliment, or insult. That's why it was funny. That broke my flow of tears And made me smile.
"I can still smile, right? Smile and laugh?" I asked.
"Yes, you can," she said as she stroked my shoulders. And that's an amazing ability in the face of everything.
It is so painfully hard, gruellingly difficult these moments of unknown, these sudden phone calls that leave me gasping for breath and for sanity. But one day it will be all over...
One day it will all be over...
Mother bear
While waiting for my visa to be processed I decided to go to the canadian civilisation museum and watch an IMAX movie. It was about the arctic, and how global warming is affecting the polar bears.
The story follows the journey of a mother and her two cubs. So majestic, so elegant and beautiful... Like all mothers, she leads her children to survival, breastfeeds them, protects them from all dangers, and is willing to sacrifice her own life for that of her offspring. The way they cuddle, the way the mother plays with her young, the way she goes hunting for food and brings it home for the cubs to eat. It's love... Universal motherly love and compassion, motherly kindness and care...
I can't believe I started crying there and then. Not just once, buy several times throughout the movie. I could not be think of my own mother, how she has nursed me, nurtured me, raised me and (together with dad...) given me so much (and more) so that I will stand on my own feet one day.
I heart wrenches from the emotions of loss and pain, a strange feeling for she is still around, she is still alive, and I speak to her everyday. But I know, I know mum is leaving me soon...
And soon I must stand on my own feet... How can I keep from crying...?
The story follows the journey of a mother and her two cubs. So majestic, so elegant and beautiful... Like all mothers, she leads her children to survival, breastfeeds them, protects them from all dangers, and is willing to sacrifice her own life for that of her offspring. The way they cuddle, the way the mother plays with her young, the way she goes hunting for food and brings it home for the cubs to eat. It's love... Universal motherly love and compassion, motherly kindness and care...
I can't believe I started crying there and then. Not just once, buy several times throughout the movie. I could not be think of my own mother, how she has nursed me, nurtured me, raised me and (together with dad...) given me so much (and more) so that I will stand on my own feet one day.
I heart wrenches from the emotions of loss and pain, a strange feeling for she is still around, she is still alive, and I speak to her everyday. But I know, I know mum is leaving me soon...
And soon I must stand on my own feet... How can I keep from crying...?
Unwell
Brother suddenly called me in the evening (morning Taiwan time).
"I don't want to scare you..." he said, "And please don't worry or think too much, but mum said she wants to go the hospital."
Mum dislikes the hospital... She could hardly wait to get out of there. But today for the first time, she requested to return. I asked to speak to her.
"I just feel very weak, like there's no energy..." she mumbled. I struggled to hear her clearly. My heart pounded like it did almost five months ago, when I got "The Call". I began trembling. At that moment my friend dropped by. I had asked her to come by because I needed her help printing documents I need to apply for a visa home.
"please don't rush here... Stay where you are for a bit longer. You've been flying around too much. No need to "chia bua bing"" Meaning "turning the place upside down", or making a mountain out of a mole hill.
I spoke to mum a little more, but she was getting dressed to go. Brother took over the phone and tried to reassure me more. But I was beyond reassuring. I trembled and shook, even though I said I'd go sleep. I did not.
Not much later, I was holding our family portrait and sobbing heavily again. My friend placed an arm around me and tried to comfort me. I was beyond comforting, and sobbed even more. I felt the saltiness of my tears in the corner of my lips. I felt the snot run down my nose. I was distraught, anxious, petrified. I was so far, far away... I folded my arms before me and clenched my fists. I held myself tightly, for it was the closest way i could console myself. Eventually I stopped crying. And soon began to joke and laugh with my friend as she hugged me tightly that I must smell really bad because I've not had the time to shower since my long bike ride today. She said I smell no more different than before, which could be a compliment, or insult. That's why it was funny. That broke my flow of tears And made me smile.
"I can still smile, right? Smile and laugh?" I asked.
"Yes, you can," she said as she stroked my shoulders. And that's an amazing ability in the face of everything.
It is so painfully hard, gruellingly difficult these moments of unknown, these sudden phone calls that leave me gasping for breath and for sanity. But one day it will be all over...
One day it will all be over...
"I don't want to scare you..." he said, "And please don't worry or think too much, but mum said she wants to go the hospital."
Mum dislikes the hospital... She could hardly wait to get out of there. But today for the first time, she requested to return. I asked to speak to her.
"I just feel very weak, like there's no energy..." she mumbled. I struggled to hear her clearly. My heart pounded like it did almost five months ago, when I got "The Call". I began trembling. At that moment my friend dropped by. I had asked her to come by because I needed her help printing documents I need to apply for a visa home.
"please don't rush here... Stay where you are for a bit longer. You've been flying around too much. No need to "chia bua bing"" Meaning "turning the place upside down", or making a mountain out of a mole hill.
I spoke to mum a little more, but she was getting dressed to go. Brother took over the phone and tried to reassure me more. But I was beyond reassuring. I trembled and shook, even though I said I'd go sleep. I did not.
Not much later, I was holding our family portrait and sobbing heavily again. My friend placed an arm around me and tried to comfort me. I was beyond comforting, and sobbed even more. I felt the saltiness of my tears in the corner of my lips. I felt the snot run down my nose. I was distraught, anxious, petrified. I was so far, far away... I folded my arms before me and clenched my fists. I held myself tightly, for it was the closest way i could console myself. Eventually I stopped crying. And soon began to joke and laugh with my friend as she hugged me tightly that I must smell really bad because I've not had the time to shower since my long bike ride today. She said I smell no more different than before, which could be a compliment, or insult. That's why it was funny. That broke my flow of tears And made me smile.
"I can still smile, right? Smile and laugh?" I asked.
"Yes, you can," she said as she stroked my shoulders. And that's an amazing ability in the face of everything.
It is so painfully hard, gruellingly difficult these moments of unknown, these sudden phone calls that leave me gasping for breath and for sanity. But one day it will be all over...
One day it will all be over...
19 May 2012
In Perrineville
Spoke to mum just now. A brief conversation. I hesitated whether to tell her where I am, for she never did have a liking for my aunt in the US. but I told mum anyways, just to let her know and not have to hide things.
It was a very brief conversation, and I explained how it is that it costs more to fly direct to Montreal than it does to fly to Montreal and then New York (Newark). It didn't not matter, really. It was just making conversation... Making conversation, as she was doing telling me she just went to market in her wheelchair. Anything to make conversation, to distract from it all...
Mum quickly put me through to brother. "Mum's been losing weight..." she's 41 now, down from 43kg a few days ago. It's strange why she's losing weight. Or is it? It's the cancer. It's eating her from the inside. She's being fed by the (new) carer. Too weak to eat by herself...
I did not flinch. I did not cry.
It's as if those words, the description of mum's condition, the talk about mum's eventual arrangements washed over me completely. A friend of mum's came to see her yesterday. She cried seeing mum. I heard what was said. But I did not flinch. I did not cry.
Am I unfeeling? Am I numb? Am I deaf or just suppressing it all? Perhaps all the feelings of pain, pain, deep deep pain is falling into a hole, a hole that is fast filling and will one day burst out...
What am I doing here, in this small town in the middle of nowhere? What am I doing being surrounded by open countryside, stars and such tranquility?
It's all so surreal.
It was a very brief conversation, and I explained how it is that it costs more to fly direct to Montreal than it does to fly to Montreal and then New York (Newark). It didn't not matter, really. It was just making conversation... Making conversation, as she was doing telling me she just went to market in her wheelchair. Anything to make conversation, to distract from it all...
Mum quickly put me through to brother. "Mum's been losing weight..." she's 41 now, down from 43kg a few days ago. It's strange why she's losing weight. Or is it? It's the cancer. It's eating her from the inside. She's being fed by the (new) carer. Too weak to eat by herself...
I did not flinch. I did not cry.
It's as if those words, the description of mum's condition, the talk about mum's eventual arrangements washed over me completely. A friend of mum's came to see her yesterday. She cried seeing mum. I heard what was said. But I did not flinch. I did not cry.
Am I unfeeling? Am I numb? Am I deaf or just suppressing it all? Perhaps all the feelings of pain, pain, deep deep pain is falling into a hole, a hole that is fast filling and will one day burst out...
What am I doing here, in this small town in the middle of nowhere? What am I doing being surrounded by open countryside, stars and such tranquility?
It's all so surreal.
Talks
It's like I don't hear it. Brother tells me about talks he has been having with mum. Talks about her "arrangements". Where to go, what to do, how and all the details when she is no longer around.
I've had theses conversations with mum before. And at those times, it feel so natural, so simple to talk about death. Perhaps because death didn't seem so close. At least, never as close as now. And it frightens me. It intimidates me so.
The cancer is eating away her intestines, her pancreas. God only knows where else and how else mum will be affected. All I can think of is how is she feeling. How is mum taking all this? How is mum feeling deep down, knowing that there may not be much time left? A thought comes to me: what is the point of all these days, these final days when you know where things are headed?
These questions never bothered me, or at least not as much as they do now. I am so afraid that she is afraid and uneasy inside. Those thoughts dominate my mind nowadays, and suppress even my own feelings toward all this. I am confused, broken, lost. Perhaps you have noticed from the very disjointed and incoherent way I've been writing these days.
"Should I head back?" I asked mum yesterday. And I asked the same question to my brother. They both told me to stay. It's not time yet. One day it will be, and I need to prepare for that. But now is not yet the time.
I need to make the most of my time here, time when I am away from it all to recuperate, to gather strength and courage. Because I have a feeling the next time I am back home, it might very well be a longer and more difficult stay.
I've had theses conversations with mum before. And at those times, it feel so natural, so simple to talk about death. Perhaps because death didn't seem so close. At least, never as close as now. And it frightens me. It intimidates me so.
The cancer is eating away her intestines, her pancreas. God only knows where else and how else mum will be affected. All I can think of is how is she feeling. How is mum taking all this? How is mum feeling deep down, knowing that there may not be much time left? A thought comes to me: what is the point of all these days, these final days when you know where things are headed?
These questions never bothered me, or at least not as much as they do now. I am so afraid that she is afraid and uneasy inside. Those thoughts dominate my mind nowadays, and suppress even my own feelings toward all this. I am confused, broken, lost. Perhaps you have noticed from the very disjointed and incoherent way I've been writing these days.
"Should I head back?" I asked mum yesterday. And I asked the same question to my brother. They both told me to stay. It's not time yet. One day it will be, and I need to prepare for that. But now is not yet the time.
I need to make the most of my time here, time when I am away from it all to recuperate, to gather strength and courage. Because I have a feeling the next time I am back home, it might very well be a longer and more difficult stay.
18 May 2012
Starting afresh
I get scared and tense up. I know what the other person is up to, I can feel the touches, the looks and glances. And I am so intimidated by it all.
But is this not what I am looking for, not what I have been craving and dreaming of? And yet when someone is giving it to me, why do I shirk and shy away? Why do I pretend not to notice and pretend none of it is happening? Why do I feel guilty and feel if I live and indulge, I am forsaking mum and abandoning her...?
"I can't..." I said, "I don't want to start anything when everything is so uncertain..." He touched me so tenderly, but I am scared. But is that always my excuse for everything? Is that how I run away from things, because I believe or make myself believe there is something much more important out there holding me back from really living, pulling me back from rushing forward and committing.
How long am I to keep running? How long must I go on living afraid to make commitments, afraid to live for myself?
But is this not what I am looking for, not what I have been craving and dreaming of? And yet when someone is giving it to me, why do I shirk and shy away? Why do I pretend not to notice and pretend none of it is happening? Why do I feel guilty and feel if I live and indulge, I am forsaking mum and abandoning her...?
"I can't..." I said, "I don't want to start anything when everything is so uncertain..." He touched me so tenderly, but I am scared. But is that always my excuse for everything? Is that how I run away from things, because I believe or make myself believe there is something much more important out there holding me back from really living, pulling me back from rushing forward and committing.
How long am I to keep running? How long must I go on living afraid to make commitments, afraid to live for myself?
14 May 2012
Gone
Things, images, fears cross my mind...
Just now, I saw myself crying at night, alone in my own apartment. Gone, gone, mum is gone...
And that thought, that image, even though it is but a fleeting one and an imagination of what could be, scares me so...
To the airport
On the metro. The last few hours have been a rush. I lay down for a rest, needed to calm my mind and upset stomach. I can feel the stress mounting again. And it's physically manifesting in bad cramps, cramps I've not felt for a while.
All these images cross my mind... Mum lying there with an expression of pain and discomfort... Mum breathing laboriously... Images of possible futures and potential events that may take place, and that are taking place in the vivid world of my imagination... Rushing home on the plane... Crying at the hospital... Holding onto mum's limp body... Inconsolable pain, pain, pain that will not go away...
I shudder at these thoughts, I feel deep deep fear as these images tear through my mind...
Heading to the airport. Flight in two hours. Another flight. It seems crazy that I'm heading back to Vancouver, where I just was last week. But I needed the time and place to fully concentrate, to be at home and rest in my own bed, to he surrounded by my own things and to recharge. I needed that little reminder that whatever happens, I have a home, I have these possessions that ground me to my life and tell me who I am (yes, it's very materialistic to be attached to my home and my things...). I need that more than anything at the moment. I need that at a time when who-knows-when need to part with the dearest person in my life...
Was it a waste of money to be flying back and forth across Canada just in order to study? Circumstances compel me to. Or perhaps I'm just too spoiled and cannot concentrate unless I'm in a quiet environment insulated from distractions. But this exam is important. Not just because it cost $400 just to register to take it. But because I have postponed it once before already.
And I know mum would want me to succeed, would want me to sit the exam. For her sake. I can imagine that she's lying there in bed and thinking about me, praying for me and wishing me luck.
All these images cross my mind... Mum lying there with an expression of pain and discomfort... Mum breathing laboriously... Images of possible futures and potential events that may take place, and that are taking place in the vivid world of my imagination... Rushing home on the plane... Crying at the hospital... Holding onto mum's limp body... Inconsolable pain, pain, pain that will not go away...
I shudder at these thoughts, I feel deep deep fear as these images tear through my mind...
Heading to the airport. Flight in two hours. Another flight. It seems crazy that I'm heading back to Vancouver, where I just was last week. But I needed the time and place to fully concentrate, to be at home and rest in my own bed, to he surrounded by my own things and to recharge. I needed that little reminder that whatever happens, I have a home, I have these possessions that ground me to my life and tell me who I am (yes, it's very materialistic to be attached to my home and my things...). I need that more than anything at the moment. I need that at a time when who-knows-when need to part with the dearest person in my life...
Was it a waste of money to be flying back and forth across Canada just in order to study? Circumstances compel me to. Or perhaps I'm just too spoiled and cannot concentrate unless I'm in a quiet environment insulated from distractions. But this exam is important. Not just because it cost $400 just to register to take it. But because I have postponed it once before already.
And I know mum would want me to succeed, would want me to sit the exam. For her sake. I can imagine that she's lying there in bed and thinking about me, praying for me and wishing me luck.
Be prepared
we talked about "arrangements" for a while. Things that come "after".
Mum is terribly frail. The elevated pancreas index level may be related to the cancer having infiltrated the pancreas and causing a slow process of poisoning.
"How does mum feel?"
"She knows. She knows better than me what is happening."
"How do you feel?"
"Just like this... It's just like this."
"The doctor told me something today," brother said, "And I have to tell you. The next time if her intestines become blocked, she has only a month."
Shock.
Fear.
Realisation.
Terrible, terrible stomach pains.
Terrible, terrible agitation and the vision of the world spinning, collapsing.
"I understand," I said calmly. The calm was uncanny, surreal. The calm that was sheltering the turbulence and storm.
I want to rush there. I want to be there, I want to hold mum. I want to tell her I love her so much. I want to take away her fears, take away her pains, even though my own body, my own mind is filling with fears and agitation. But the exam needs to be written still. I have not yet begun revising. I am so torn and frustrated. What should I be feeling? What should I be prioritising?
I am so scared. so very, very scared.
Mum is terribly frail. The elevated pancreas index level may be related to the cancer having infiltrated the pancreas and causing a slow process of poisoning.
"How does mum feel?"
"She knows. She knows better than me what is happening."
"How do you feel?"
"Just like this... It's just like this."
"The doctor told me something today," brother said, "And I have to tell you. The next time if her intestines become blocked, she has only a month."
Shock.
Fear.
Realisation.
Terrible, terrible stomach pains.
Terrible, terrible agitation and the vision of the world spinning, collapsing.
"I understand," I said calmly. The calm was uncanny, surreal. The calm that was sheltering the turbulence and storm.
I want to rush there. I want to be there, I want to hold mum. I want to tell her I love her so much. I want to take away her fears, take away her pains, even though my own body, my own mind is filling with fears and agitation. But the exam needs to be written still. I have not yet begun revising. I am so torn and frustrated. What should I be feeling? What should I be prioritising?
I am so scared. so very, very scared.
Terrible restlessness
So horribly agitated. Had reserved this morning for revision before I board the flight to Vancouver to take the exam. But as soon as I spoke to brother, my mind wandered off. Who has the concentration to read about procedural fairness and judicial review? Who has the mind to think of court cases and exceeding jurisdiction when my mum is in hospital?
The last conversation with brother was brief. The phone cut out a little, but I heard something about an elevated pancreas index. Not sure what that means, but if it's six times the normal level, it cannot be good. It's probably life threatening. It's all related to the blockage in the duodenum, to the tumour that is there. I know it.
I can picture mum lying there in the ER, so thin, so frail, and again having to undergo another series of tests and scans... how depressed and saddened she must feel after spending so long at the hospital to have to return again...
Will decide moment by moment what to do. Am packing my large suitcase and taking the keys for the house in Taiwan just in case. I am so agitated and not sure what to do...
The last conversation with brother was brief. The phone cut out a little, but I heard something about an elevated pancreas index. Not sure what that means, but if it's six times the normal level, it cannot be good. It's probably life threatening. It's all related to the blockage in the duodenum, to the tumour that is there. I know it.
I can picture mum lying there in the ER, so thin, so frail, and again having to undergo another series of tests and scans... how depressed and saddened she must feel after spending so long at the hospital to have to return again...
Will decide moment by moment what to do. Am packing my large suitcase and taking the keys for the house in Taiwan just in case. I am so agitated and not sure what to do...
ER
Something is seriously wrong.
Called brother twice, once just now, once about two hours ago.
Every time he says he'll tell me later.
Can't study. Can't think of anything else. I'm so afraid...
Called brother twice, once just now, once about two hours ago.
Every time he says he'll tell me later.
Can't study. Can't think of anything else. I'm so afraid...
05 May 2012
Night before last night
05052012.0122
Should I be sad? Should I be mourning? Should I face the facts and allow my mood to sink?
Am I lying to myself by being hopeful? Am I fooling the world by not thinking too much about the doctor's words the day mum checked out of hospital?
"It is in the final stages (末期)..." was the only thing the doctor said. He did not know what to say when brother asked for a time. I personally find it somewhat distasteful. As if one could predict when or how or where death, or anything in life, will happen! And what does it matter really? So people could be nicer and do better if someone does not have much longer left? So you could start living more and doing more with your life if you know time is limited?
The doctor was kind to sit down with us for almost half an hour. He drew a picture diagram of mum's inside, and better than before I now can visualise what they did in terms of the surgery and what is causing the jaundice.
I know much of this already, so perhaps that's the reason why I just sat there and let the words wash over me. I felt like I was not in the room, like I was just a bystander, as brother asked the questions and the doctor answered and drew his diagram...
There is a large lump on the duodenum. It is causing food to be trapped in the stomach. They connected a lining of the small intestines to the stomach wall, so that at least some food can leave somewhat naturally down the intestines and be absorbed. The lump is growing larger. It has compressed against the wall of the bile duct, suppressing the flow of bile which normally enters the duodenum. Jaundice is caused when bile, a poisonous substance if not excreted, collects in the body, and it causes the body to turn yellow and causes the liver to slowly lose its functions. Hence mum's continuing tiredness and still yellowish skin tone.
"I discussed with other doctors, and the duodenum is no longer operable." This was contrary to what I was told before, when I was given that glimmer of hope. Hope mixed with anxiety, for back then I was already told it would be a major operation, and I dreaded mum having to face another long stint at the hospital and having to walk on the long road to recovery again... Now, the lump has grown too large, and an operation to remove the duodenum and reconnect the "tubing" in that region ( which involves cutting out a piece of the pancreas, rewiring the biliary tree and readjusting the stomach and intestines even more) is simply too much work and too risky. It's not worth the risk.
"We've done the best we could so your mother can eat. She may still throw up a bit, as some food will still collect in the stomach and not go down the reroute, but at the very least she can eat and drink like before."
As for the bile duct, they installed a tube that is longer and thicker to direct the flow of bile down to the unblocked part of the intestines. For now, it seems to work well, as mum's jaundice level has come down (but still is very high...), but at least the bile is channeled as intended and leaving the body. There is still an open wound and a tube coming out of it, and mum has to have the tube in her for a month or two. The wound has to be cleansed and addressed of every day. Any sign of her skin yellowing more or any sign of fever, she must immediately check into the hospital, for it may be an infection of the wound.
"She can go home and rest and eat. It's important that she eats well and gain back her strength," the doctor reminded us.
Brother is scared, he told me. He's scared of what may happen, and scares of mum's condition worsening. I reassured him in the best way I could. Though, admittedly, I am of course also scared.
"It doesn't matter what will happen in the future, don't think too much about things. They said three years ago mum doesn't have long. Even if something happens tomorrow, or next week, you're doing your best, and you will not be alone. You've got your wife, your kid, and I'll be back too." (momentarily, I must admit, there was a rise in jealousy and sense of longing, for I have none of the important, valuable sources of comfort and support I just mentioned.)
Whatever happens, I am here. I will be here to support you, to support and comfort mum till the very end, I heard myself saying in my head. "You just spend more time with mum, touch her, talk to her, make her feel comfortable and assured. There's nothing more important. There's nothing else we can do but those things."
Brother was silent, but I know he heard me, because I've said the same thing to him several times. And I strongly believe deep down, he also wants to play a role, but he just does not know how or where to start. And I've been also telling mum to give him (and his wife) a chance, not to judge too soon, not to have any preconceptions based on events and unhappiness in the past, but to let them demonstrate what they can do, to let them have their chance at being filial children.
I believe strongly that this is all part of "Operation Eternal Happiness", an effort from all sides to get together and make beautiful memories together to keep, and to keep for life, and to keep even after death. The ways I've seen my brother and sister-in-law bond an interact with mum over the past two days have been very promising. And my nephew's cute little face and multitude of expressions and sweet little bouts of giggles is a wonderful bonus to add to lightening mum's discomforts and adding to her impression that life has been wonderful, and that life continues to be worth all the hardship and pain...
Should I be sad? Should I be mourning? Should I face the facts and allow my mood to sink?
Am I lying to myself by being hopeful? Am I fooling the world by not thinking too much about the doctor's words the day mum checked out of hospital?
"It is in the final stages (末期)..." was the only thing the doctor said. He did not know what to say when brother asked for a time. I personally find it somewhat distasteful. As if one could predict when or how or where death, or anything in life, will happen! And what does it matter really? So people could be nicer and do better if someone does not have much longer left? So you could start living more and doing more with your life if you know time is limited?
The doctor was kind to sit down with us for almost half an hour. He drew a picture diagram of mum's inside, and better than before I now can visualise what they did in terms of the surgery and what is causing the jaundice.
I know much of this already, so perhaps that's the reason why I just sat there and let the words wash over me. I felt like I was not in the room, like I was just a bystander, as brother asked the questions and the doctor answered and drew his diagram...
There is a large lump on the duodenum. It is causing food to be trapped in the stomach. They connected a lining of the small intestines to the stomach wall, so that at least some food can leave somewhat naturally down the intestines and be absorbed. The lump is growing larger. It has compressed against the wall of the bile duct, suppressing the flow of bile which normally enters the duodenum. Jaundice is caused when bile, a poisonous substance if not excreted, collects in the body, and it causes the body to turn yellow and causes the liver to slowly lose its functions. Hence mum's continuing tiredness and still yellowish skin tone.
"I discussed with other doctors, and the duodenum is no longer operable." This was contrary to what I was told before, when I was given that glimmer of hope. Hope mixed with anxiety, for back then I was already told it would be a major operation, and I dreaded mum having to face another long stint at the hospital and having to walk on the long road to recovery again... Now, the lump has grown too large, and an operation to remove the duodenum and reconnect the "tubing" in that region ( which involves cutting out a piece of the pancreas, rewiring the biliary tree and readjusting the stomach and intestines even more) is simply too much work and too risky. It's not worth the risk.
"We've done the best we could so your mother can eat. She may still throw up a bit, as some food will still collect in the stomach and not go down the reroute, but at the very least she can eat and drink like before."
As for the bile duct, they installed a tube that is longer and thicker to direct the flow of bile down to the unblocked part of the intestines. For now, it seems to work well, as mum's jaundice level has come down (but still is very high...), but at least the bile is channeled as intended and leaving the body. There is still an open wound and a tube coming out of it, and mum has to have the tube in her for a month or two. The wound has to be cleansed and addressed of every day. Any sign of her skin yellowing more or any sign of fever, she must immediately check into the hospital, for it may be an infection of the wound.
"She can go home and rest and eat. It's important that she eats well and gain back her strength," the doctor reminded us.
Brother is scared, he told me. He's scared of what may happen, and scares of mum's condition worsening. I reassured him in the best way I could. Though, admittedly, I am of course also scared.
"It doesn't matter what will happen in the future, don't think too much about things. They said three years ago mum doesn't have long. Even if something happens tomorrow, or next week, you're doing your best, and you will not be alone. You've got your wife, your kid, and I'll be back too." (momentarily, I must admit, there was a rise in jealousy and sense of longing, for I have none of the important, valuable sources of comfort and support I just mentioned.)
Whatever happens, I am here. I will be here to support you, to support and comfort mum till the very end, I heard myself saying in my head. "You just spend more time with mum, touch her, talk to her, make her feel comfortable and assured. There's nothing more important. There's nothing else we can do but those things."
Brother was silent, but I know he heard me, because I've said the same thing to him several times. And I strongly believe deep down, he also wants to play a role, but he just does not know how or where to start. And I've been also telling mum to give him (and his wife) a chance, not to judge too soon, not to have any preconceptions based on events and unhappiness in the past, but to let them demonstrate what they can do, to let them have their chance at being filial children.
I believe strongly that this is all part of "Operation Eternal Happiness", an effort from all sides to get together and make beautiful memories together to keep, and to keep for life, and to keep even after death. The ways I've seen my brother and sister-in-law bond an interact with mum over the past two days have been very promising. And my nephew's cute little face and multitude of expressions and sweet little bouts of giggles is a wonderful bonus to add to lightening mum's discomforts and adding to her impression that life has been wonderful, and that life continues to be worth all the hardship and pain...
04 May 2012
Unfinished business
04052012.0138
So many things going through my mind right now... The nature of my random thoughts and disjointed writing style shows just how very scattered and lost my brain is...
I fell asleep, and managed to "sleep" for ten minutes, but was suddenly jolted out of sleep, and now am wide away at 1.42am...
The fact that I am leaving here in a little over 72hours is disturbing me. I feel like there is so much I still need to do, so much I still need to settle before I can board that plane with ease of mind...
Now that mum is/may be leaving hospital and heading home, I need to make the place safe for her and get special equipment in the washroom and toilet to make sure she can safely take care of basic needs. And I will need to tidy up her room, place the new mattress I bought for her on her bed before she returns home. So many things I planned to do before i left home today in a hurry. I never thought mum would be discharged so soon...
...and who will assist her when she showers? Or when she goes to the washroom? She is so weak she can hardly get out of bed without help, without someone having to " lift" her up. Her thin, frail arms have so little strength to prop her own body up...
And who will cook for her? Who will make sure she gets enough nutrients to restore her body to some degree o stable weight and relative good health? Who will monitor her eating and drinking? All I can hear is brother saying "I don't know what to cook..." What can he do then? What is his role in the picture and in the coming two months?
We can maybe ask the carer who's been with mum for the past two weeks to come for a short period of time. But in the long run, we will need to hire a long-term carer to stay with mum due to costs.
All these things here to be done and to think of. But I will have to think of my own life and my exam in a little over ten days!!!
So many things going through my mind right now... The nature of my random thoughts and disjointed writing style shows just how very scattered and lost my brain is...
I fell asleep, and managed to "sleep" for ten minutes, but was suddenly jolted out of sleep, and now am wide away at 1.42am...
The fact that I am leaving here in a little over 72hours is disturbing me. I feel like there is so much I still need to do, so much I still need to settle before I can board that plane with ease of mind...
Now that mum is/may be leaving hospital and heading home, I need to make the place safe for her and get special equipment in the washroom and toilet to make sure she can safely take care of basic needs. And I will need to tidy up her room, place the new mattress I bought for her on her bed before she returns home. So many things I planned to do before i left home today in a hurry. I never thought mum would be discharged so soon...
...and who will assist her when she showers? Or when she goes to the washroom? She is so weak she can hardly get out of bed without help, without someone having to " lift" her up. Her thin, frail arms have so little strength to prop her own body up...
And who will cook for her? Who will make sure she gets enough nutrients to restore her body to some degree o stable weight and relative good health? Who will monitor her eating and drinking? All I can hear is brother saying "I don't know what to cook..." What can he do then? What is his role in the picture and in the coming two months?
We can maybe ask the carer who's been with mum for the past two weeks to come for a short period of time. But in the long run, we will need to hire a long-term carer to stay with mum due to costs.
All these things here to be done and to think of. But I will have to think of my own life and my exam in a little over ten days!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)