I heard some noise and approached mum. I reached her bedside just in time to see her gag. Quickly I scrambled for a plastic bag, and she vomited white mouthfuls of Ensure, the drink that is supposed to contain all necessary nutrients. I gagged too, just a natural reflex. Having just downed a cup of soy drink did not help the nausea and feeling like I want to vomit...
I was in a rush to head out. The monk is definitely coming and I had to be at the main station in half an hour or so. Mum suddenly requested that she would like to have some steamed barley rice, available only at vegetarian food outlets. I had no time to go look for it and bring it back for mum.
As Brother was on his way to the hospital, I decided to call him and ask if he could buy some. He got angry at my request, as if it were such a burden to buy something for mum. I know it's last minute, I know he's busy on his way to have breakfast and has to take care of a child. But this is a request from mum, and he is on his way to the hospital anyway. Irritated, he passed the phone to his wife. I had to explain mum's request again.
I rushed to the station. We are out of fresh fruits, and i was tempted to call back and ask for fruits. But given the reaction I got, I decided to go get them myself. I know best what mum likes, so I got her some picked peaches, pineapples and kiwis. Breakfast I had on the go, a piece of bread and drink I devoured and downed in the four minutes walk to the metro.
On my way to meet the monk...
20 June 2012
Dream
What a disturbing dream... Was with my ex, and we were in such a rush to get to a restaurant. We made it in the brink of time...
We were eating, and I had my ex's favourite bear with me. He gave me the bear to take with me on my last few trips back here, and the bear has accompanied mum and I on several trips together. The bear has such a beautiful and permeant smile on his face...
My ex was talking about something, j forget what, but it was related to mum and one of our travels. Then I saw the bear suddenly sob and cry. The bear was no longer smiling, but crying uncontrollably...
We were eating, and I had my ex's favourite bear with me. He gave me the bear to take with me on my last few trips back here, and the bear has accompanied mum and I on several trips together. The bear has such a beautiful and permeant smile on his face...
My ex was talking about something, j forget what, but it was related to mum and one of our travels. Then I saw the bear suddenly sob and cry. The bear was no longer smiling, but crying uncontrollably...
The phone call
I called my 'small' uncle (mum's youngest brother) in the afternoon, but could not reach him. The reason why I called was because I wanted him to know about mum's condition. And in a way, also to urge him to come see mum.
He just called back. He had seen pictures of us and mum on facebook, one with her and I on the balcony taken last week, and another one from today, of me washing her hair in the special bathroom. "Your mum looks well on the pictures..." he said.
I didn't know how to respond. When my uncle asked how mum is, I said she has been sleeping a lot. "Even after a long night of sleep, she sleeps and is very drowsy. She sleeps and sleeps, and eats very little. The doctor said it's a sign..."
"I understand," my uncle suddenly sounded solemn and sad. How could he not?
"I wanted to call and let you know earlier. I know how close you two are..."
"Yes, 'big' sister has always been so good to me..." he said.
I was almost crying. Perhaps he was too. "And you have been so good to her, to us..." My uncle really has, always willing to step in to lend a hand, whether financially or otherwise. He treated mum on a trip to visit us the children a few years back when mum had very little money. He paid for mum's flight to Canada last year, saying he wanted a part in realising a dream of hers. He paid upfront the costs of the spinal surgery, and was there waiting outside the operating room last December... He has been so good to mum, and visits her almost every single week.
"I will come up either tomorrow or the day after," he said.
"Thank you..."
He just called back. He had seen pictures of us and mum on facebook, one with her and I on the balcony taken last week, and another one from today, of me washing her hair in the special bathroom. "Your mum looks well on the pictures..." he said.
I didn't know how to respond. When my uncle asked how mum is, I said she has been sleeping a lot. "Even after a long night of sleep, she sleeps and is very drowsy. She sleeps and sleeps, and eats very little. The doctor said it's a sign..."
"I understand," my uncle suddenly sounded solemn and sad. How could he not?
"I wanted to call and let you know earlier. I know how close you two are..."
"Yes, 'big' sister has always been so good to me..." he said.
I was almost crying. Perhaps he was too. "And you have been so good to her, to us..." My uncle really has, always willing to step in to lend a hand, whether financially or otherwise. He treated mum on a trip to visit us the children a few years back when mum had very little money. He paid for mum's flight to Canada last year, saying he wanted a part in realising a dream of hers. He paid upfront the costs of the spinal surgery, and was there waiting outside the operating room last December... He has been so good to mum, and visits her almost every single week.
"I will come up either tomorrow or the day after," he said.
"Thank you..."
Watching DVDs
"Why are you wasting money buying..." brother said in a irritated tone. I stared at him and gave him an angry look before he could finish his sentence. He meant to say I was wasting money buying travel DVDs for mum to watch at the hospice...
"How can you be like this...?" I asked him back. Deep down, I wanted to say: "How can you even think of money? Do you know how long mum has?!" I didn't say it, because mum was there. But I was upset how he could even talk about money, about "wasting" money, when I just want to let mum look at places she has been and review sights she has seen before.
I put a DVD I bought the other day in, and got out the dishes I bought at the restaurant. Mum again had a request, one from last night, but I could not fulfil her request before because I could not find a place where they sold what she wanted. But today it occurred to me where I could buy typical Taiwanese dishes, dishes that remind her of the "olden days" and her childhood-- dishes that take the taste buds and memories back to the era of my grandma...
The taste of poached egg with garlic and pickled turnip, the taste of crispy fried pork rib, the pungent taste of oyster in black bean sauce, and the decadent smell of fish roe fried rice. The scent of these dishes filled the room as the large flatscreen tv began playing scenes of Hokkaido in winter time.
"didn't you and mum go there before during winter? Was it like this too?" I asked brother. Mum asked for her glasses, and brother looked up at the screen, captured by scenes of snow covered mountains and valleys.
"Yes, it was like that..."
Again, beautiful memories relieved, stories were shared, and mum smiled as she ate little bites of what she so wanted to eat.
Could any joy be more simple, more beautiful?
"How can you be like this...?" I asked him back. Deep down, I wanted to say: "How can you even think of money? Do you know how long mum has?!" I didn't say it, because mum was there. But I was upset how he could even talk about money, about "wasting" money, when I just want to let mum look at places she has been and review sights she has seen before.
I put a DVD I bought the other day in, and got out the dishes I bought at the restaurant. Mum again had a request, one from last night, but I could not fulfil her request before because I could not find a place where they sold what she wanted. But today it occurred to me where I could buy typical Taiwanese dishes, dishes that remind her of the "olden days" and her childhood-- dishes that take the taste buds and memories back to the era of my grandma...
The taste of poached egg with garlic and pickled turnip, the taste of crispy fried pork rib, the pungent taste of oyster in black bean sauce, and the decadent smell of fish roe fried rice. The scent of these dishes filled the room as the large flatscreen tv began playing scenes of Hokkaido in winter time."didn't you and mum go there before during winter? Was it like this too?" I asked brother. Mum asked for her glasses, and brother looked up at the screen, captured by scenes of snow covered mountains and valleys.
"Yes, it was like that..."
Again, beautiful memories relieved, stories were shared, and mum smiled as she ate little bites of what she so wanted to eat.
Could any joy be more simple, more beautiful?
Visit
I didn't know how to ask, because in all honesty it's more like a request. And I was afraid it would be declined. But I have been thinking of asking the monk who lives in the mountains to come see mum. And I finally did it just now.
Mum didn't ask for him. But I think she would be very touched if she could see him again. The monk said yes. I kept on thanking him, and was moved to tears...
He will need to see how to arrange to visit, because it's not convenient for him to travel, and he needs an attendant. I am also aware that coming to see mum would be an emotional experience, for his closest disciple passed away only three year ago and also due to cancer, so seeing mum in her current state of health would perhaps evoke painful memories. In fact, when I mentioned mum was sleeping a lot, the monk said that was the same with his disciple in those final days...
It still has to be seen when and whether he can make it. But I know his visit and his presence would bring mum great comfort. And I am moved to tears just thinking about it...
Mum didn't ask for him. But I think she would be very touched if she could see him again. The monk said yes. I kept on thanking him, and was moved to tears...
He will need to see how to arrange to visit, because it's not convenient for him to travel, and he needs an attendant. I am also aware that coming to see mum would be an emotional experience, for his closest disciple passed away only three year ago and also due to cancer, so seeing mum in her current state of health would perhaps evoke painful memories. In fact, when I mentioned mum was sleeping a lot, the monk said that was the same with his disciple in those final days...
It still has to be seen when and whether he can make it. But I know his visit and his presence would bring mum great comfort. And I am moved to tears just thinking about it...
19 June 2012
Bath time
Mum looks forward to bath time like an excited girl. Almost every day she asks if there is a slot open for her. There is only one special bathroom which caters to patients who are unable to bathe themselves. And to take a bath, you need the assistance of at least a nurse and two volunteers, so it's a big effort, and so the availability is limited, and mum can only get to use it one every two, three days or so.
The nurse came in in the morning and told her that she is third in line. "Do I have to wait long? Last time I waited till the afternoon..." mum said. Moments later, the nurse came back and said she did some rearranging, and mum could go first. A smile lit up on mum's face immediately.
A volunteer auntie came in. "You should go inside and bathe your mum! Go, don't be shy! Just remember your mum used to bathe you when you were little, and now you can help her bathe. It is a very special experience, something to remember."
Personally, I actually am not shy about it. But I am afraid mum would be. Last time (I wasn't at the hospital at that particular moment...) when mum bathed, brother was told to go outside and wait. I went to help get fresh linen to change the bed while mum is in the bath, and when I came back into her room, the same auntie came up to me excitedly: "You have been chosen! Your mum wants you to go in with her!" I looked at mum, and though she said nothing, there was a look of agreement on her face. Brother was in the room too, together with his wife and baby. "You should come too," I urged him, and in the end, our whole family went into the bathroom together.
The tub was already filled with warm water, and at mum's request it was "especially warm". "I want to enjoy it more," she told the nurse before she was wheeled into the bathroom. The nurse, carer and volunteer auntie covered mum's 'parts' up with cloth, and slowly lowered her down into the tub. "Don't worry, the special bits will all be covered up by the bubbles!" the nurse joked.
Mum seemed to sigh. The expression on her face was one of bliss and enjoyment. She told me before that when she is bathing, even if it lasts only fifteen minutes or so, she feels like she is drifting. Drifting and feeling very light. It is a wonderful feeling, she said. And for those few moments when she is drifting in the water, the sores, the pains, the physical discomforts seem to melt away into the warmth of the tub. Tub with massaging jets and temperature control!
My brother and sister-in-law and I stood by the side and watched, a little unsure what we could do to help. "Come! Come help wash her hair!" the volunteer auntie beckoned. I was excited, but mum looked a bit unsure. She has before complained that I cannot wash my own hair properly, so she must be thinking how I would manage to wash her hair. "Don't worry, your son can do it. He can give your scalp a nice massage!"
Squeezing some shampoo onto the palm of my hand, I began to moisten mum's hair. Slowly at first, as I was unsure whether mum would feel any pain, I massaged her scalp. First it was with one hand, then it was with two. I jokingly imitated what they ask at the hairdressers when they wash your hair: "Is there anywhere you need extra attention with?" At that moment, mum had her eyes closed, I later learned from a picture that was taken of me washing her hair. At that moment, with her eyes closed, mum looked like she was lost in a blissful, blissful dream...
I massaged her head for a short while, and turned to my brother: "You go!" I urged him, tried to persuade him with gestures of my foamy hands and smile. He smiled nervously, and looked very awkward. I rinsed my hands clean, and walked up closer to him. "Go on, it's a very special experience..." Deep down, I was thinking to myself "What are you afraid of? She is our mother. This might be the first and only time you will get to do this for her..." He still looked very embarrassed, but in the end he went to stand behind mum and did what I just did. I stood by the side and smiled. Inside I was tearing, as I am tearing now. Tearing because it was so beautiful. So very beautiful...
While brother massaged mum's head, I reached into the tub and helped scrub mum's body. My fingers felt every bone of her ribs, felt the contours of her spine through the thin layer of aged skin on mum's back. Mum's legs have become so thin she can no longer stand and carry her own weight. Her hips protrude sharply and her thin arms lay by her side. Mum looked so helpless, so much like a small child who needed the constant protection and care of others. Cancer did this to her, cancer made her so frail, so ill, so thin... Cancer is weakening her body bit by bit, bit by bit...
But I smiled at mum, smiled at the experience of being able to help bathe her, clean her and make her feel comfortable and loved. Cancer can ravage her body, cancer will take her away from me soon, but it cannot ravage or take away this beautiful moment and memory created with mum and my entire family, a moment when we bonded at a whole new different level...
Back in her bed, mum smelled good, and her skin felt smooth and clean to the touch. I leaned in close and grabbed one of her arms and placed it on my cheek. Her body felt warm. "You comfortable and clean now?" Mum nodded slightly, and on her face was still the smile that could hardly contain the sensation of bliss, contentment and being at ease...
"Rest well, mum," I said softly as I rubbed her arm against my face and kissed her hand gently, "Rest well..." Mum closed her eyes, and on her face was that smile still.
The nurse came in in the morning and told her that she is third in line. "Do I have to wait long? Last time I waited till the afternoon..." mum said. Moments later, the nurse came back and said she did some rearranging, and mum could go first. A smile lit up on mum's face immediately.
A volunteer auntie came in. "You should go inside and bathe your mum! Go, don't be shy! Just remember your mum used to bathe you when you were little, and now you can help her bathe. It is a very special experience, something to remember."
Personally, I actually am not shy about it. But I am afraid mum would be. Last time (I wasn't at the hospital at that particular moment...) when mum bathed, brother was told to go outside and wait. I went to help get fresh linen to change the bed while mum is in the bath, and when I came back into her room, the same auntie came up to me excitedly: "You have been chosen! Your mum wants you to go in with her!" I looked at mum, and though she said nothing, there was a look of agreement on her face. Brother was in the room too, together with his wife and baby. "You should come too," I urged him, and in the end, our whole family went into the bathroom together.
The tub was already filled with warm water, and at mum's request it was "especially warm". "I want to enjoy it more," she told the nurse before she was wheeled into the bathroom. The nurse, carer and volunteer auntie covered mum's 'parts' up with cloth, and slowly lowered her down into the tub. "Don't worry, the special bits will all be covered up by the bubbles!" the nurse joked.
Mum seemed to sigh. The expression on her face was one of bliss and enjoyment. She told me before that when she is bathing, even if it lasts only fifteen minutes or so, she feels like she is drifting. Drifting and feeling very light. It is a wonderful feeling, she said. And for those few moments when she is drifting in the water, the sores, the pains, the physical discomforts seem to melt away into the warmth of the tub. Tub with massaging jets and temperature control!
My brother and sister-in-law and I stood by the side and watched, a little unsure what we could do to help. "Come! Come help wash her hair!" the volunteer auntie beckoned. I was excited, but mum looked a bit unsure. She has before complained that I cannot wash my own hair properly, so she must be thinking how I would manage to wash her hair. "Don't worry, your son can do it. He can give your scalp a nice massage!"
Squeezing some shampoo onto the palm of my hand, I began to moisten mum's hair. Slowly at first, as I was unsure whether mum would feel any pain, I massaged her scalp. First it was with one hand, then it was with two. I jokingly imitated what they ask at the hairdressers when they wash your hair: "Is there anywhere you need extra attention with?" At that moment, mum had her eyes closed, I later learned from a picture that was taken of me washing her hair. At that moment, with her eyes closed, mum looked like she was lost in a blissful, blissful dream...I massaged her head for a short while, and turned to my brother: "You go!" I urged him, tried to persuade him with gestures of my foamy hands and smile. He smiled nervously, and looked very awkward. I rinsed my hands clean, and walked up closer to him. "Go on, it's a very special experience..." Deep down, I was thinking to myself "What are you afraid of? She is our mother. This might be the first and only time you will get to do this for her..." He still looked very embarrassed, but in the end he went to stand behind mum and did what I just did. I stood by the side and smiled. Inside I was tearing, as I am tearing now. Tearing because it was so beautiful. So very beautiful...
While brother massaged mum's head, I reached into the tub and helped scrub mum's body. My fingers felt every bone of her ribs, felt the contours of her spine through the thin layer of aged skin on mum's back. Mum's legs have become so thin she can no longer stand and carry her own weight. Her hips protrude sharply and her thin arms lay by her side. Mum looked so helpless, so much like a small child who needed the constant protection and care of others. Cancer did this to her, cancer made her so frail, so ill, so thin... Cancer is weakening her body bit by bit, bit by bit...
But I smiled at mum, smiled at the experience of being able to help bathe her, clean her and make her feel comfortable and loved. Cancer can ravage her body, cancer will take her away from me soon, but it cannot ravage or take away this beautiful moment and memory created with mum and my entire family, a moment when we bonded at a whole new different level...
Back in her bed, mum smelled good, and her skin felt smooth and clean to the touch. I leaned in close and grabbed one of her arms and placed it on my cheek. Her body felt warm. "You comfortable and clean now?" Mum nodded slightly, and on her face was still the smile that could hardly contain the sensation of bliss, contentment and being at ease...
"Rest well, mum," I said softly as I rubbed her arm against my face and kissed her hand gently, "Rest well..." Mum closed her eyes, and on her face was that smile still.
Changes
The carer came into the room. "She's changing..."
I initially didn't understand what she meant.
"Her body is changing. Her body is very yellow, she's excreting less bile now, and she sleeps a lot." She said she just asked mum whether she wanted to drink Ensure, and mum nodded yes. Within the time the carer went to pick up the cup and go back to mum, mum fell asleep, and was snoring.
"It may be soon..."
I initially didn't understand what she meant.
"Her body is changing. Her body is very yellow, she's excreting less bile now, and she sleeps a lot." She said she just asked mum whether she wanted to drink Ensure, and mum nodded yes. Within the time the carer went to pick up the cup and go back to mum, mum fell asleep, and was snoring.
"It may be soon..."
Night nurse
The night nurse came in for an inspection at half past ten. I was just about to retire to my little room and mattress on the floor when she came in. It was the same kind nurse who shared with me her experience of terminally ill patients and what signs to look for at the end...
The carer described mum's condition today and how much she ate and expelled. "Half a can of Ensure, half a cup of fruit juice, then nothing after ten in the morning," she said, "And for dinner, six spoonfuls of congee, two mouthfuls of vegetables. That's it." I was here almost all the time, and that really was it. Even the two pieces of wonton I saved her for lunch were uneaten, and I had to finish eating them at dinner...
"And she's not expelled much," the carer added, "Nothing since lunch time" Which was over six hours ago. I looked at the nurse to see her reaction. She stayed quiet, and looked like she was deep in thought. Was she thinking what I was thinking? Was she thinking what she told me the other day about patients not expelling much towards the end...?
Mum lay on her side, and she groaned a little. All this exchange took place in a whisper. I said not a thing, but just sat on the side as the nurse and the carer conversed about mum's condition... I looked at mum, looked at the nurse and carer. Again, there was a moment of realisation...
It may not be long...
The carer described mum's condition today and how much she ate and expelled. "Half a can of Ensure, half a cup of fruit juice, then nothing after ten in the morning," she said, "And for dinner, six spoonfuls of congee, two mouthfuls of vegetables. That's it." I was here almost all the time, and that really was it. Even the two pieces of wonton I saved her for lunch were uneaten, and I had to finish eating them at dinner...
"And she's not expelled much," the carer added, "Nothing since lunch time" Which was over six hours ago. I looked at the nurse to see her reaction. She stayed quiet, and looked like she was deep in thought. Was she thinking what I was thinking? Was she thinking what she told me the other day about patients not expelling much towards the end...?
Mum lay on her side, and she groaned a little. All this exchange took place in a whisper. I said not a thing, but just sat on the side as the nurse and the carer conversed about mum's condition... I looked at mum, looked at the nurse and carer. Again, there was a moment of realisation...
It may not be long...
More DVDs!
In the pouring rain (a new typhoon is headed this way!) I ran to the department store. I knew what I wanted, but the question is whether they are available.
Following the successful showing of the travel DVDs on Canada, I thought it would be great if mum could watch more DVDs on other countries she been to. The Netherlands, France, Switzerland, Japan... So many places she enjoys visiting, and I am sure she would love to see again.
I went to the store and looked around.I find only a few DVDs with scenery and classical music, but only for switzerland and Hokkaido (Japan). I found two more DVDs on deep sea marine life and the universe, also set to music, and I thought mum might enjoy those too.
During dinner, we watch the DVD on switzerland. Beautiful colours and sceneries of mountains and lakes, castles and little medieval towns. I saw mum's face brighten up, and that made me smile. She is reliving memories and I hope also reminding herself that she has seen and done so much in her life...
Following the successful showing of the travel DVDs on Canada, I thought it would be great if mum could watch more DVDs on other countries she been to. The Netherlands, France, Switzerland, Japan... So many places she enjoys visiting, and I am sure she would love to see again.
I went to the store and looked around.I find only a few DVDs with scenery and classical music, but only for switzerland and Hokkaido (Japan). I found two more DVDs on deep sea marine life and the universe, also set to music, and I thought mum might enjoy those too.
During dinner, we watch the DVD on switzerland. Beautiful colours and sceneries of mountains and lakes, castles and little medieval towns. I saw mum's face brighten up, and that made me smile. She is reliving memories and I hope also reminding herself that she has seen and done so much in her life...
Conflict
I went home today in the morning, and even before I opened the door, i heard some shouting. Later I found out what.
The source of the conflict is mum's farewell ceremony (as it is know in Taiwan, in other words the funeral). It'll be held at the funeral parlor, which is a large site run by the city government containing several halls where funeral services can be held. If it is like how dad's funeral was arranged, we will be given a time slot, after which the body will be taken to the crematorium and cremated. Last time it was easy, because it was just adults. But this time, we have a little baby.
First of all, my nephew is getting more capricious and difficult to handle. He really cannot sit still for more than five minutes without whining or crying, so it's really not appropriate for him to be present at the funeral. Second of all, in local beliefs, very young children are supposed to be more 'sensitive' to the supernatural, and tend to also be more susceptible to 'interference' by spirits. It is not so much mum's spirit we are afraid of, but rather the spirits of others who are lingering around the place. And god only knows how many there are, especially at a crematorium!
My sister-in-law resolutely opposes taking my nephew to the funeral, mainly because she is afraid of how it will affect the baby. Brother said that ever since my nephew came back to Taipei to stay with us, he has been suddenly waking up in the middle of the night crying. Is it related to what he sees at the hospital when he visits mum? Who knows. Whatever the reason, my sister-in-law does not want the baby to be there. She can be there, and she will be there, but just not the baby...
But this may contravene some Taiwanese traditions, for the funeral is the final "farewell ceremony", and all the children and grandchildren are supposed to be there. It may even be seen as bad omen if the grandchildren are not there, for it may forespell bad fortunes for future generations to come. Whether this is superstition or myth, the absence of my nephew at the event may trigger some talk amongst family members...
So that was the argument, and while brother and I went to look for a place to place mum's temporary shine in the morning, my sister-in-law came to see mum and told her about her worries about my nephew. She somehow went home and ended up crying, I'm not sure what about or why. All I know is this issue is a strain on my brother and his wife's relationship.
I told brother over dinner to talk things through with her, and to try to find a compromise. "Be kind and gentle, don't force things," I told him. It's bad enough there have been tensions because of brother's bad temper these days, we don't need him to come across as unsympathetic and trying to force something his wife does not feel comfortable doing. Later, brother revealed to me that he himself is not too keen on the idea of taking his baby boy to the funeral parlor. "You remember that day when dad was cremated and when we had to pick his bones?" He was referring to a Taiwanese tradition, whereby the next of kin remaining are expected to pick up a piece of the bone of the deceased and place it into the urn. "Such a cruel tradition! I still have dreams about that till this day..." brother said. It is obvious that some of the traditions here offend him and he is uncomfortable himself, let alone have his very young boy exposed to a lot of things...
In the meantime, I spoke to mum again and explained the situation. Somehow, I seem to be able to get her attention and understanding, and mum did not feel offended or angry any more. Her initial response was that she did not wish my sister-in-law to be at the funeral, which would have been a terrible indictment and cause considerable strain on their marriage (I would imagine....). But after I explained and tried to give mum all angles to the story, she softened and said she would not mind if the grandchild/my nephew were not there on that day. "He will go visit you in your resting place, that is for sure," I assured mum, "But it's just not convenient for him to be at the funeral. You see how noisy and unruly he can become, even just at the hospital!"
So for now, a crisis seems to have been averted. And I am glad I was able to play a role in lubricating the wheels and playing the peacemaker....
The source of the conflict is mum's farewell ceremony (as it is know in Taiwan, in other words the funeral). It'll be held at the funeral parlor, which is a large site run by the city government containing several halls where funeral services can be held. If it is like how dad's funeral was arranged, we will be given a time slot, after which the body will be taken to the crematorium and cremated. Last time it was easy, because it was just adults. But this time, we have a little baby.
First of all, my nephew is getting more capricious and difficult to handle. He really cannot sit still for more than five minutes without whining or crying, so it's really not appropriate for him to be present at the funeral. Second of all, in local beliefs, very young children are supposed to be more 'sensitive' to the supernatural, and tend to also be more susceptible to 'interference' by spirits. It is not so much mum's spirit we are afraid of, but rather the spirits of others who are lingering around the place. And god only knows how many there are, especially at a crematorium!
My sister-in-law resolutely opposes taking my nephew to the funeral, mainly because she is afraid of how it will affect the baby. Brother said that ever since my nephew came back to Taipei to stay with us, he has been suddenly waking up in the middle of the night crying. Is it related to what he sees at the hospital when he visits mum? Who knows. Whatever the reason, my sister-in-law does not want the baby to be there. She can be there, and she will be there, but just not the baby...
But this may contravene some Taiwanese traditions, for the funeral is the final "farewell ceremony", and all the children and grandchildren are supposed to be there. It may even be seen as bad omen if the grandchildren are not there, for it may forespell bad fortunes for future generations to come. Whether this is superstition or myth, the absence of my nephew at the event may trigger some talk amongst family members...
So that was the argument, and while brother and I went to look for a place to place mum's temporary shine in the morning, my sister-in-law came to see mum and told her about her worries about my nephew. She somehow went home and ended up crying, I'm not sure what about or why. All I know is this issue is a strain on my brother and his wife's relationship.
I told brother over dinner to talk things through with her, and to try to find a compromise. "Be kind and gentle, don't force things," I told him. It's bad enough there have been tensions because of brother's bad temper these days, we don't need him to come across as unsympathetic and trying to force something his wife does not feel comfortable doing. Later, brother revealed to me that he himself is not too keen on the idea of taking his baby boy to the funeral parlor. "You remember that day when dad was cremated and when we had to pick his bones?" He was referring to a Taiwanese tradition, whereby the next of kin remaining are expected to pick up a piece of the bone of the deceased and place it into the urn. "Such a cruel tradition! I still have dreams about that till this day..." brother said. It is obvious that some of the traditions here offend him and he is uncomfortable himself, let alone have his very young boy exposed to a lot of things...
In the meantime, I spoke to mum again and explained the situation. Somehow, I seem to be able to get her attention and understanding, and mum did not feel offended or angry any more. Her initial response was that she did not wish my sister-in-law to be at the funeral, which would have been a terrible indictment and cause considerable strain on their marriage (I would imagine....). But after I explained and tried to give mum all angles to the story, she softened and said she would not mind if the grandchild/my nephew were not there on that day. "He will go visit you in your resting place, that is for sure," I assured mum, "But it's just not convenient for him to be at the funeral. You see how noisy and unruly he can become, even just at the hospital!"
So for now, a crisis seems to have been averted. And I am glad I was able to play a role in lubricating the wheels and playing the peacemaker....
This is the law!
I was surprised to hear that when mum passes we cannot go home and make a temporary altar for her at home to shelter her spirit. brother went to ask the governing committee of our apartment, and they said their regulation is such.
But I have not seen such regulation. Legal studies has taught me not to believe in anything you have not yourself scrutinised.
Most basic of all, a ban on having any altar placed in one's private home violates common sense. Why can you not do something in the privacy of your own home? As a policeman I inquired said, if you want to turn your home into a garbage dump you can! Even the police need a warrant to come and search, so how can a self-appointed "committee" have such far reaching powers? "They're inflating their own powers! Put it crudely, will those people not have people die in their homes?"
And according to the law, there is no such law! I called the city government's funeral services department, and the lady on the phone said if there is such a regulation adopted by the governing committee, it is preposterous. She was even more worked up than I was, and I was pretty upset. She even told me to go back to the committee and tone it down and explain to them that there is no such law prohibiting the establishment of an altar in the privacy of one's own home.
I wanted to verify, and also get even more support when I come to speak to the committee about this issue again, so I headed to the police station and sought advice. Two policemen were extremely kind and helpful. There is such a thing (just as I suspected...) as customs and rituals which must be respected no matter what. The law does not operate in a vacuum, and I have faith in the legal system in this country to be fair and just. The police confirmed my thoughts about the law being applied with due regard to the specific circumstances and context of the local customs. Any regulation, even if promulgated by the national legislature, let alone a puny "governing committee" of some apartment building, which contradicts a long standing custom or tradition that is not too obscene or contrary to modern day standards, can be struck down and declared void by the court.
The policeman said we don't need to go that far as to go to court, for emphasised that the law is on our side. Why can one not return to one's own home even after you have passed away? What pompous powers have the "governing committee" granted themselves that the government does not even dare to do--ie regulate and interfere with one's right to worship the deceased or follow one's religious or customary beliefs? "Don't care too much about they said. You just go ahead with you plans, and if there's anything, just call us!" one policeman said as he proceeded to write down the number of a direct line. As long as any noise we create does not result in a constant nuisance, the building's "governing committee" or neighbours who should complain cannot do anything to stop us from practising a long-standing customary rite to pay respects to one's deceased. "And if they do complain, we'll just come and the most we'll do is issue a written notice. We won't do anything against your right to worship!"
Reassured, I went back home and spoke to the building manager. I was polite and spoke in Taiwanese to give that sense of familiarity and comradery. Initially he told me what he told my brother last week: that the building committee decided not to allow such private altars be placed in the building. His explanation was that people would complain if too many friends or relatives came to pay respects, as it would disturb the peace. I smiled and turned the comment he made back at him. "Isn't it strange that when someone is still alive it would be ok to invite a bunch of people over, and yet to have people when someone is no longer living would be a problem?" He had nothing to respond to that, and proceeded to call one of the members of this "governing committee".
A lady came down, and I explained what we wanted to do. "We just want to take mum home after she passes. All we want is to erect a little altar to direct her spirit home." That really is all we want. No fanfare, no grand ceremony, we do not even plan to take the body home (as some do do...) and keep it at home until the day of the funeral. We won't be in anyone's way.
Bizarrely, the lady relented and said it would be not a problem-- which was not what I was expecting after what was said to my brother last week. I had rehearsed all I had learned from the call to the city government and from what I learned at the police station. I was ready to cite constitutional rights to privacy and how certain regulations can be voided if they contradict long standing customs and rites. But it was not necessary. The battle was won even before it began.
Delighted, I told brother the great news. News that saves us a lot of worry and also a lot of time and money needed to look for an alternative place for mum's altar when she passes away...
But I have not seen such regulation. Legal studies has taught me not to believe in anything you have not yourself scrutinised.
Most basic of all, a ban on having any altar placed in one's private home violates common sense. Why can you not do something in the privacy of your own home? As a policeman I inquired said, if you want to turn your home into a garbage dump you can! Even the police need a warrant to come and search, so how can a self-appointed "committee" have such far reaching powers? "They're inflating their own powers! Put it crudely, will those people not have people die in their homes?"
And according to the law, there is no such law! I called the city government's funeral services department, and the lady on the phone said if there is such a regulation adopted by the governing committee, it is preposterous. She was even more worked up than I was, and I was pretty upset. She even told me to go back to the committee and tone it down and explain to them that there is no such law prohibiting the establishment of an altar in the privacy of one's own home.
I wanted to verify, and also get even more support when I come to speak to the committee about this issue again, so I headed to the police station and sought advice. Two policemen were extremely kind and helpful. There is such a thing (just as I suspected...) as customs and rituals which must be respected no matter what. The law does not operate in a vacuum, and I have faith in the legal system in this country to be fair and just. The police confirmed my thoughts about the law being applied with due regard to the specific circumstances and context of the local customs. Any regulation, even if promulgated by the national legislature, let alone a puny "governing committee" of some apartment building, which contradicts a long standing custom or tradition that is not too obscene or contrary to modern day standards, can be struck down and declared void by the court.
The policeman said we don't need to go that far as to go to court, for emphasised that the law is on our side. Why can one not return to one's own home even after you have passed away? What pompous powers have the "governing committee" granted themselves that the government does not even dare to do--ie regulate and interfere with one's right to worship the deceased or follow one's religious or customary beliefs? "Don't care too much about they said. You just go ahead with you plans, and if there's anything, just call us!" one policeman said as he proceeded to write down the number of a direct line. As long as any noise we create does not result in a constant nuisance, the building's "governing committee" or neighbours who should complain cannot do anything to stop us from practising a long-standing customary rite to pay respects to one's deceased. "And if they do complain, we'll just come and the most we'll do is issue a written notice. We won't do anything against your right to worship!"
Reassured, I went back home and spoke to the building manager. I was polite and spoke in Taiwanese to give that sense of familiarity and comradery. Initially he told me what he told my brother last week: that the building committee decided not to allow such private altars be placed in the building. His explanation was that people would complain if too many friends or relatives came to pay respects, as it would disturb the peace. I smiled and turned the comment he made back at him. "Isn't it strange that when someone is still alive it would be ok to invite a bunch of people over, and yet to have people when someone is no longer living would be a problem?" He had nothing to respond to that, and proceeded to call one of the members of this "governing committee".
A lady came down, and I explained what we wanted to do. "We just want to take mum home after she passes. All we want is to erect a little altar to direct her spirit home." That really is all we want. No fanfare, no grand ceremony, we do not even plan to take the body home (as some do do...) and keep it at home until the day of the funeral. We won't be in anyone's way.
Bizarrely, the lady relented and said it would be not a problem-- which was not what I was expecting after what was said to my brother last week. I had rehearsed all I had learned from the call to the city government and from what I learned at the police station. I was ready to cite constitutional rights to privacy and how certain regulations can be voided if they contradict long standing customs and rites. But it was not necessary. The battle was won even before it began.
Delighted, I told brother the great news. News that saves us a lot of worry and also a lot of time and money needed to look for an alternative place for mum's altar when she passes away...
18 June 2012
Incontinence
"You know about mum's incontinence?" brother asked. What a way to start a conversation in the morning...
"Yes, I know."
"You know she can't differentiate between urinating and defecating? I don't want to scare you, but I've spoken to a number of people, and it's a sign at the end that the bodily functions are failing..."
I know. I know. I've seen how mum has to wear diapers and has to have her diapers changed every hour or so. The carer said there's often poo and pee at the same time, even though
Mum doesn't eat much. Even the nurse is puzzled where the faeces is coming from... I know. I know. I know...
Mum is declining... Her life signs are fading. I know, and I do not flinch. Not yet.
"Yes, I know."
"You know she can't differentiate between urinating and defecating? I don't want to scare you, but I've spoken to a number of people, and it's a sign at the end that the bodily functions are failing..."
I know. I know. I've seen how mum has to wear diapers and has to have her diapers changed every hour or so. The carer said there's often poo and pee at the same time, even though
Mum doesn't eat much. Even the nurse is puzzled where the faeces is coming from... I know. I know. I know...
Mum is declining... Her life signs are fading. I know, and I do not flinch. Not yet.
Discomfort
"What's wrong? Tell me!"
"Stop bothering me!" mum shouted and contorted her face. She was in a lot of pain, but she would not say where or why. I can't help her if she does not say why... And it hurts that she's shouting back at me.
I held her hand, swallowed my hurt. I know she does not mean it. I know she does not want to get angry. But the physical pain can be so overwhelming, can swell the emotions with anger and frustration. That's why mum bursts out. She cannot control it. She cannot help it...
"Would you like some water? Chapstick for your dry lips?" I gave her a sip of warm water, just the way she likes it. She pointed to the perfume humidifier. "Relax a bit..." She meant turn it on, and let the scent of lavender fill the air. Let the relaxing scent fill the room.
My hurt dissipated. It is not her fault.
Mum is in pain, but she cannot help her anger...
"Stop bothering me!" mum shouted and contorted her face. She was in a lot of pain, but she would not say where or why. I can't help her if she does not say why... And it hurts that she's shouting back at me.
I held her hand, swallowed my hurt. I know she does not mean it. I know she does not want to get angry. But the physical pain can be so overwhelming, can swell the emotions with anger and frustration. That's why mum bursts out. She cannot control it. She cannot help it...
"Would you like some water? Chapstick for your dry lips?" I gave her a sip of warm water, just the way she likes it. She pointed to the perfume humidifier. "Relax a bit..." She meant turn it on, and let the scent of lavender fill the air. Let the relaxing scent fill the room.
My hurt dissipated. It is not her fault.
Mum is in pain, but she cannot help her anger...
Dream: New Zealand
Had such an intense and vivid dream. Was onboard a beautiful aircraft of Air New Zealand (for some reason... I've never been to that country. But now I suddenly have an urge to...) I was flying there, and half way through the flight I spoke to one of the flight attendants to upgrade me to premium economy. They put me in a cabin and the chair was very spacious and I could lie down.
Suddenly the plane banked and stalled. I looked out the window and could see trees and houses. We were landing, an emergency landing. There was no warning at all and we just landed in the middle of a street. The plane remained intact, and nobody died or was injured. Everyone got out unscathed and we wandered around a bit before the captain said it's ok to fly again...
The plane took off, but it suddenly transformed into something else, some kind of spacecraft... Suddenly my ex was next to me, and we were sitting very intimately together. The craft soared into space and just vanished...
I woke up, tried to figure out where I was. And all this time have this longing to go to New Zealand, and to go there with my ex...
Suddenly the plane banked and stalled. I looked out the window and could see trees and houses. We were landing, an emergency landing. There was no warning at all and we just landed in the middle of a street. The plane remained intact, and nobody died or was injured. Everyone got out unscathed and we wandered around a bit before the captain said it's ok to fly again...
The plane took off, but it suddenly transformed into something else, some kind of spacecraft... Suddenly my ex was next to me, and we were sitting very intimately together. The craft soared into space and just vanished...
I woke up, tried to figure out where I was. And all this time have this longing to go to New Zealand, and to go there with my ex...
Talk with sister-in-law
I hadn't gone home in over two days. And I haven't showered in just as long. Brother came to the hospital with his family for lunch, and we sat around mum's bed and ate lunchboxes while watching a travel programme about Canada. Later, brother volunteered to stay at the hospital and give me an opportunity to go home and rest.
I got home, exhausted, but still had to empty the fridge a bit and go out to buy some chicken drumsticks to boil soup for mum. The fridge had not been opened for a few days, and old vegetables were going rotten and smelly. I put the chicken and mushrooms in the rice cooker to brew, and was just about to lie down when I heard my nephew playing.
It was supposed to be his nap time, but he was busy playing with his mum's makeup box. I entered their room and sat down, and handed my nephew a wooden toy. A puzzle in the shape of a caterpillar's body. Perhaps a bit advanced for his age of nine months old, but still he's a clever kid, and might be able to figure things out soon. But by the way he took the pieces and began to put them in his mouth to grind his itching gums (he's teething...), he still has a long way to go!
I played with him a little, and all the while chatted with my sister-in-law. It's rare that we do that, and I wanted to know how brother is doing.
"He's grumpy a lot these days. Every time mum's not feeling well, he gets very moody..." she said. "it's understandable, and I try not to get in his way. But his mood is very bad these days..."
She said mum's condition has really affected him, but good thing is that she revealed my brother talks to her about everything. That's what I really wanted to know: whether he has an outlet and whether he talks to someone, because growing up he never was one to open up, at least not to us the family. I told him recently that he's lucky to have a wife, and hoped that he would talk with her. And I was relieved that he does, because we all need someone close and someone we can trust to talk to in the face of something as daunting and overwhelming as the process of losing a dear one...
"He really cares about mum, but he just doesn't say it. He may be strong and buff from the outside, but he's often afraid and has a lot of trouble feeling safe and secure..." My sister-in-law told me about brother's fears of mum returning home. Not that he doesn't want her to, but just he would feel so terribly responsible should something happen to her at home. He already feels bad that she's not getting better (he told me that himself... And I told him we've all done our best, and her condition is such she'll not get better...)
"he's really done a lot in the last month or so..." he really has. He managed to get large insurance payouts, help mum redraft and legalise her will, help mum be officially registered as a hospice patient with the option of home care, he's managed to find a suitable location for mum's remains to go to, one that even mum approves of. And he's done it all while being a part time dad and a husband. That's a lot!
The talk with my sister-in-law really helped me to understand better how brother feels and where he's coming from when he's moody and demanding. And it also helps me to be closer to him and see him in a different light. All of this will help us to grow closer together and to help ease things when we come to deal with and come to terms with mum's passing and arrangements that come afterward...
I got home, exhausted, but still had to empty the fridge a bit and go out to buy some chicken drumsticks to boil soup for mum. The fridge had not been opened for a few days, and old vegetables were going rotten and smelly. I put the chicken and mushrooms in the rice cooker to brew, and was just about to lie down when I heard my nephew playing.
It was supposed to be his nap time, but he was busy playing with his mum's makeup box. I entered their room and sat down, and handed my nephew a wooden toy. A puzzle in the shape of a caterpillar's body. Perhaps a bit advanced for his age of nine months old, but still he's a clever kid, and might be able to figure things out soon. But by the way he took the pieces and began to put them in his mouth to grind his itching gums (he's teething...), he still has a long way to go!
I played with him a little, and all the while chatted with my sister-in-law. It's rare that we do that, and I wanted to know how brother is doing.
"He's grumpy a lot these days. Every time mum's not feeling well, he gets very moody..." she said. "it's understandable, and I try not to get in his way. But his mood is very bad these days..."
She said mum's condition has really affected him, but good thing is that she revealed my brother talks to her about everything. That's what I really wanted to know: whether he has an outlet and whether he talks to someone, because growing up he never was one to open up, at least not to us the family. I told him recently that he's lucky to have a wife, and hoped that he would talk with her. And I was relieved that he does, because we all need someone close and someone we can trust to talk to in the face of something as daunting and overwhelming as the process of losing a dear one...
"He really cares about mum, but he just doesn't say it. He may be strong and buff from the outside, but he's often afraid and has a lot of trouble feeling safe and secure..." My sister-in-law told me about brother's fears of mum returning home. Not that he doesn't want her to, but just he would feel so terribly responsible should something happen to her at home. He already feels bad that she's not getting better (he told me that himself... And I told him we've all done our best, and her condition is such she'll not get better...)
"he's really done a lot in the last month or so..." he really has. He managed to get large insurance payouts, help mum redraft and legalise her will, help mum be officially registered as a hospice patient with the option of home care, he's managed to find a suitable location for mum's remains to go to, one that even mum approves of. And he's done it all while being a part time dad and a husband. That's a lot!
The talk with my sister-in-law really helped me to understand better how brother feels and where he's coming from when he's moody and demanding. And it also helps me to be closer to him and see him in a different light. All of this will help us to grow closer together and to help ease things when we come to deal with and come to terms with mum's passing and arrangements that come afterward...
Order
"She wants drunken chicken..." brother said over the phone.
"Drunken chicken?" I asked. I know the dish well. It's chicken soaked in aged wine to give it a cool and refreshing taste. "That's what she would like?"
"Yes, drunken chicken and some stir fried vegetables."
I did not ask further. It is not a time to ask questions. As the doctor said repeatedly, give her what she likes to eat, give her what she thinks of eating. Let her eat as little or as much as she would like.
I had a place in mind where I could get these two dishes. It's restaurant we have frequented since we were children. I ordered the dishes mum wanted, and two more dishes. A spicy dish of Sichuan origin, containing aping onions, pigs blood and intestines (definitely not kosher or for the faint of heart...). Mum, my brother and I love that dish. And I also ordered some steamed "spiral buns"-- a sweet pastry that is light and easily to chew and digest. And I just spend two hours ( or actually, the rice cooker...) brewing a pungent chicken soup filled with five different kinds of mushroom.
It'll be a feast tonight in Room 20!
"Drunken chicken?" I asked. I know the dish well. It's chicken soaked in aged wine to give it a cool and refreshing taste. "That's what she would like?"
"Yes, drunken chicken and some stir fried vegetables."I did not ask further. It is not a time to ask questions. As the doctor said repeatedly, give her what she likes to eat, give her what she thinks of eating. Let her eat as little or as much as she would like.
I had a place in mind where I could get these two dishes. It's restaurant we have frequented since we were children. I ordered the dishes mum wanted, and two more dishes. A spicy dish of Sichuan origin, containing aping onions, pigs blood and intestines (definitely not kosher or for the faint of heart...). Mum, my brother and I love that dish. And I also ordered some steamed "spiral buns"-- a sweet pastry that is light and easily to chew and digest. And I just spend two hours ( or actually, the rice cooker...) brewing a pungent chicken soup filled with five different kinds of mushroom.
It'll be a feast tonight in Room 20!
Diagnosis
"For two days she's well, and the third day [her health] decline[s]..." That was how the doctor described mum's condition. They tried to take some blood samples, but her blood vessels have shrunk to an extent that it's next to impossible. Only after poking in two areas did they manage to draw a few milliliters of blood. I watched and cringed as mum lay there with a face of agony...
The tone of Mum's face is especially dark today. And for the entire morning she writhed in bed in obvious discomfort. It's been four days since she last got out of bed. The last time her knee buckled when the carer and I tried to hold her up. That was cause for quite a scare, and it left mum gasping for air...
Two steps forward, three steps back. Mum is in decline. Every day she says things like: "It may not be long..." or "I'm just waiting..."
My nephew came and we all had lunch together. Mum had a small piece of chicken and a bite of rice and a mouthful of vegetables. That was her lunch. We watched a DVD about Canada, and we reminisced all the places we have been together. For that hour or so, she was lost in the memories of those travelling days gone by, she was focused and amassed by the mischievous grin of my little nephew who likes to wriggle like a worm and who likes to reach out and touch mum's arm...
I stroke her face, I stroke her hair, I touch her cheeks, I press my cheeks against the palms and feel the weak grasp of her hands... There are moments when I think to myself, when I see her gasp for air or close her eyes and grimace: "Is this it...? Is this the moment...? Is this how it ends...?"
But mum's life and fate have not run their course just yet. I keep on telling her "It doesn't matter how long... Don't think about it too much..." But I know deep down it matters, because she is in pain, she is not feeling well, she is suffering-- if not physical discomfort then she is suffering the humiliation of being mentally so wide awake as her body breaks down. The humiliation of being unable to walk, being unable to control her bladder or bowels, of having to wear diapers and being unable to change them herself and needing another to clean up after her...
Hang on there mum... We are here with you.
The tone of Mum's face is especially dark today. And for the entire morning she writhed in bed in obvious discomfort. It's been four days since she last got out of bed. The last time her knee buckled when the carer and I tried to hold her up. That was cause for quite a scare, and it left mum gasping for air...
Two steps forward, three steps back. Mum is in decline. Every day she says things like: "It may not be long..." or "I'm just waiting..."
My nephew came and we all had lunch together. Mum had a small piece of chicken and a bite of rice and a mouthful of vegetables. That was her lunch. We watched a DVD about Canada, and we reminisced all the places we have been together. For that hour or so, she was lost in the memories of those travelling days gone by, she was focused and amassed by the mischievous grin of my little nephew who likes to wriggle like a worm and who likes to reach out and touch mum's arm...
I stroke her face, I stroke her hair, I touch her cheeks, I press my cheeks against the palms and feel the weak grasp of her hands... There are moments when I think to myself, when I see her gasp for air or close her eyes and grimace: "Is this it...? Is this the moment...? Is this how it ends...?"But mum's life and fate have not run their course just yet. I keep on telling her "It doesn't matter how long... Don't think about it too much..." But I know deep down it matters, because she is in pain, she is not feeling well, she is suffering-- if not physical discomfort then she is suffering the humiliation of being mentally so wide awake as her body breaks down. The humiliation of being unable to walk, being unable to control her bladder or bowels, of having to wear diapers and being unable to change them herself and needing another to clean up after her...
Hang on there mum... We are here with you.
17 June 2012
Shopping for mum
"What are the shoes for?" the young lady asked.
"They're for... They're for..." I stuttered and struggled to find the words. The words were on the tip of my tongue but they did not dare to escape. Until: "For the deceased."
She did not looked shocked or surprised. Perhaps it's because the store is on a busy street next to two big hospitals. Perhaps she got this kind of request before. "So we have here this kind of shoes made of fabric."
She showed me ones that were for young girls. A bit too flashy and hip for the dress I chose for mum to wear.
Then she showed me another pair, which were more suitable. Black shoes made of fabric with a strap down the middle. They were decent looking. Only shame bit about them was the fact they were made in China...
"There's not much choice, not at this hour..." the lady said. "And it's taboo for the shoes to be worn by someone younger..." I wanted to say that I'm not in a hurry to look for the shoes, and that I was buying them in preparation for mum's passing. I wanted to say it might be very soon. But that conversation only played out in my head. All I did was nod and paid for the shoes.
Together with the pair of white gloves I bought at a fashion accessories store, I headed back to the hospital. The white gloves are another part of tradition, and i managed to some for ladies who want to protect them hands from sunburn while riding motorcycles. The fabric shoes are for mum to wear. They have to be fabric because they will incinerate better. Leather shoes might not completely incinerate, and I was told that you run the risk that part of the body is not completely cremated. That would be just horrible... Horrible...
I have what we need now. With the dress I chose and placed clandestinely in the cupboard in mum's room, we are now prepared for that moment. I took out the shoes again to inspect them and carefully put them back in their packaging and original box. Mum slept and snored a little with her mouth open.
The next time I open the box, mum will no longer be snoring...
"They're for... They're for..." I stuttered and struggled to find the words. The words were on the tip of my tongue but they did not dare to escape. Until: "For the deceased."
She did not looked shocked or surprised. Perhaps it's because the store is on a busy street next to two big hospitals. Perhaps she got this kind of request before. "So we have here this kind of shoes made of fabric."
She showed me ones that were for young girls. A bit too flashy and hip for the dress I chose for mum to wear.
Then she showed me another pair, which were more suitable. Black shoes made of fabric with a strap down the middle. They were decent looking. Only shame bit about them was the fact they were made in China...
"There's not much choice, not at this hour..." the lady said. "And it's taboo for the shoes to be worn by someone younger..." I wanted to say that I'm not in a hurry to look for the shoes, and that I was buying them in preparation for mum's passing. I wanted to say it might be very soon. But that conversation only played out in my head. All I did was nod and paid for the shoes.
Together with the pair of white gloves I bought at a fashion accessories store, I headed back to the hospital. The white gloves are another part of tradition, and i managed to some for ladies who want to protect them hands from sunburn while riding motorcycles. The fabric shoes are for mum to wear. They have to be fabric because they will incinerate better. Leather shoes might not completely incinerate, and I was told that you run the risk that part of the body is not completely cremated. That would be just horrible... Horrible...
I have what we need now. With the dress I chose and placed clandestinely in the cupboard in mum's room, we are now prepared for that moment. I took out the shoes again to inspect them and carefully put them back in their packaging and original box. Mum slept and snored a little with her mouth open.
The next time I open the box, mum will no longer be snoring...
Deterioration
Mum heaved from a shortness of breath, and her body trembled terribly. She could hardly speak from the trembling. I watched in horror and in pain as the next couple of hours of drama unfolded...
Late afternoon, around three or so, mum suddenly complained that the room was getting very cold, even though the temperature was set at twenty-five Celsius, and outside it was one of those hot and humid pre-typhoon days when all the clouds have been more or less sucked away. We put on two blankets, but still mum was cold. My plan to take her out for a little walk in a wheelchair, which would have been her second outing since my return five days ago, had to be cancelled. She was in no state to get up.
For a good while, she remained cold and ran a low fever. Brother and I sat by her side, and I stroked her hand and arms continuously to try to warm her up. She was short of breath, and gagging at the same time. She looked so scared, so very scared. I too was scared... "What if today is that day...?"
My mind kept on having this uneasy feeling that something was happening, and for the most part of the afternoon (and even now...) I felt such a terrible headache and dizziness.
The nurse came in frequently to check up on her and monitor her vitals. Even the nurse was lost as to why mum was having a strange episode of trembling cold and shortness of breath, even with the oxygen tube attached to her nostrils. She had no appetite whatsoever, and only drank half a cup of Ensure supplements and half a cup of blended juice. That was it for the day...
I don't know why but I have such a terrible feeling... Terrible feeling. It was not quelled when in the evening mum said at one point, so weakly: "It may not been long..."
For much of the day, since the start of the breathlessness and trembling spells, mum lay there in great discomfort. I can see it on her face, I can see it in her eyes... There is such fear, such fear for the unknown...
And I too am plunged into this dark spiral of despair and helplessness, and struggling hard to find my footing and be strong...
16 June 2012
Mum's condition
"How is she?" i asked as two aunties left and headed to the elevator down. They came to spend a few hours with mum after choosing clothes for mum with me. Clothes for when mum...
I stayed home to rest for a little while, and also to cook some soup for mum.
"The condition is not good. Just let things be..." one auntie said. She used to be a nurse, and she has been so caring over the past few years, calling every day almost to check up on mum, and visiting her every week. Sometime ago, this auntie said that according to taiwanese beliefs, many critical ill people do not live for long after or before a big festival. The upcoming one, Dragon Boat Festival, is in less than a week.
"Last week she had more energy and was more talkative. Today she looks very unwell..." The aunties tried to give her some traditional noodles to eat, thinking the noodles would bring back nostalgic memories and tastes of the past. Mum are two bites, and threw up four mouthfuls... When I came in, she looked in worse state than she was just four hours earlier when I left her to go home and meet with the two aunties.
"She does not seem able to control her bowel movements. She doesn't seem to know whether she urinated or pooed..." I heard that, and felt such a deep, deep sense of sadness. My own mother, now unable to control her own bowel movements. Her dignity and worth is being further eroded. How she must feel...
"Thank you... Thank you for coming and spending a valuable weekend day off with her..." I said and gently bowed.
"Please don't say that. You and your brother have done a lot, and you should not feel so sad. Just let nature take its course," one auntie said. They praised mum, said how lucky and fortunate she is to have us as children, and to be surrounded by people who are there to help and support her in different ways. "It is because of her kindness, and all the merit she has accumulated..."
Humbly I bowed again and bid the aunties farewell. "Thank you..."
I returned to the room, and mum was almost asleep. The carer is patting her back to make mum comfortable. Mum opened her eyes, her tired eyes which had dark circles around them. She blinked quickly, something I've noticed she does more often these days. "Ask them to go already. It's too late..."
She meant ask the aunties to leave, because they have spent an afternoon with her. But the aunties left around five minutes ago. That did not register with mum.
Perhaps mum is too tired that she is not fully aware of what is happening around her. Brother told me that she has become like that since last week, and today was the first time I noticed this "lag" in her response. The doctor said deficiency in ions and nutrients may cause sensory neurones to slow down the passage of messages to the brain and slow down memory. Whatever it is, it is painful to see.
I smiled at mum, and held her hand to reassure her. "They've already left. Don't worry, you rest now... Take a good rest. I'm right here next to you..."
I am. And I will be till the end.
I stayed home to rest for a little while, and also to cook some soup for mum.
"The condition is not good. Just let things be..." one auntie said. She used to be a nurse, and she has been so caring over the past few years, calling every day almost to check up on mum, and visiting her every week. Sometime ago, this auntie said that according to taiwanese beliefs, many critical ill people do not live for long after or before a big festival. The upcoming one, Dragon Boat Festival, is in less than a week.
"Last week she had more energy and was more talkative. Today she looks very unwell..." The aunties tried to give her some traditional noodles to eat, thinking the noodles would bring back nostalgic memories and tastes of the past. Mum are two bites, and threw up four mouthfuls... When I came in, she looked in worse state than she was just four hours earlier when I left her to go home and meet with the two aunties.
"She does not seem able to control her bowel movements. She doesn't seem to know whether she urinated or pooed..." I heard that, and felt such a deep, deep sense of sadness. My own mother, now unable to control her own bowel movements. Her dignity and worth is being further eroded. How she must feel...
"Thank you... Thank you for coming and spending a valuable weekend day off with her..." I said and gently bowed.
"Please don't say that. You and your brother have done a lot, and you should not feel so sad. Just let nature take its course," one auntie said. They praised mum, said how lucky and fortunate she is to have us as children, and to be surrounded by people who are there to help and support her in different ways. "It is because of her kindness, and all the merit she has accumulated..."
Humbly I bowed again and bid the aunties farewell. "Thank you..."
I returned to the room, and mum was almost asleep. The carer is patting her back to make mum comfortable. Mum opened her eyes, her tired eyes which had dark circles around them. She blinked quickly, something I've noticed she does more often these days. "Ask them to go already. It's too late..."
She meant ask the aunties to leave, because they have spent an afternoon with her. But the aunties left around five minutes ago. That did not register with mum.
Perhaps mum is too tired that she is not fully aware of what is happening around her. Brother told me that she has become like that since last week, and today was the first time I noticed this "lag" in her response. The doctor said deficiency in ions and nutrients may cause sensory neurones to slow down the passage of messages to the brain and slow down memory. Whatever it is, it is painful to see.
I smiled at mum, and held her hand to reassure her. "They've already left. Don't worry, you rest now... Take a good rest. I'm right here next to you..."
I am. And I will be till the end.
Signs
Mum was especially lethargic tonight. It was worrying. She was slow to respond to questions, and had no appetite. She looked very pale and so very tired. I was getting anxious. Perhaps prematurely so, but I did not know what signs to look for. This is all new for me.
The nurse came in to check up on mum, mainly to check if the IV drips are functioning as planned. That is really what they do here at the hospice ward. Check on the vital signs, make sure that the vitals do not deteriorate, and if need be boost the patient's nutrient intake through shots and drips.
Normally, she would joke a bit and try to make mum laugh. Once she came in at the same time that the carer was hugging mum and helping mum to stand. "Doing the waltz, I see!" That got many smiles. But tonight, she was more subdued, and quietly left the room when she finished checking up on mum.
I followed the nurse out of the room. I told her my concerns, and asked her what "signs" to look for. She did not immediately understand what I meant, for I was being vague and skirting around the word dying. Eventually she understood.
"Mostly it's in the breath. The breathing slows, and so does the pulse. Sometimes the limbs will turn purplish, a sign that the circulation is getting slower and poorer. And there will be less expulsion of urine," she said. I listened attentively, and made mental notes of these signs to look for. Mum has not shown any of these, but her breathing is laboured and she often has to rely on a tube to help her get more oxygen. Her toes have turned a little purple, and yesterday the entire underside of her feet were dark in colour. But that could be more related to poor circulation...
"Some patients experience hallucinations and they see things. If it's something not too frightening, go along with the hallucination and try to imagine seeing the same thing. If it's something frightening, then reassure the patient where they are and that you will not leave them..." She was very calm as she described the signs of death. She must have seen and experienced a lot of it working at the hospice ward. She was probably there when the latest patience 'checked-out'.
She changed the topic, and asked me what mum liked to do before. "Travel," I said, and described how those picture she saw on the wall are from the trips we have taken together and of places we have been to together. I briefly told her how the last couple of years have been, and that ever since she got cancer, I have been determined to enrich her life and fill it with beautiful, beautiful memories. Did I succeed? "It has been tough, going in and out of hospital so often. But as soon as she stopped treatment, I would take her somewhere. Life has been exciting and colourful, and I think she treasures those memories". I told the nurse about our reviews of pictures. Yesterday, the same nurse walked in on us watching a video on the Canadian Rockies, and she saw how excited mum was to review the lakes and towns she has been to.
The nurse asked what mum liked to do with friends, and I answered that she liked to go shop and sit in a cafe and just chat the afternoon away on weekends. "You know, you could organise a little get together. She may not be able to go out now, but you can recreate that atmosphere and those feelings of sitting around table chatting with friends and loved ones. It's like reliving the trips you made together, but this time it's recreating the feelings and smell of a cafe. It will make her feel familiarity and ease inside. It will be god to her..."
We stood in the corridor for a while, chatting. She gave me a lot of tips on the final stage of life, and how to face it. We talked about Buddhism, and I found out she too is into meditation and understands the Thai tradition that I am practicising. The nurse tried hard to think with me what things we could still do and arrange with mum. This was the exactly the kind of support I need. The kind that can help me take away much of the pain and hurt and transform it into creative endeavours that will make mum's remaining time in the world worthwhile and meaningful, memorable and so very valuable.
Plans are being hatched, and all the while mum was resting in the room behind us...
The nurse came in to check up on mum, mainly to check if the IV drips are functioning as planned. That is really what they do here at the hospice ward. Check on the vital signs, make sure that the vitals do not deteriorate, and if need be boost the patient's nutrient intake through shots and drips.
Normally, she would joke a bit and try to make mum laugh. Once she came in at the same time that the carer was hugging mum and helping mum to stand. "Doing the waltz, I see!" That got many smiles. But tonight, she was more subdued, and quietly left the room when she finished checking up on mum.
I followed the nurse out of the room. I told her my concerns, and asked her what "signs" to look for. She did not immediately understand what I meant, for I was being vague and skirting around the word dying. Eventually she understood.
"Mostly it's in the breath. The breathing slows, and so does the pulse. Sometimes the limbs will turn purplish, a sign that the circulation is getting slower and poorer. And there will be less expulsion of urine," she said. I listened attentively, and made mental notes of these signs to look for. Mum has not shown any of these, but her breathing is laboured and she often has to rely on a tube to help her get more oxygen. Her toes have turned a little purple, and yesterday the entire underside of her feet were dark in colour. But that could be more related to poor circulation...
"Some patients experience hallucinations and they see things. If it's something not too frightening, go along with the hallucination and try to imagine seeing the same thing. If it's something frightening, then reassure the patient where they are and that you will not leave them..." She was very calm as she described the signs of death. She must have seen and experienced a lot of it working at the hospice ward. She was probably there when the latest patience 'checked-out'.
She changed the topic, and asked me what mum liked to do before. "Travel," I said, and described how those picture she saw on the wall are from the trips we have taken together and of places we have been to together. I briefly told her how the last couple of years have been, and that ever since she got cancer, I have been determined to enrich her life and fill it with beautiful, beautiful memories. Did I succeed? "It has been tough, going in and out of hospital so often. But as soon as she stopped treatment, I would take her somewhere. Life has been exciting and colourful, and I think she treasures those memories". I told the nurse about our reviews of pictures. Yesterday, the same nurse walked in on us watching a video on the Canadian Rockies, and she saw how excited mum was to review the lakes and towns she has been to.
The nurse asked what mum liked to do with friends, and I answered that she liked to go shop and sit in a cafe and just chat the afternoon away on weekends. "You know, you could organise a little get together. She may not be able to go out now, but you can recreate that atmosphere and those feelings of sitting around table chatting with friends and loved ones. It's like reliving the trips you made together, but this time it's recreating the feelings and smell of a cafe. It will make her feel familiarity and ease inside. It will be god to her..."
We stood in the corridor for a while, chatting. She gave me a lot of tips on the final stage of life, and how to face it. We talked about Buddhism, and I found out she too is into meditation and understands the Thai tradition that I am practicising. The nurse tried hard to think with me what things we could still do and arrange with mum. This was the exactly the kind of support I need. The kind that can help me take away much of the pain and hurt and transform it into creative endeavours that will make mum's remaining time in the world worthwhile and meaningful, memorable and so very valuable.
Plans are being hatched, and all the while mum was resting in the room behind us...
Checking out
I went out to the corridor, and saw a crowd of people gathered around a room toward the end of a corridor. I suspected what was happening. I saw a lady whom I saw earlier during the day weeping and being consoled by a Buddhist nun. All I heard was the lady saying: "He has suffered so much..."
Two men wearing suits walked solemnly down the corridor toward the gathered crowd. They were wheeling a simple bed next to them. Their motion seemed to be in sync, in slow motion and ever so silent.
I came out to the corridor a few moments later. The crowd had left, and they were all gathered by the elevator ready to make the 21 storeys down. I walked quietly to where the crowd gathered. There was but an empty bed, and the room was deserted.
The man had indeed checked out, and the bed was made for the next patient to check in.
Two men wearing suits walked solemnly down the corridor toward the gathered crowd. They were wheeling a simple bed next to them. Their motion seemed to be in sync, in slow motion and ever so silent. I came out to the corridor a few moments later. The crowd had left, and they were all gathered by the elevator ready to make the 21 storeys down. I walked quietly to where the crowd gathered. There was but an empty bed, and the room was deserted.
The man had indeed checked out, and the bed was made for the next patient to check in.
Dreams
Another night full of dreams. Dreams of my ex, dreams which are so unsettling and so distracting...
I think of him, perhaps too much. I miss him... does he me? What is he doing half way around the world? I do not know. Did he break things off with his boyfriend as he promised to, as he told a mutual friend he would? Can I write to him, call him, confide in him and not feel like I am intruding in something and not think perhaps he is with another person?
He writes to me, he tells me how much he is thinking of me, praying for me and my mum. But the way we left things is so uncertain. He seemed to tell me to hold on, to keep on hanging there and wait for him to resolve things. But there is no assurance that he is being true to his word that he will deal with things and remove obstacles to us getting back together.
What saddens me most is that he has not called once since we said goodbye. He knows, or can at least very well imagine, how difficult this trip is for me. Other friends have at least called as I was about to leave the country. My ex, someone with whom I've shared so much with, someone I've never had any inhibition in opening up to over the last few years, did not even do that (to be fair, he did write a few emails...). How much does he really care? How could he say he cares and then not even bother to call since we said goodbye in such a terrible manner? How could he give me feelings of hope and tell me he loves me and would like to be with me, and yet just turn so cold after I leave the country?
I should not be left lingering like this... Don't I deserve some clarity or at least some closure? I really don't like being left like this. It is so distracting to be left to wonder what is (if anything) between us still, and to constantly have to hesitate and wonder whether I can turn to him and seek support from him at this critical time of need...
I think of him, perhaps too much. I miss him... does he me? What is he doing half way around the world? I do not know. Did he break things off with his boyfriend as he promised to, as he told a mutual friend he would? Can I write to him, call him, confide in him and not feel like I am intruding in something and not think perhaps he is with another person?
He writes to me, he tells me how much he is thinking of me, praying for me and my mum. But the way we left things is so uncertain. He seemed to tell me to hold on, to keep on hanging there and wait for him to resolve things. But there is no assurance that he is being true to his word that he will deal with things and remove obstacles to us getting back together.
What saddens me most is that he has not called once since we said goodbye. He knows, or can at least very well imagine, how difficult this trip is for me. Other friends have at least called as I was about to leave the country. My ex, someone with whom I've shared so much with, someone I've never had any inhibition in opening up to over the last few years, did not even do that (to be fair, he did write a few emails...). How much does he really care? How could he say he cares and then not even bother to call since we said goodbye in such a terrible manner? How could he give me feelings of hope and tell me he loves me and would like to be with me, and yet just turn so cold after I leave the country?
I should not be left lingering like this... Don't I deserve some clarity or at least some closure? I really don't like being left like this. It is so distracting to be left to wonder what is (if anything) between us still, and to constantly have to hesitate and wonder whether I can turn to him and seek support from him at this critical time of need...
Clothes
160612.1517
I almost cried. It was harder than I thought, and made even harder due to the fatigue I was feeling from the jetlag.
It was so easy the other day to ask mum about what dresses she likes and what she'd like to wear. But rummaging through her wardrobe hit me hard, even though there were two aunties next to me and helping me choose. I knew best what mum likes and what looks good on her. And I needed to choose four outfits for her. One would be bagged and I would have to take with me to the hospital clandestinely. It will only be opened after she passes...
I took out that dress, I knew which one exactly. She wore it first in the summer of 2003, almost a decade ago to attend brother's graduation in London. A black dress with beautiful green embroidery around the waist, to which she liked to add a colourful cape to make brighten the entire attire. She wore it last last year to attend the wedding of her best friend's daughter.
She looks so young and elegant in that dress. The next time she wears it, she will have stopped breathing...
I stroked the dress, felt the soft fabric and tried to contain my emotions. It is hard, so very hard to know next time I see this very dress mum will have gone... How do you deal with that? How can I go about rummaging through her wardrobe without her knowledge, preparing for her demise? All she knows I came home to shower and rest...
But my mind is restless and so very heavy... As heavy as the unusual onslaught of downpour that has caused several deaths and flooding all over the country...
To the dress we added her wig, shoes, socks, and according to tradition we must also prepare a pair of white gloves. more sets of clothes have to be prepared, clothes which will be 'offered' to her by burning them after she passes. But that is for another ritual, which takes place only on the hundredth day of her passing...
How can we even think of that day when mum is still around?
Carefully I bagged the sets of clothes and placed them under mum's bed. One set, the one for mum to change into when that final day comes, I placed into my backpack and planned to sneak it into mum's room.
One more thing done in preparation for that day...
I almost cried. It was harder than I thought, and made even harder due to the fatigue I was feeling from the jetlag.
It was so easy the other day to ask mum about what dresses she likes and what she'd like to wear. But rummaging through her wardrobe hit me hard, even though there were two aunties next to me and helping me choose. I knew best what mum likes and what looks good on her. And I needed to choose four outfits for her. One would be bagged and I would have to take with me to the hospital clandestinely. It will only be opened after she passes...
I took out that dress, I knew which one exactly. She wore it first in the summer of 2003, almost a decade ago to attend brother's graduation in London. A black dress with beautiful green embroidery around the waist, to which she liked to add a colourful cape to make brighten the entire attire. She wore it last last year to attend the wedding of her best friend's daughter.
She looks so young and elegant in that dress. The next time she wears it, she will have stopped breathing...
I stroked the dress, felt the soft fabric and tried to contain my emotions. It is hard, so very hard to know next time I see this very dress mum will have gone... How do you deal with that? How can I go about rummaging through her wardrobe without her knowledge, preparing for her demise? All she knows I came home to shower and rest...
But my mind is restless and so very heavy... As heavy as the unusual onslaught of downpour that has caused several deaths and flooding all over the country...
To the dress we added her wig, shoes, socks, and according to tradition we must also prepare a pair of white gloves. more sets of clothes have to be prepared, clothes which will be 'offered' to her by burning them after she passes. But that is for another ritual, which takes place only on the hundredth day of her passing...
How can we even think of that day when mum is still around?
Carefully I bagged the sets of clothes and placed them under mum's bed. One set, the one for mum to change into when that final day comes, I placed into my backpack and planned to sneak it into mum's room.
One more thing done in preparation for that day...
15 June 2012
Being brave
"You are so brave..." my cousin said. We stood in the lobby for almost half an hour just talking about mum. She has not seen mum for about two weeks, and my cousin visited today after work today, and also to have dinner with me. After she came out of the hospice ward, her eyes were red and moist.
"It's so hard not to get emotional. How do you do it?"
I don't know. I don't know how I look at mum everyday, how I touch her skin and stroke her arms and legs without crying. I don't know how I can look into the yellowishness of her eye whites and not quiver. I don't know how I can watch her heave for breathe without feeling pain or such resentment at what cancer has done to her. Instead, my mind seems to be filled with compassion, patience, and love... seemingly boundless love and the feeling that love (and a little foolishness and childishness) can overwhelm everything sad or painful.
My cousin hugged me, and told me about her dream the other day in which she saw a coffin and also ornaments for the deceased. She was shaken awake by the vividness of the images in her dream, and by the sight of herself howling from pain in the dream. It was so powerful that dream that she is still shaken from it all. I heard her describe it, and it sent shivers down my spine...
"What do you feel...?"
I'm not sure. I'm not sure where this calm comes from. I find myself being so calm and collected, being so stoic and perhaps even appearing unfeeling. "I know I will break sometime, but for the time being, I am able to just do things, be with her without being or becoming too sad..." I explained and compared my feelings now with feelings at the time of my dad's passing. I was so calm too, unexpectedly so. "I guess if you do everything and are kind to the person, there is no remorse or too much sadness..."
The body will decline, the body will fail and decay, but I believe the spirit will live on. And in a way, I am fortunate that mum's mind is so clear and she still remembers a lot of things from the past, and it has been beautiful viewing pictures of the places we have been together with her. I know one day she will not physically be there for me to hold or touch, but she will live on in my mind, in my heart... And I know she will be with me, watch over me, care for me wherever I may be... I told my cousin about how the month in Canada has been therapeutic and been like a pre-mourning period.
I told my cousin about going to see altars where we could place mum immediately after she passes. I told her about the frank discussion we had just yesterday about what clothes she would like to wear on the day of her funeral, and what she would like to "bring" with her. Mum replied very calmly and clearly when I gave her suggestions and even showed her pictures of the beautiful dresses she wore once. I seem to have this strange ability to describe it all as-a-matter-of-factly, which makes me so uncomfortable at times. Why is it that other people cry after seeing my mum, why is it that brother struggles to contain his tears, whereas I don't even shed a tear...?
"You have prepared well..." my cousin said.
Have I really? How can one really prepare for death? All I've done is take a bunch of pictures and memorabilia home with me on this trip, because I know it'll be the last trip. I did it too four years ago when I rushed home to be at dad's side. Because you just know. You just know...
"It's so hard not to get emotional. How do you do it?"
I don't know. I don't know how I look at mum everyday, how I touch her skin and stroke her arms and legs without crying. I don't know how I can look into the yellowishness of her eye whites and not quiver. I don't know how I can watch her heave for breathe without feeling pain or such resentment at what cancer has done to her. Instead, my mind seems to be filled with compassion, patience, and love... seemingly boundless love and the feeling that love (and a little foolishness and childishness) can overwhelm everything sad or painful.
My cousin hugged me, and told me about her dream the other day in which she saw a coffin and also ornaments for the deceased. She was shaken awake by the vividness of the images in her dream, and by the sight of herself howling from pain in the dream. It was so powerful that dream that she is still shaken from it all. I heard her describe it, and it sent shivers down my spine...
"What do you feel...?"
I'm not sure. I'm not sure where this calm comes from. I find myself being so calm and collected, being so stoic and perhaps even appearing unfeeling. "I know I will break sometime, but for the time being, I am able to just do things, be with her without being or becoming too sad..." I explained and compared my feelings now with feelings at the time of my dad's passing. I was so calm too, unexpectedly so. "I guess if you do everything and are kind to the person, there is no remorse or too much sadness..."
The body will decline, the body will fail and decay, but I believe the spirit will live on. And in a way, I am fortunate that mum's mind is so clear and she still remembers a lot of things from the past, and it has been beautiful viewing pictures of the places we have been together with her. I know one day she will not physically be there for me to hold or touch, but she will live on in my mind, in my heart... And I know she will be with me, watch over me, care for me wherever I may be... I told my cousin about how the month in Canada has been therapeutic and been like a pre-mourning period.
I told my cousin about going to see altars where we could place mum immediately after she passes. I told her about the frank discussion we had just yesterday about what clothes she would like to wear on the day of her funeral, and what she would like to "bring" with her. Mum replied very calmly and clearly when I gave her suggestions and even showed her pictures of the beautiful dresses she wore once. I seem to have this strange ability to describe it all as-a-matter-of-factly, which makes me so uncomfortable at times. Why is it that other people cry after seeing my mum, why is it that brother struggles to contain his tears, whereas I don't even shed a tear...?
"You have prepared well..." my cousin said.
Have I really? How can one really prepare for death? All I've done is take a bunch of pictures and memorabilia home with me on this trip, because I know it'll be the last trip. I did it too four years ago when I rushed home to be at dad's side. Because you just know. You just know...
Restless night
Had such a restless night full of dreams which woke up me several times. Dreams of my ex, dreams of mum... Everytime I open my eyes, I turn my head and can just about see her lie there on her bed. I wonder what she is thinking, how she is feeling, and whether she is in a lot of pain...
Just before sleep last night, I wrote an email to my ex. He's been writing to me the last three days, short but encouraging emails. The way we said goodbye made it very difficult to know how to contact him. He said he would "deal with things". He even told a mutual friend that things would change "in the next twelve hours" (from the moment he went off to see his boyfriend with the intention of breaking up...). I left the country, and he did not even call to say goodbye, and instead just sent me a short text message to wish me a safe journey.
So I'm left unsure what his status is now, and am very uncomfortable contacting him. Why? Because he could have just been pretending and putting up a show till I leave. As far as I know, he could tell me he wants to deal with things, but instead doesn't because I'd be gone anyways...
My unease in contacting him comes from the fact that he's told me before I am manipulative and even hinted at the fact I use my mother's situation to influence his feelings toward me. I wrote to him because I wanted to let him know the conversation mum and I had about him the other day, when i told her, in an attempt to reassure her, that my ex cares a lot about me, and that is a possibility of a future between us.
And I asked him in my email something I've been meaning to ask him, because I see it and dream about it: to be there when I bid a final farewell to mum...
I don't know why, but I only feel comfortable for him to be there when he is no longer attached to anyone. I would like him to be there, because I imagine I would need someone to hold and to be with me. I would need someone I can be comfortable with and not have any reservations confiding in. And I cannot do that with just any person... I can do that with him, but only really when he is free from obligations to another. Otherwise, I'd feel like I'm hogging someone else's man and feel the need to hold back. And I feel when that day comes, I cannot afford to hold back my emotions and feelings...
Is it selfish of me to want my ex to be there by my side on perhaps the most challenging day of my life in a long time to come? Is it selfish to only want him to be there if he is free from engagements of a previous relationship? Is it selfish to want him all to myself? I just feel I need that, I deserve that, and I need that more than ever now that I am about to lose mum...
Just before sleep last night, I wrote an email to my ex. He's been writing to me the last three days, short but encouraging emails. The way we said goodbye made it very difficult to know how to contact him. He said he would "deal with things". He even told a mutual friend that things would change "in the next twelve hours" (from the moment he went off to see his boyfriend with the intention of breaking up...). I left the country, and he did not even call to say goodbye, and instead just sent me a short text message to wish me a safe journey.
So I'm left unsure what his status is now, and am very uncomfortable contacting him. Why? Because he could have just been pretending and putting up a show till I leave. As far as I know, he could tell me he wants to deal with things, but instead doesn't because I'd be gone anyways...
My unease in contacting him comes from the fact that he's told me before I am manipulative and even hinted at the fact I use my mother's situation to influence his feelings toward me. I wrote to him because I wanted to let him know the conversation mum and I had about him the other day, when i told her, in an attempt to reassure her, that my ex cares a lot about me, and that is a possibility of a future between us.
And I asked him in my email something I've been meaning to ask him, because I see it and dream about it: to be there when I bid a final farewell to mum...
I don't know why, but I only feel comfortable for him to be there when he is no longer attached to anyone. I would like him to be there, because I imagine I would need someone to hold and to be with me. I would need someone I can be comfortable with and not have any reservations confiding in. And I cannot do that with just any person... I can do that with him, but only really when he is free from obligations to another. Otherwise, I'd feel like I'm hogging someone else's man and feel the need to hold back. And I feel when that day comes, I cannot afford to hold back my emotions and feelings...
Is it selfish of me to want my ex to be there by my side on perhaps the most challenging day of my life in a long time to come? Is it selfish to only want him to be there if he is free from engagements of a previous relationship? Is it selfish to want him all to myself? I just feel I need that, I deserve that, and I need that more than ever now that I am about to lose mum...
Pictures
140612.1624
I was unsure how mum would react to seeing pictures from the past. I was showing her professional pictures from my graduation, and one thing led to another, I began showing her photos from her trips...
Mum looked at them while chewing on a slice of whole grain bread and sipping her favourite hot almond tea drink. She smiled, and I smiled too seeing her smile. She asked now and then where the places were, and I filled her in.
The nurses came in, and later so did the doctor. I was sitting on mum's bed, and had one arm around her head. With one hand I stroked her hand. She smiled, and seemed to be enjoying the pictures.
"Where are all these places?" the nurse asked.
"Places she's been to! She's been to so many places!" I answered.
Appearing and disappearing on and off the screen were pictures of places far away, pictures from times long past. Ad yet, for those few seconds when we see the pictures, we are transported to a time and place that is beautiful and memorable, happy and associated with so many different sights and sounds that resurface again triggered by the captured moment in time.
I hope mum feels comforted and at ease when she reviews all these places, and reminds herself again and again that her life has been fully lived, and that her life is really beautiful.
I was unsure how mum would react to seeing pictures from the past. I was showing her professional pictures from my graduation, and one thing led to another, I began showing her photos from her trips...
Mum looked at them while chewing on a slice of whole grain bread and sipping her favourite hot almond tea drink. She smiled, and I smiled too seeing her smile. She asked now and then where the places were, and I filled her in.
The nurses came in, and later so did the doctor. I was sitting on mum's bed, and had one arm around her head. With one hand I stroked her hand. She smiled, and seemed to be enjoying the pictures.
"Where are all these places?" the nurse asked.
"Places she's been to! She's been to so many places!" I answered.
Appearing and disappearing on and off the screen were pictures of places far away, pictures from times long past. Ad yet, for those few seconds when we see the pictures, we are transported to a time and place that is beautiful and memorable, happy and associated with so many different sights and sounds that resurface again triggered by the captured moment in time.
I hope mum feels comforted and at ease when she reviews all these places, and reminds herself again and again that her life has been fully lived, and that her life is really beautiful.
Pictures on the wall
150612.1346
Almost as soon as I returned, I began decorating mum's hospice room. To personalise the place, to make it more like home and less like a hospice. I did similar things before when mum was staying at the normal ward on the lower floors of this very building.
In my mind, if you're going to be spending some time here, why not make it comfortable and familiar?
This time I went a bit further than before. I put up more pictures, first of all because there is more place to place them, as there is a noticeboard with lots of pins you can use. But most importantly, this stay may be the last stay, and I want mum to be surrounded by lovely scenes from places she's been to if that moment does come in this very room...
There are two pictures of her, one sitting next to a window on a train and smiling so beautifully and happily. Another one is of mum placing her hand on a tall tree with tree tumour in a show of solidarity and encouragement. I remember that moment well, for she said to me even a tree with tumour can grow tall and strong. That was a profound realisation and sign that she had come to terms with her illness. There is a picture of Lake Louise, with the reflection of the sky and the mountains on the tranquil lake surface. There is a picture of a fjord in Norway, a picture of the Matterhorn as seen from Zermatt-- a place we've visited three times together! There is a picture of the sunset in Evian, where we were "forced" to spend the night because I misread the date of our flight, and another one. And there is a picture of a sunrise, taken by me at the monastery I've been to for two ten day retreats. Plus, there are pictures of beautiful autumn foliage and tulips, as well as a picture of a golden Buddha, and one of my nephew sleeping and resting his little head on his hand...
From mum's bed, the wall with all these picture can be easily seen. The nurses and doctors who come in regularly sometimes stop to take a good look. Whereas on the first day there were only three or four pictures, by the time I went home again two days later, the will had become full! "It's so touching to see all those pictures!" one nurse remarked.
Another nurse commented on the large bear I had brought with me from home the one my ex gave me once and I in turn gave to mum around a year ago to watch over her while I am not around. In his arms is a giant red heart, one I got from the mattress store when I bought mum that new memory foam mattress days before Mother's Day. My little spacemonkey whom I carry around with me on "important missions" is also in the room, and around his next is a wooden plaque I/he acquired at the little temple on top of Tokyo Tower just days earlier. On the back of plaque I wrote in black ink: Eternal Happiness, which is what I wish mum, and also the name of the spacemonkey's current mission-- which is perhaps the most difficult mission of all...
These are just some of the cute, silly objects that I hoped would bring a smile to mum's face, and warm her heart. Mum sighs and says that the pictures and stuffed animals are a bit excessive. But I know that she is touched, especially when the nurses come and stop in front of the little personalised corner of the room and admire all these things I've put up. When mum has her eyes closed and sleeps, it is comforting to know that whenever she opens her eyes, the animals and pictures are there to greet her. As am I.
Almost as soon as I returned, I began decorating mum's hospice room. To personalise the place, to make it more like home and less like a hospice. I did similar things before when mum was staying at the normal ward on the lower floors of this very building.
In my mind, if you're going to be spending some time here, why not make it comfortable and familiar?
This time I went a bit further than before. I put up more pictures, first of all because there is more place to place them, as there is a noticeboard with lots of pins you can use. But most importantly, this stay may be the last stay, and I want mum to be surrounded by lovely scenes from places she's been to if that moment does come in this very room...
There are two pictures of her, one sitting next to a window on a train and smiling so beautifully and happily. Another one is of mum placing her hand on a tall tree with tree tumour in a show of solidarity and encouragement. I remember that moment well, for she said to me even a tree with tumour can grow tall and strong. That was a profound realisation and sign that she had come to terms with her illness. There is a picture of Lake Louise, with the reflection of the sky and the mountains on the tranquil lake surface. There is a picture of a fjord in Norway, a picture of the Matterhorn as seen from Zermatt-- a place we've visited three times together! There is a picture of the sunset in Evian, where we were "forced" to spend the night because I misread the date of our flight, and another one. And there is a picture of a sunrise, taken by me at the monastery I've been to for two ten day retreats. Plus, there are pictures of beautiful autumn foliage and tulips, as well as a picture of a golden Buddha, and one of my nephew sleeping and resting his little head on his hand...
From mum's bed, the wall with all these picture can be easily seen. The nurses and doctors who come in regularly sometimes stop to take a good look. Whereas on the first day there were only three or four pictures, by the time I went home again two days later, the will had become full! "It's so touching to see all those pictures!" one nurse remarked.
Another nurse commented on the large bear I had brought with me from home the one my ex gave me once and I in turn gave to mum around a year ago to watch over her while I am not around. In his arms is a giant red heart, one I got from the mattress store when I bought mum that new memory foam mattress days before Mother's Day. My little spacemonkey whom I carry around with me on "important missions" is also in the room, and around his next is a wooden plaque I/he acquired at the little temple on top of Tokyo Tower just days earlier. On the back of plaque I wrote in black ink: Eternal Happiness, which is what I wish mum, and also the name of the spacemonkey's current mission-- which is perhaps the most difficult mission of all...
These are just some of the cute, silly objects that I hoped would bring a smile to mum's face, and warm her heart. Mum sighs and says that the pictures and stuffed animals are a bit excessive. But I know that she is touched, especially when the nurses come and stop in front of the little personalised corner of the room and admire all these things I've put up. When mum has her eyes closed and sleeps, it is comforting to know that whenever she opens her eyes, the animals and pictures are there to greet her. As am I.
14 June 2012
Mattress
Mum got upset, and I know I shouldn't make her upset. But I tried and tried to push what I wanted to do, and to get her approval so she would be ok with it, lest I just go ahead and 'defy' her wishes. Eventually she relented and agreed, or at least stopped protesting.
Mum said she has been having trouble sleeping, and that her back is sore, even though the hospice staff changed her mattress to a very comfortable foam one. But it still is not enough.
I verified. "Is the mattress I bought you comfortable? Do you sleep better in it? Do you feel less aches and sores even after a day or two? She just nodded. To me that was the deciding factor. Ae said that it would be a shame to vein that mattress to the hospital to be used, for fear of bacteria and disease. But as I reasoned with her, it even more of a shame if a mattress of that price tag were to lie there unused.
So I rushed home, reassure her many times that it would be no trouble at all. I quickly got the mattress with brother's help and stuffed it inside a suitcase and brought it back to te hospice ward. Within ten minutes of returning, the carer and managed to make the bed. Mum lay down, and she had a content look on her face.
"See, no trouble at all! As long as you're comfortable!"
Mum's eyes were a little red and moist.
It's really the least I could do for her...
Mum said she has been having trouble sleeping, and that her back is sore, even though the hospice staff changed her mattress to a very comfortable foam one. But it still is not enough.
I verified. "Is the mattress I bought you comfortable? Do you sleep better in it? Do you feel less aches and sores even after a day or two? She just nodded. To me that was the deciding factor. Ae said that it would be a shame to vein that mattress to the hospital to be used, for fear of bacteria and disease. But as I reasoned with her, it even more of a shame if a mattress of that price tag were to lie there unused.
So I rushed home, reassure her many times that it would be no trouble at all. I quickly got the mattress with brother's help and stuffed it inside a suitcase and brought it back to te hospice ward. Within ten minutes of returning, the carer and managed to make the bed. Mum lay down, and she had a content look on her face.
"See, no trouble at all! As long as you're comfortable!"
Mum's eyes were a little red and moist.
It's really the least I could do for her...
Dream
There was so much shouting, back and forth, back and forth. Angry shouting between my ex and I. There was so much anger, and much of the argument centred on getting back together, on whether we have a chance still. He launched a lot of criticisms at me, accusing me of this and that in the past. It was so dramatic, so harsh, so painful to listen to, and I just wanted to walk away... I thought to myself how did we get to this? Didn't we used to be so good, so kind and gentle to one another...? Where did all this anger and harshness come from?
Suddenly the phone rang. It was mum.
She sounded so terribly weak, and she said she was not coming to visit as planned. She went home to Taipei.
I broke down crying and howling...
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