Dream: on the bus

Earlier I saw a picture of brother and his family in Taiwan. They were together with all my relatives from mum's side, having the annual get together in this lunar new year period. I cried seeing the picture... They all look so happy together, and I'm not there to share the joy of being together as a family... Four generations, grandma, my mum's siblings, their children, and my nephew. All twenty or so of them together in a big picture...

I napped, as I slept only three hours or so last night (terrible sleeping patterns...)
I felt my body shake and move. I was on the bus in downtown Taipei. I saw the familiar surroundings, I recognised the route. It was the route I took everyday (almost) to and from the hospital... I felt the memories come back again... Mum lying in hospital, and me bringing her whatever nourishment I could think of buying or cooking up...

I shook awake. It was all a dream...
My relatives and my family are so far away... They are all a dream...

Dream: treatment

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...

Wall climbing

The pain in my muscles was excruciating. I felt like giving up, felt like letting go and just letting myself fall with gravity. It would have been an easy way out, just giving up and admit to myself I can't do it.

The pain made me break out in sweat all over. I felt like my arms were going to break, and that the fingers were going to snap. Altitude and gravity makes you feel so small an weak. One slip, and if I weren't safely secured to a rope which my friend held onto tightly,
I could have plummeted to my... downfall.

"I can't do it... I just can't do it..." I heard the weak self nag and echo in my head.

But I saw images of what happened at the hospital. I saw my sick mother lying there... I saw me crying because I was weak and afraid. "I can do it! I CAN do it!!"

And it was as If I found renewed strength from nowhere, as if the tiredness and soreness of my limbs and the scrapes and cuts of my skin and (slight) bleeding meant very little.

Before my eyes were images of moments with mum at the hospital. Those were truly testing times... Those were truly difficult times that were painful, truly painful (though not to forget, beautiful memories resulted from those times as well...)

I pulled myself up, reached further and hung on tighter despite the aches in my fingers and joints. I pushed myself to the limit, the way I was often pushed to the limit mentally over the past few years. And I made it to the top.

I screamed and cried out of excitement and a sense of achievement. I felt good to be alive, to be panting, sweating, aching. I felt alive!

And isn't it always like this? At the end of a long, tiring journey that is testing and trying, isn't it beautiful to let go and look back at where you came from and what difficulties you have overcome?

Dream

120612.0622

I saw mum. She was lying in the hospital bed. She had such difficulty breathing. She looked at me, her gaze was confused and she seemed lost. I held onto her hand.

"Let's go home, mama... Let's leave the hospital..." I said. I was calm, so surprisingly calm and collected. (would I really be like this when that moment comes...?)

I woke up. It was only six in the morning. It was the third time I woke up in the night, every time due to some dream the details of which I cannot remember. But they all had mum in them. They all took place at the hospital.

Mum is holding on. She wants to see me, she wants me to be there. Perhaps she is holding on long enough for me to arrive., so that I am spared the pain of watching her suffer and watching her deteriorate even further...

I am almost home, mum... Sorry I kept you waiting for so long... I am almost home. Please hang on there...

Hospital visits

8 visits to the CyberKnife surgeon, over 100 visits to the oncologist, mum's main physician, over 60 visits to the neurosurgeon...

Records do not lie. They reveal the unbelievable extent of mum's visits to the hospital in the course of the last six years. Brother went to the two hospitals where mum received her treatments to collect all the documentation necessary to file insurance claims. And the records prove that over the span of six years, mum has undergone such an ordeal. Her will has been so strong, she has been so brave, but the cancer is stronger. Too strong and now she is much weakened and close to defeat...

In and out, in and out, and in recent months more time has been spent in the hospital than outside of it. Appointments, checkups, indices, scans, blood tests, consultations filled with hope of treatment, and consultations filled with dreadful diagnoses and expectations of the worst to come. It has been such a long, long and difficult journey. One that mum embarked mostly on her own.

And it is perhaps coming to an end now that the hospice agreement has been signed. From now on, it is just a matter of treating the symptoms, soothing pain and reducing suffering.

In Vancouver

Just checked into the hotel downtown. Small room, a bit pricey, but it has a desk I can work on, and I can check out later in the day and head straight to the exam. It serves its purpose, and that's all I need.

It was a restless flight. I managed to doze off upon take off for half an hour or so. Read a bit, but my mind was very agitated and kept on wondering how things are with mum. It really felt like I was flying back home again, and if need be, I will fly back home. I have the keys and all the essentials, even though I just have a carry on with me. But really, what do you need in life? Less is more, and having nothing you have nothing to lose. I did a bit more studying, if it can be called that. But really, my mind kept on drifting home, drifting to mum, and was very disturbed by imaginations of likely scenarios, and how it would be when mum is no longer around.

First thing I did after I walked into the room (after knocking on the door, something mum has instilled in me, just in case there is "someone" there... And by "someone", it's not necessarily someone you can see...), I called home.  Brother told me not to worry, and that they came home late last night. Mum refused to stay at the hospital, and brother signed a waiver for her to be discharged. I asked to speak to mum, and she got on the phone. She sounded very weak, but kept on encouraging me, wishing me "Good luck!" She reminded me to also rest well and eat well.

I asked her how she was feeling, and as soon as I asked I realised perhaps I should not have. If she were feeling terrible, would she say it? She would have to lie, and that would make her feel even worse...  And now more than ever, mum needs happy news, positive news, good news, not things that would make her feel even worse. She told me she lost some more weight, down to 44kg now. "Why is it that I can't gain weight?" she asked me. I am afraid to say why, and all I said is that she should eat more, eat more meals spread out over the day.

 I chatted with her a bit, and she revealed she was breathless yesterday afternoon. Her blood pressure dropped dramatically, and she felt her heart struggling to beat. It had become very hot and humid, and she was too thrift to turn on the air con...

She's back home. She does not know I know about the complications of her pancreas, and the extreme measure of bile and pancreas fluids in her circulation system. It is good like this, for now. It is good to pretend that I do not know much, and that I will just focus on my exam. Because that is what she would want me to do.

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...

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...

Rush to ER

Called home just now.

Mum was rushed to ER, complaining of heart problems.

Brother said not to worry.
How could I not?

What is wrong...? What is wrong...?

Time with relatives

04052012.1127

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All in a day

03052012.1234

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

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

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

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


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

Hospital Carer

04053012.1729

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

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

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

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

Seven days

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

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

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

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

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

One step forward, two steps back

Mum sounded so tired on the phone, so tired I could hardly understand her. She said she slept poorly last night, a contrast from the nights before when she slept relatively well.

"What should I being for dinner?" I asked. It's my "standard" question these days, now that I'm at home the majority of the time and visit her only in the evenings. She said she didn't know what she wants to eat, and that she vomited earlier.

It's very frustrating to hear that, and hear the sound of her voice. For the past few months, it seems to be one step forward, and two steps back as her health gradually deteriorates. You have days and moments when you think she looks so well, well enough to be discharged. And next movements, the next day, you see her lie there looking so tired, struggling to breathe with the aid of a tube...

I went to see her tonight, and we had a good hour or so of alone time together, something rare since the 24hr carer was hired. I lounged by mum's bed side and we chatted. Now and then, I'd hold her hand and massage her fingers, and move her arm and her hand close to my face as if to kiss them.

I remembered my ex sending me a letter he wrote to my mum sometime back, which I only read last week and promised I'd translate to mum. And tonight I did just that.

I didn't translate word by word, but the general gist of the message. My ex was appreciative of my mum, foe welcoming him to our home(s), and for also being an inspiration to him, he said. All these years, he's watched from afar as she fights against the terrible illness of cancer, and he is deeply touched by my mum's strength and courage, and ability to translate pain into beautiful memories and moments. There were various lines praising me, going as far as saying I'm the greatest "gift" of all. I guess in a way my ex wants to reassure my mum whatever happens, she has raised a wonderful son who will carry on her legacy, her kindness and generosity.

Mum was silence as I translated the letter, but there was a moment when she moved her hand to the corner of her eye. Afterwards I asked her whether she had anything to say, but she said she was too tired to think. "Thank him for his care..." she said, and closed her eyes.

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...

Lightning

The sky is flashing every few seconds. a storm is brewing in the not too far distance. I'm sitting here again, in room 40, Ward 111, while mum falls asleep and lightly
 snores. an oppressively hot day, over 33C in the month of April, is about to end. heavy showers are expecte

d through the night.


i'm supposed to be home night, it was so agreed. so i delivered dinner at seven, and brother would take over at close to ten and stay the night. i was planning to go home nd have  good night of sleep, for it's been far too long...

Brother came as promised, all prepared to stay, and i explained to him things he needs to be aware of. he came with the will to stay, but his body was unwilling. he is still coughing and sneezing, and though he put on a mask when i told him to, mum was still concerned. And rightly so, for she is terribly, terribly frail now, and still has very little appetite. brother was very apologetic as he left...


so here i am again, the night carer. thinking i'd be homelater i didn't even bring any of my book to study. but i guessyoucould always improvise and still study by reading cases online. it's better than nothing at all...

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.

48 hours

I left the hospital, close to 48 hours since I last entered it. My head and body were itchy, as I've not showered in the same amount of time. But I was surprisingly not too tired. Perhaps because I "napped" till almost noon today, after going to sleep at close to two. Or perhaps the fatigue is yet to come when I collapse onto bed...

Seems I've entered a sort of routine of studying late at night after I've put mum to sleep. I don't really get much studying done, for before long it's already past one or two in the morning, which means I'll be woken up in a few hours by the doctors around seven when they conduct routine room checks. And every hour or so, the night nurse would come in and see me sit at the dressing table studying. In the few hours I do sit done to read, I can concentrate pretty well. Though there is so much material to cover, and it is extremely daunting to have to cover everything from scratch and through self-study in the next three weeks, at times I turn back and see mum lie there, I am reminded of the reasons why I am studying, why I must work hard:

yes, it's for myself in the end, but a large reason why I eagerly would like to sit this upcoming exam is for mum! To make her proud! To demonstrate to her that despite distractions and adverse circumstances, I (hopefully...) still can succeed what I set my mind to do. And hopefully, when she sees me do what I have to do, and go after my plans and dreams, she can feel at ease, and feel a semblance of comfort and happiness... It is my hope that that little bit of comfort and happiness can rub away a bit of the pain and discomforts she feels on a daily basis...

Fall

I took mum into the washroom, and closed the door behind me. I've done this a dozen times, but each time I'm ever vigilant and stand close by the door of the washroom to make sure I can hear mum if she calls me.

As the nurse asked me to measure the quantity of mum's urine, I placed a potty on top of the toilet lid for mum to use. Almost as soon as she sat down, I heard her cry for help.

I opened the door to see mum bent over, her hands supporting her body to prevent her from tipping over. I rushed to help her, but she slip off the toilet bowl and sat on the floor, her pants were still around her ankles. It was such a sorry, and painful sight...

Mum could not get up. She tried standing up, but she could not. A part of her urine which was in the potty spilled onto the floor, and she got some on her hospital-issue pants. The stench was very bad, and due to the blockage of her bile duct, and digestive system generally, her urine was particularly reddish, like iodine, and immediately dyed her pants.

I panicked and tried to pull mum up from the floor by putting my hands under her arms, but I could not. Her legs just would not stand. "I have no strength... No strength..." Again, it was such a sorry sight seeing mum sit on the floor with her pants around her ankles, and I am sure for her it wad particularly humiliating for her own son to see her almost fall and be half naked on the floor and unable to get up.

We struggled a bit, and eventually she grabbed onto bars installed around the toilet and together with support from me, she managed to get onto her wobbly feet again. We walked ever so slowly and quietly back to her bed. She lay down and curled up in a foetal position.

There seemed to be moisture in the corner of her eye. I suspect from the scare just now in the washroom, buy perhaps also from the huge blow to her dignity. She looked at ms with scared eyes, and I stroked her hand to reassure her. "It doesn't matter. It's over now..." She looked so helpless. She is so helpless.

I went back into the washroom to clear up the mess and to wash off some of the urine that had got onto my slippers. "Poor mum..."

My poor mum... How the illness has robbed her of much of her independence, mobility and increasingly also dignity...

Nth night

How many nights has mum spent at the hospital? How many nights have I slept here with her, waking up every so often to see if she needs anything?

I do not lament my fate, I do not complain what I need to do. I massage mum's back, I rub her shoulders with a gentle smile, and as I do it I wish and hope that the pain she feels will be reduced and that she can sleep well. I take her to the washroom, I "sniff" her to see if she's wet herself (or worse...) because she is my mother, and whatever condition she is in, she deserves to live life comfortably, with dignity and be clean.

One day, I will need to let all of this go. One day, I must learn to turn my back on all this, and let someone else take over. Turning my back on mum does not mean I do not care anymore.

Because I do care, I do care so much because I wish her the best and I wish her to be comfortable and free from suffering. But I have things I must accomplish, I have goals I must pursue, and I must do them for myself, I must do them for mum to see that I can live on my own, and I can take care of myself no matter what.

Sleep, mum, sleep... I'm here only a few steps from you whenever you need me, I'm here for whatever you need, and all you need to do is call my name.

But you and I know one day, I will have to go away, and I hope you will not be too sad. You need only call my name, and I'll be back again.