Sunday last I went to have lunch with a close friend of my mum's. Not seen this 'auntie' in I don't know how many years, but she was one of the people who 'took care' of me when I was living completely alone during the last years of high school (1998-2001).
We talked about many things, catching up mostly. Inevitably the conversation turned toward the stiuation at home. As I mentioned before, when my cousin and co came, they revealed that
my mum's health is looking bleak. Well, this 'auntie' confirmed that too. She said my mum has been through quite a lot in the past few years: the horrible mess of a marriage she and my dad have (including years of abandonment when my dad decided to leave without a reason), the stress and strain of work, sometimes even during weekends, the fact that none of her children are at her side. All these combined can do a lot to a person, and it has taken she's had to pay a heavy price in tolerating and swallowing the anger, pain, longings, worries and tensions. And that in term has cost her happiness and health dearly.
The auntie did not say what is wrong with my mum exactly, only that she's undergone major surgery and that my mum's life has changed a lot as a result. I more or less know what my mum has (cancer), but my brother (who also went to lunch) reacted to the news more than I expected. On the train journey home, we talked a lot.
"How could this be? She's still so young!" Illness and death are parts of life, facts of life we all must face and eventually experience.
"What do we do now?" There's really nothing we can do, except hope that mum will take care of herself and live happily without regrets or bitterness.
"But she's always been so healthy!" Even that, if you're mentally under stress all the time and are troubled by worries and anger, you can not be healthy physically. One affects the other. And by the way she (and my dad) have been living like tormented unhappily wedded souls in the past few decades, it was inevitable that they would both fall ill.
I can't remember the last time my brother and I talked so much. And he was actually even willing to listen. I saw another side of him which is rare to see, a human side, a side that is underneath that toughness and rudeness, under that armour of wanting to be boss all the time and that seemingly unfeeling face . Perhaps I saw something else that was not there. I think he even shed a tear (or two).
When I came home I called my mum. We were just talking, about this and that, what we've been doing recently. One thing led to another, and she eventually ended up talking about her health. I didn't expect it to be so soon, and always wanted her to tell me in her own time. Perhaps she thought it was time.
As I expected, it's cancer. Back in March, we were out walking and suddenly she felt a pain in her abdomen area. She never felt that way before, and she said she wanted to go home. Of course I felt sad that she had to cut short our outing together, since we don't get to share many moments together. But eventually I let her go. A few days later I came back to Europe.
A few weeks after that incident, she went to the hospital for a check up, and the doctors found that her colon had swelled to an abnormal size. They called her immediately, and pushed her into the operation room within 24hrs. The doctors were thinking that perhaps it's too late, since with these things when you actually start feeling something it usually means it's the end. To their relief, the swelling had not spread and was not as malign as initially thought. They removed 20cm of colon infected with cancerous cells. For a week she stayed in hospital and could not eat or drink anything. It was torture she said, and painful whenver and whichever way she moved. My dad, who usually just lives his own life and doesn't really seem to care, was there by her side throughout.
I did not know this until two days ago. But things are making sense slowly. I remember calling home once back in May, and dad said that mum went on a trip together with her colleagues. I had my suspicions then, since May is usually the busiest month for her. But I didn't ask more, and just accepted it. Who would have known that in that very week when I couldn't reach her, she was lying in hospital and going through so much pain.
Mum explained everything slowly, and I listened carefully, digesting every word. She said she didn't tell me, because she was afraid I'd worry and be upset. But somehow it's more upsetting not to have known. Sure, I couldn't have helped in any way, but at least I could send my wishes to her, at least I could think of her, encourage her and 'be with her' in my mind. That much I owe her, and more, as her child.
She said her colleagues were there to visit, even friends and relatives. I listened and in the back of my mind I asked myself why I wasn't there.
It's not so bad she says. Her situation is stable now, and the wounds have healed. She can basically just be 'normal' like before, just not be too stressed, and must be more careful what she eats. The doctors have suspicions that there are two other places that may be 'risk' areas, and they are now watching it closely. Every week she has to go to the hospital to do chemo-therapy. A small injection, just in case, to kill off any excessive cancer cells. Small enough to make her feel unwell for the rest of the day, but not large dose enough to make her hair fall out. How comforting. Thank goodness the medical system in Taiwan is modern, and the (national) health insurance can basically foot the all the costs.
I wish I could see her now. It's only been four months since I last saw her, but hearing all that she's told me, it sounds like it's been a long, long four months. How much pain she has had to undergo, the harsh realities she's had to face, the miseries, and pent-up emotions, with nobody to share with. I wish I could have been there...wish I could be there now.
