I was arguing with my brother, he was complaning about money issues again, particlary about how when mum visited , his bills inflated.
I became so furious. How can he be even talkokg about that now that mum is gone? How?!
I started crying. Just weeping from the thought, and from the realisation of how much I miss mum...
I woke up and found myself really crying, really missing mum...
I lay in bed and could not sleep.
An intense emotion overcame me a flood of imagery flowed through the darkness and before my eyes.
I could see my mum.
I could see my dad.
I could see them and felt like they were around me.
I missed them.
I missed missing them.
I cried.
For the past thirteen days, hundreds of students have been holed inside the Taiwanese parliament building, while thousands more have been sitting outside government offices in downtown Taipei. Their demand is simple: they are against "black box" politics, whereby the discussions leading up to the drafting and adoption of a trade pact that would impact millions of livelihoods, and potentially the very autonomy of the nation, is completely intransparent and lacks accountability. They are against a government that refuses to engage in dialogue, that refuses to respect the democratic process and the rule of law, and that seems completely oblivious to the demands of the common people. They want an article-by-article review of the law and a renegotiation of a trade pact that even to ardent free-trade economists baffles logic. Why would any country willingly open up its doors to another which, with its sheer market size and much lower costs of labour and prosicution, be able to swamp the economy with cheap and substandard products and services? Why would Taiwan, technically still at war with its goliath neighbour China, which has thousands of missiles pointed toward it and even vowed to invade and "liberate" the island, freely allow Chinese money to come into sectors vital to the country's security and sovereignty, like telecommunications and the media? The trade pact has (rightly) been labeled as a secret deal by a pro-Beijing government in power which aims to deliver the island nation to Beijing on a golden platter. It goes in line with China's long term ambition to turn Taiwan into another Hong Kong, but with economic and market measures and without the firing of a single bullet.
The actions of these tudents have been dubbed the "Sunflower Movement", named after the flower that seeks sunlight, inspired by the hope that transparency and acountability can shed light on the actions of the government. Contrary to how theyare portrayed in pro-government and-China media, they are not an unruly mob bent on destruction and turmoil. They are a group of well-organised and vocal youngsters who, like their counterparts in the streets of Cairo or Kiev, fear their country and their futures are disintegrating under the rule of autocracy and corruption. They enjoy the support of a wide swath of society, from fishermen to farmers to small- and medium-size business owners, who are the backbone of Taiwan's export-based economy, and who, spearheaded the country's "economic miracle". The students also enjoy the support of trade unions, lawyers, doctors, celebrities and members of the academic community. Their actions, though some may term illegal, is an expression of their freedom of their desperation and frustration, an expression of the hardearnee freedom to assemble and protest. The strongest hurdle is against a ruling party that owns a majority seats in parliament, and a the president (who The Economist has called a "bumbler") who enjoys a meagre 9% of popular support.
According to a poll, over two thirds of the population want an article by article review of the trade pact, if not a complete renegotiation of the terms so that Taiwan can enjoy a more level playing field when it comes to free trade and opening up its economy.
For so long, I cried because of my mum and dad. How I have missed them so, longed for them since they went away. I have lost them, I can no longer see them and can never be by their side...
Tonight, I shed tears for my country and for people.
It feels so painful to watch the people beaten, to see such brutality you would never ever imagine after thirty years of the thriving democratic process, peaceful protests and bloodless coups. Once a symbol and model of democracy in Asia, once a bastion against tyranny and censorship and champion of freedoms in a region of the world too used to despots and autocracies, Taiwan has become so tainted with the blood shed by government and police cracking on the skulls of young protesters...
Free press has been silenced with the deletion youtube videos uploaded by protesters showing policemen (with their insignia deliberately and illegally blacked out or removed...) coming down on unarmed civilians with brute force...
The government and certain pro-China MPs scoff at the students and brag how "easy" it was to remove them from the streets...
And certain pro-China and pro-government media outlets deliberately destort the news by (accounting to one account) deliberately knocking down trash cash so they can show footage of turmoil and destruction...
But there is hope still.... How can we not have hope?
Students and professors across the island call for strikes.
People are donating money to buy ads to place in influential international news media.
Doctors, lawyers, celebrities are coming out and denouncing the violence perpetrated by the government.
Municipal elections (God forbid they be banned or manipulated...) At the end of the year are a sure way for people to strip the ruling of its influence and clout in the five major metropolitan areas.
The people are angry!
The people are vigilant and wary.
The people are watching!
Before, I cried because of the mother, the father I have lost.
Tonight, I shed tears for the beloved country I am losing.
The crackdown....
It has begun.
The "president" came on tv yesterday and announced his resolve not to back down. He refused to talk to students or protesters. He insisted he has the nation's future and best interests at heart.
Today, hours ago, protesters stormed the Executive yuan (executive body). Armed police, for days they stood by, started to beat protesters. With batons and shields. There are bloody images of beaten students and protesters. People have been taken to hospital.
I
t's gruelsome. It's unbelievable.
It's a dark, dark day for Taiwan.
When was the last time police beat people? Why does it remind people of oppression in the 1980s, during the era of martial law?
Why does it conjur up what my aunt told me when, during her childhood, she saw people taken away... saw blood flow like river?
I am shaken by events unfolding in Taiwan. My homeland. My one last love.
To watch a loved one slowly drift away is so painful. To watch a loved one rot from within makes you so helpless.
God bless my nation... God protect the people from tyranny and oppression and brutality.
I stayed up till late, past three in the morning, mainly to work. But as I was working, I followed a plane till it landed safely after an almost 10 hour flight.
I do this always when members of my family are flying, something I starting doing as a child whenever my parents flew. We always flew long distances, almost always between Europe and Taiwan.
Today I followed the plane on satellite maps and online and even subscribed to the airline's web instant messaging system to keep me updated. They're not my parents, but parents of someone else, a friend. But still I care about their wellbeing. And in the aftermaths of a plane that has just "disappeared" (MH370) without a trace now for over 10 days, there is even more cause for concern.
They landed safely, i saw that. And now their wonderful tour around the world and long awaited vacation has begun.
As I laid down tonight, and grabbed the Winnie the Pooh bear that was once given to me for my birthday in the year my mum passed away, I don't know why I suddenly felt this pain and loneliness again.
I thought I was doing well.
I really did...
The pain never really goes away. The tears never really dry up. I am again reminded of those moments, those precious moments with mum, with dad.... Those moments of goodbye, moments of greeting at airports and stations...
No longer must I worry for their wellbeing or welfare. I worry and think of other people now, people who are not my parents, because I no longer have parents.
But all I have no, at four thirty in the morning on a work day, are moments in my memories, and this sense of longing and emptiness.
200214.1150 SJC time
The flight was relatively smooth, and went by quickly with doses of Japanese movies. It was a relatively uneventful flight, but I am again in awe of the 787 Dreamliner and it's beautiful raked wings and of how quiet it is.
Landed over three hours ago, and spend almost an hour waiting to go through immigration (the Chinese were questioned for prolonged periods of time, whereas the Japanese and this Taiwanese lady just in front of me were greeted with much more courtesy...), and another hour waiting for a nonexistent hotel shuttle. So tired by the time I got to my motel (no h-), and ravishing as breakfast was light and several hours ago.
Here I am at McDonald's, the only thing in sight and within walking distance, especially as I am too tired to head to downtown San Jose. At least at this moment.
Time to rest a bit after my meal.... I just hope I don't sleep all the way through, like last time I was in Los Angeles for an overnight transit, and miss the opportunity to explore San Jose.
200214.1528
Another goodbye, another trip home about to draw to an end. What a strange trip it has been, being so terribly sick and lying around most of the days I've been here. The illness has really affected me, for I am so tired and still suffering from terrible chest pains whenever I breathe...
My cousin insisited on coming with me to the airport, and together we rode the taxi there just as the sky was brightening. She's been very supportive these past few years, even before mum passed away. She was there throughout the caregiving process, she saw and knew how exhausted before and traumatised I was afterwards. She understands also, because she's a trained nurse. She understands also because she's been through similar misfortunes and hurdles and aches in relation to love and finding a mate, so she knows the feeling of loneliness and longing. Luckily, she seems to have found someone stable and committed now.
I was, to be honest, too tired to feel. Between running to meet and greet another cousin who works at the duty free to calling all the relatives and people I feel endebted to and always thank and bid farewell, I was sweating profusely once I got on board the plane. The night before, brother's loud, loud snoring woke me up every hour or so, meaning sleep was terribly disrupted. The alarm was set for 540, taxi pick up at 600. I quietly rechecked my belongings and bags and woke up my brother and sisterinlaw to say goodbye. Brother accompanied downstairs, and I told him to take care of his health and be well.
As much as I wanted to wake him and hug him in my arms, I let my nephew sleep. He's become such a beautiful and energetic kid. So full of life, laughter and joy, he's a darling to the heart, but also can be such a handful and very demanding. Yesterday, his mum left to go to the bookstore, his dad went to the movies, and I was left with mg nephew for over an hour at this kid's playground. We played ball and balloons a bit, then when he noticed there was an "auntie" there with her daughter, he wouldn't play with me anymore. When I tried to take his hand he'd tell me to go upstairs or run away to this auntie. Quiet a character. Back in the hotel room, I peeled loquat for him and he was all over me and hugged my legs. Abd we played cars (most of which he'd really wrecked and torn pieces.. he's got the destructive streak, and looks and tenpernent, of his father...). He refused yo slep and sat up in bed for a while while his mum slept already. He looked at me, in the other bed, and was so intrigued by me for a while before he lay down and curled his little body next to his mum. Dad did not come home until later...
like a zombie I boarded the plane. It was a Hellot Kitty plane , Happy Music Time, bit I was so tired I could hardly get excited, and slept almost as soon as the plane too off. I did wake up for the meal, a special order of the famous dumplings and chicken soup from 1 Michelin star restaurant Din Tai Fung. The service was impeccable, as always.
It was like a dream... Coming back home, falling ill and being bed bound, and then the final few days running around trying to meet people and buy things, and going to see my parents. How sad I was yesterday, and here I was flying away , soaring into the heavens and leaving behind the country with so many people and things I treasure and love. Land disappeared beneath thick clouds, but soaring advice the cloud cover were these snowcapped peaks and majestic mountains.
Farewell, my homeland...
Farewell...
200214.2324
Birthday eve
What an honour (in a wei...) to be asked for ID on the eve of my thirtieth birthday! Sat down at a Japanese restaurant I found on urbanspoon, and saw it was almost the end of happy hour, sake for only $2! I showed the waitress, a lovely middle aged Japanese lady, my ID and said I'm turning thirty tomorrow. She laughed and after dinner brought me a bowl of green tea ice cream with a cherry on top.
I wandered around streets of San Jose after dinner. It's a quaint small city, with a large Mexican and Japanese population. In the heart of silicon valley, it is naturally relatively new and extremely wealthy and has a very well connected public transport network.
I walked around, and began to feel a bit lonely. My coughing is still there, and I feel this bad pain in my head (which, as the evening progressed, got worse and made me dizzy...). A homeless man, probably not much older than me greeted me, and asked for a quarter. I apologised, and walked by slowly, noticing that he had a rugsack of his belongings and cage with what I believe is a cat inside. He wished me goodnight. I really wanted to turn around and get him some food, or offer him something, but I did not...
I walked past a cinema, and was interested seeing something light to cheer me up (ie distract me from my own thoughts...) Just so happens the Lego Movie was about to start soon, so I went in and made myself comfortable.
It's a surprisingly good and lighthearted movie, just what I needed and wanted, and made entirely out of Lego bricks. I grew up playing Legos, and my very first one was a set of a small fort in the ocean, which came with three men. It later expanded to a robin hood castle, and various other items that made my collection grow. There was a phase of several years I was obsessed with building tall things, like a tower. I would build something as high as possible, and have different levels with landing ports for my small collection of plastic planes and helicopters to land on. It was such an age of creativity and sense of achievement (except when the tower came tumbling down!). Something about the permanent smile on the Lego figurines has always been so endearing. I even had four figurines who I nomainated to be members of my family. They would ride around in my model trains or in the planes that I would try to build (this was another phase of my teenage years, building planes or at least machines that could fly...) The fact that these figurines were always together, always happy looking and always smiling was a contrast to reality of my family and what I wanted my family to be...
And the Lego movie emphasised this very aspect of creativity and joy to be had with existing blocks and collections. Anyone can be a "master builder", anyone can create new things and innovate and live out their fantasies. What a way to relive memories on the last day of my second decade on this world.
30th Birthday
210214.2332
It must have been the coffee I drank onboard the flight, which was served by the most delightful cabin crew I have ever encountered on United (she beats even those Business class crew I've occasionally encountered, so it says a lot. I've even written a commendation to identify her as a "model" for others in the airline). I could not sleep, even though I only managed some three hours (or less) the night before.
Take off was beautiful, especially into the sunrise. I looked out the window and was filled with a sense of hope and momentary elation. I looked out the window, at the Pacific that appeared and disappeared, at the dense conifers that became bare, arid hill tops, and that as the flight progressed northward became lofty snowcapped peaks of the American Rockies.
Landing was bumpy , as the Mile High City lived up to its reputation as a windy city at the foothills of the Rockies. The area around Denver is so vast, so spread out, so dry and somewhat barren. Tumbleweed really do tumble in the wind, and look like cute brownish cotton balls rolling on the ground. Later, as the shuttle took me to the hotel, I saw a row of around planes in a line all queuing to take off. Plane jam.
I lay down a bit to rest, but could not. Somehow I wanted to go visit the zoo, especially as it has great reviews and isn't too far from where I was staying. Only when I got there did I realise that this time last year, I visited a zoo too, on St Maarten.
It was a very pleasant two hours hanging around animals and watching them in their habitats. It was discerning seeing the might leopard walk so listlessly to and fro, the great big grizzly walk up and down its enclosure and the tiger pace the same steps over and over again. I imagine such confinement must have such negative and confining impact on these creatures that normally roam free on savannahs and in the jungle. But is conversation and research enough to justify putting a few animals in captivity? Or is a zoo just a freak show for hu-mans to stare and oogle at animals and point out how cute they are as a form of entrainment? I was extremely touched by the elegance of the giraffes, and the sweet way three sea lions were lying and sleeping next to one another.
The zoo was followed by an IMAX show on coral reefs and ocean life in the South Pacific. Though I dozed off for a bit, the colours and fascinating variety of life in the sea touched me so deeply and the music moved me tears. Mum would have enjoyed the show thoroughly. She loved Imax movies, even though she could not always understand them fully.
I had planned to take the bus and looked on Google maps before hand for the place to board and times to get downtown. But the thing about traveling is you never know what you'll come across. And just as I was getting my stuffed animal, a giraffe, I inadvertently noticed rental bike racks outside the store. I've never really used a cimmunityride-share system before, so I was excited to grab one and go. Totally unexpected, especially as the weather was still so cold, I was soon exploring Denver by bike. Another city in the world I can add to the list of places I've "conquered" by bike.
Denver truly is a great city, with lots of vast open spaces, and a relatively good transportation system. I found my way to a Thai restaurant that came recommended online, and ordered some tofu with ginger and a Tom yum soup, with a mint mojito to top it off. The food was actually very disappointing and bland, and service only so-so. I ate by myself and felt somewhat lonely surrounded by all these couples who were enjoying their Friday night out. Luckily, the effects of the alcohol drowned the creeping loneliness.
As I made my way back to the hotel, I stumbled upon one of Denver's most densely populated "black" neighborhood. Even before the civil war, Colorado was at the forefront of the civil rights movment and enacted a legislation to allow sufferage to all peoples, and a black congressman was even elected to office back in the 1800s. However, the influence of the kkk grew, and segregation was always a reality that worsened before it improved after the civil rights movement in the 1960s. It was an interesting piece of history that I never knew.
I felt so dizzy when I got back to the hotel, and cycling in the cold, despite wearing several layers of clothing and gloves, did not help my already weakened health. I felt it, really, the decrease in my lung capacity that I found myself gasping for air after only a little bit of peddling (or perhaps, as they call it the Mile High City also meant that the air is thinner and made breathing difficult, especially in the cold).
I needed to rest, but just before, like always when I'm staying at a hotel, I took a long hoy bath and watched a few episodes of Ally McBeal, one of my all time favourite tv series. First day of my thirtieth year spent alone, but it was quiet and I felt free.
Return to hospital
My colleague, the same one who told me to stay home and rest last week, urged me to go, but I have been very resistant. I just dread, dread hospitals.
But there comes a time when you must face what you dread most. I just didn't think that twice in two months, I'd have to return somewhere where I've had nightmares about, and occassionally still have dreams about even till this day, almost two years after mum died.
My colleague got out a sheet of paper with information about the walk in clinique associated with the Montreal Jewish Hospital. I'm no stranger to the hospital... Back in the day when I was volunteering i would i'd once a week. My bereavement group sessions took place there. I'd just not think I'd one day have to go there myself...
At my colleague's urging I decided to bit the pain and pride and call the hospital. I was told I could go straight away. I hung up the phone and inadvertently felt tears in my eyes. I was crying.
Why? Is it fear? Is it dread? Is it fear that something terrible will be discovered (and if so, isn't it better early then never)? Is it fear that I'd have to spend time at the hospital and not habe anyone come see me or take care of me if something is seriously wrong?
It's not fear of dying that made me cry. It's the fear of facing demons and seeing the sick. It's fear of seeing and feeling overwhelmed by compassion, feeling overwhelmed by the possible question of "Could I have done more?" For mum? For dad? For my friends Carmen and Tehwei?
The chest pain is really unbearable. I feel it when I move, I feel it when I just try to get up from lying down... I feel it just when I breathe a little bit harder, or talk a little bit louder. I felt it badly as I walked up the hill trying to get to the office. I was so out of breath, panting so heavily and aching badly...
I have to go in now. I have to no matter what.
Return to hospital
My colleague, the same one who told me to stay home and rest last week, urged me to go, but I have been very resistant. I just dread, dread hospitals.
But there comes a time when you must face what you dread most. I just didn't think that twice in two months, I'd have to return somewhere where I've had nightmares about, and occassionally still have dreams about even till this day, almost two years after mum died.
My colleague got out a sheet of paper with information about the walk in clinique associated with the Montreal Jewish Hospital. I'm no stranger to the hospital... Back in the day when I was volunteering i would i'd once a week. My bereavement group sessions took place there. I'd just not think I'd one day have to go there myself...
At my colleague's urging I decided to bit the pain and pride and call the hospital. I was told I could go straight away. I hung up the phone and inadvertently felt tears in my eyes. I was crying.
Why? Is it fear? Is it dread? Is it fear that something terrible will be discovered (and if so, isn't it better early then never)? Is it fear that I'd have to spend time at the hospital and not habe anyone come see me or take care of me if something is seriously wrong?
It's not fear of dying that made me cry. It's the fear of facing demons and seeing the sick. It's fear of seeing and feeling overwhelmed by compassion, feeling overwhelmed by the possible question of "Could I have done more?" For mum? For dad? For my friends Carmen and Tehwei?
The chest pain is really unbearable. I feel it when I move, I feel it when I just try to get up from lying down... I feel it just when I breathe a little bit harder, or talk a little bit louder. I felt it badly as I walked up the hill trying to get to the office. I was so out of breath, panting so heavily and aching badly...
I have to go in now. I have to no matter what.
6 Feb 2014
060214.2144
Day six of my illness. Woke up to more coughing, body aches and my head that continues to spin and an inability to stand steadily. Two days ago (was it two? Days and time seem to have so little meaning and are so blurred...), I called my older cousin to come get me and bring me to the emergency room. Actually my auntie called on my behalf. I could barely muster the energy to get up on my feet, let alone speak. Originally, my auntie wanted to take me to the hospital by motorcycle, but I I cannot.... I cannot hold on to the handle and was afraid I'd lose my balance and fall off. I was that weak...
The "cold" did not subside, not with the cocktail of over-the-counter pills that a pharmacist had prescribed me. To think of it, I had no clue what the pills were. He just asked me for my symptoms, and there and then put something together and asked me to pay nt$150 (approx $5). It was dodgy, but I thought little of it except to get better. But I did not get better.
For two days I languished. Sores, heavy coughing and difficulty breathing. The discomfort was unbearable, and every morning I'd wake up with much phlegm that was thick, toxic and dark. Then, the morning I decided I needed to check myself into the hospita, I really felt I was dying. I was drifting in and out of consciousness. I had trouble thinking straight. I tried to do simple sums in my head, but could not. I tried to answer simple questions, like what is my name and where I am, but could not. My body was sweating profusely, my clothes and the bedsheets were soaked with my sweat. I needed medical intervention, as much as I resisted and despised going to a hospital (especially after losing both my parents in one....)
I staggered downstairs and lay on the sofa. My friends were chatting away and preparing to leave. I was in a foul mood and could barely speak. I felt terrible unable to join them for the rest of their trip, for they were leaving the next day. But I knew if I were to accompany them and head to the north, no body would be able to take care of me if I got worse. I needed to stay in the south, in Chiayi where at least I have a network of relatives who can care for me and help me if something terrible happened.
I lay there and felt my head and body burning as I waited for my older cousin to come by with the car. My auntie gave me some broth with vegetables and clams to restore some energy, and I asked her to warm up some tomato juice. Luckily I did not throw up, because the night before I did, and all I had for dinner came pouring out. When around midnight I felt really hungry and tried to have a slice of cake, I took one bite and barely had the time to swallow when i felt the nauseating feeling of my stomach rising up to my throat. I had to spit the piece of cake I bit on and stop eating. I had not eaten since then.
I asked my auntie for some pen and paper. I scribbled a note to my friends. I felt apologetic that I could not be with them, and thanked them for coming all this way to visit me and be with me. At the end, I wrote down two things: "everything" and an arrow pointing to the name my nephew, after that "20yrs, 30yrs, 40yrs"; and the name of my cat and an arrow pointing to the name of my ex, and the word "love" after his name.
It may seem so silly and so ridiculous. But at moments, I really felt I was not going to make it. Those two simple lines lay out my will and final wishes. Everything i have to my nephew, whom I love and cherish, and who is perhaps the closest I will ever have to a future family (at this point...), to be given in three installments, so that there's no risk of evrything being wasted away when he gets too much all at once. And the cat, my loyal feline companion and love, to the greatest love I've ever known, regardless of what we are now to one another, regardless of the fact he has already moved on and made clear we are just friends now, and because of the fact (as I have been told by so many...) I am still so naive and so loyal and unable to move on... On the brink of death (or at least what you imagine or feel it to be...), all is forgotten, all can be forgiven.
We drove to the Chiayi Christian Hospital, ironically right opposite the Nice (that is the name....) Hotel where mum and I stayed one of the last times we were both down here. I have memories of me waiting for her at the train station for her to arrive, and how happy I was to see her step off the train and to know she arrived safely... I have memories of us having a lovely breskfast together in the lobby, a healthy buffet of congee and an assortment of traditional dishes and drinks and plentiful fruits... It felt like ages ago, but I still can remember the joy I felt when i could see mum eat healthily without vomiting and the joy I felt to see her wake up in the morning after a good night of comfortable and relaxing sleep...
It took less than ten minutes for me to register and be seen by someone at the emergency room. The efficiency of the medical system here never ceases to amaze me. A nurse first asked me of my symptoms and details of my travels and contacts with people, and then I was seen by a doctor who determined it most likely is (as I suspected and so dreaded...) the H1N1 influenza. A bed was assigned to me and I was told to keep my mask on (which I've been doing more or less since I started to cough four days earlier). They planned to give me some IV drips to replenish lost nutrients and fluids, and I need to undergo a rapid screening to see whether I indeed have the potentially deadly virus.
The nurse stuck a need into my left arm. I cringed, and was reminded of the many times I saw mum (and to a lesser extent, dad) having needles stuck in their arms. She prepared the needle for the drip and connected me to a flask containing clear liquid that hung on a hanger. The tube dyed red as my blood flowed back through it due to the sudden pressure changes. A good backflow is a a sign that the connection was done well, this much I knew from the dozens of times I've seen it done on mum and dozens of times I've had to monitor whether the IV drip is working properly.
I felt my arm go numb then prick with pins and needles. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes, and let the noise and hustle of the ER ward wash over me. Doctors and nurses shouting commands and orders, patients moaning, relatives and friends chattering and some asking questions in attempts to understand the full extent of the pain and suffering of their loved one. The hospital is a place filled with human suffering, blighted by the (for the most part...) human experience of illness and struggle against death. But it is also a place where human compassion and love can bloom and manifest. I watched the "white angels" scurry around the ward trying to keep abrest of each patient's vitals while constantly maintaining an air of cool and patience. I saw the dark, thin and twisted bodies of patients lie on several beds, all hoping for a cure or at least some kind relieve from the mental and physical pains this constantly aging and vulnerable sack of skin and bone is bringing them. At the hospital, regardless of wealth or origin, regardless of background or upbringing, we are all brought together by illness and death, by hope of betterment and prolonging our lives.
Is it not in brushes with illness and death that we experience higher states of understanding? It is bizarre, for I could barely think straight from the fever, profuse sweating and another cocktail of medication the nurse asked me to ingest. But in that haze and fuzziness of my mind, there seemed to be this clarity of thought, a clarity best summed by the words:
"It is only so much.
It is only so much.
Life is only so much..."
I had similar realisations as I watched my parents slowly lose their signs of life in my arms. In the end, nothing, not the anger you harbour, not the fears you dread, not the unknowns you fear matter. In the end, a clear conscience and the knowledge that you have done your best and lived your live to the fullest with no regrets matter.
I closed my eyes, felt the sweat soak my clothes, roll down my cheeks and dampen my hair. A dull, dull pain seemed to vibrate through my body and affect every body and muscle. I watched my breath, as short and laboured as it was, and tried to br aware of each moment. What else can you do when you are under tremendous physical and mental duress and pain but try to calm the mind and be one with the moment and remind yourself nothing will last foreever, even this pain and this moment?
The nurse came back with a thin white tube that had some sort of brush on the end. "I'm going to do a nasal examination to determine what type of influenza virus you have. It's going to hurt a bit but do not sneeze under any circumstance!"
She stuck it into one nostril first, and I felt this sharp discomfort, this prickling sensation in my nostril as she slid the tube in deeper and twisted it around inside. She then removed it and repeated the proceedure in the other nostril. All the while I closed my eyes and let her probe, swallowing hard and holding in the tears until she removed the tube. There was yellowish mucus on the brushy end of the long thin plastic tube. She said it would take around 40 minutes to an hour for the results to come out.
My cousin sat next to me. Even in great physical discomfort, I felt bad taking up her time, as she has two young children at home and it's right in the middle of her vacation. But she reassured me family don't think or say such things as "being a burden" or "causing trouble". She told me to just rest.
But rest I could not. I closed my eyes, but could feel the transparent tube feeding into my vein and body. I drifted in and out of consciousness, and my vision became blurred. I remember the nurse coming to check on me a few times, and seeing my cousin there next to me every time I opened my eyes. I remember hearing a middle aged man shout loudly at someone, presumably his wife, lying in the bed in front of me who was unsconscious and was unable to respond. I remember my cough causing tremendous pain that spread around my body.... I remember staring up at the ceiling and the white fluroscent lighting. I remember the last few words I wrote, and wondered if they were enough to express what I wanted if I were to no wake up again... I thought about my loved ones, about those dearest to my heart, and how I had kept news of the severity of my illness and the fact that I've been taken to Emergency quiet. Even to my own brother, who by then had boarded a plane and left on holiday, I did not tell, for I did not want him to cancel a trip that he and his wife have been looking forward to for a long time. And I told my cousin not to tell her mum (my aunt, dad's older sister), so as not to worry her. She's already undergoing some kind of medical treatment, and is herself very weak, so I didn't wish to alarm her. Besides. if I were to go, I want to go quietly...
I don't know how much time passed when I suddenly heard my name. My cousin told me the news. I have indeed contracted the a potentially deadly influenza virus, a strain of the H1N1 mutation that is simply called "Influenza A". Dozens have died from it already this flu season, and a strain of it killed thousands back in 2009. Yet another strain of it killed over two hundred million back in the early twentieth century. Commonly known as "swine flu" or " avian flu", H1N1, or so variation of it, is cobstsnlty evolving and adapting and spreading in the human population, even though it's origins may have come from swine and birds. Left untreated, the patient's immune system will continually weaken from the constant fever, causing delirium, extreme exhaustion, muscle pains and sores as well as severe coughing. Other symptoms may be diarrhea, vomiting and stomach upset (and strangely, possible constipation....). Children and the elderly are especially susceptible. But it appears people like me are not immune...
The nurse came by again and handed me several pills. One was a capsule, yellow and grey in colour, and there were three other round pills, one of which was bright pink, one of which white and one of which was orange. She gave me some water and told me to take the pills and assured me I will be alright and can be discharged the very same day, pending my fever subsiding. The pills and IV drips, and the fact that I was constantly breaking out in sweat, are supposed to help cool my body down.
More time passed in the din and bustle of the emergency ward. The nurse appeared again and handed me a pamphlet, and said I could go home. She told me to stay home and avoid public places, and that I need to keep a constant watch on my body temperature. Any more signs of fever and I need to return to the hospital for further treatment.
I thanked her and was relieved. I had I needed to be quarantined or something. Indeed, on board all flights into Taiwan, the government makes the airline play this health awareness video which warns all inbound travelers to report to the authorities should they fall ill within a week of arriving in Taiwan and have symptoms of fever, coughing and body aches. I have all the symptoms, and should have perhaps gone for a check up much much sooner instead of languishing in bed for almost three days... Better late than never, but the longer I didn't seek proper treatment, the more damage the virus was wreaking on my body.
Still weak and sweating profusely, even though the fever was gone, or at least under control.
Little did I know, the following few days would be a physically tormenting experience. Most of the time, I lay in bed, getting up only to eat and to drink and to use the washroom, drifting in and out of sleep, coughing profusely especially at night and feeling the discomfort of large quantities of phlegm stuck in my lungs and throat. Memories of mum and dad drifted in and out of my mind, and there would be moments when I would cry from the physical discomfort and the regrets of having fallen so ill and uncertain what would happen to me. In several dreams I had during this period I would see my parents. A part of me wanted to Join them, to leave this world, because frankly I don't see much meaning or purpose with my life. All the things and people I care about seem to have settled down and are fine without me. My family, my nephew, the ex... No more worries about their happiness or well-being, no more "missions" to fulfill, like unused to have, In which I would try yo bring a smile or add some colours into the life of someone I care about deeply. Besides, a rough will has been drafted, along with a letter of appreciation for all I am grateful for in life. What else is there left to say...?
The illness just compounded the pain and made me realise if I were to leave, I would leave now quietly and without much attachment or noise, without much fuss or fury. It's how I would want to go. I could go so quietly, and nobody would really miss me, nobody would really ache or hurt. And that is a good thing. Nothing is more painful than being too attached and the hurt of someone who is left behind. Nothing.
Go quietly, as quietly as I came into this world, without regrets or pain or concerns. Solitude and being alone too long can have such a terrible effect on a person's soul and mind. Solitude and being on the brink of life and death (or so it feels like...).
Over a week since my return to Montreal. No great big fanfare for my birthday (in fact, my brother only realised it was my birthday when I spoke to him this past weekend), no special welcome or anything in particular. It's back to life as usual, as if I've not been away at all.
It does feel like I've not been away. Besides the experience of being so ill, the three weeks went by so quickly and I don't remember doing much worth mentioning. The only thing I "took" from my trip is the ordeal of the illness. Memories of the fever and burrning sensations and pain all over still makes my skin crawl. Even to this day, I still feel pain in my chest and have trouble breathing when I lie down.
I know, I know, I know I should go see a doctor, but I just hate going to doctors and clinics. I just bear the waiting, and having my health checked. I'm in fact shaken just thinking about it. I've seen too many doctors, waited too long at hospitals, been too often to appointments and heard so much disappointing and heart breaking news I just avoid it all like the plague...
So I've been staying home most of the time, and I have very little desire to see or talk to people. Its turning out to be a very solitary start to my 30s. I've been watching a lot of series online, my suitcase is still unpacked, a big project I need to work on still un-started. I just feel so weak, and so tired, and the coughing and chest pains make me tired even more.
The cold is really unbearable, and it's already early March. I thought being away for a while I'd escape the full brunt of winter, but it seems this winter is here to stay. At least the days are getting longer, so there is more light and it's less depressing.
So theres not much to report really. Very solitary life, keeping a low profile, keeping to myself and staying out of harm's way...
The continuing cold has really affected my health and recovery. Just before I left home last week, I seemed to be doing better. But somehow, I feel so much weaker than before, especially after the good rest and food I during my retreat in the mountains.
But I guess the traveling, which lasted over 72hrs, as I was transiting in three different cities and staying overnight in two of them, really put a strain on my body.
I woke up today with such a sore chest and terrible coughing. I lay in bed more and fell asleep again until a friend called and dropped by to give me a belated birthday package. It was a surprise, from my ex, and my first reaction was "He really shouldn't have...". There's a reason why o stayed away from home on my birthday, why I deliberately planned my trip so I wouldn't be home: I just didn't want people to go through all the trouble of throwing some party or feeling obliged to get me gifts and spending money on me, because frankly I really have all that I ever need. I opened the box, and it was the CD to the musical Once (twice...) Which he and I went to watch together. A musical about finding love in the most unlikely of circumstances and pursuing one's dreams. Is it just me whose minds reads too much into things...? And there was a special Star Trek edition of the game of Catan I so love playing. Last year I got a board game too. But to this day, I've not found the people or opportunity to play it, and I wonder when I will ever be able to use my gift... Soon, I hope. I do miss having people I can trust and whose company I enjoy, as I have been alone far too long.
I dragged myself out the house and off to work. -20C, with wind chill. I had difficulty breathing, and was panting by the time I got up the hill that nornallly didn't seem such a challenge, but today felt like it was robbing me of my life. The rest of the day, I struggled to breathe and felt chest pains.
When I decided to call it a day, I stopped by a colleague and she said I looked so horrible. She advised me to stay home. "You really should rest more and stop going in the cold...." She said it oit of real concern, and it somewhat echoed my wish to rest more, because I felt so exhausted, so physically heavy and lethargic, even from not doing much.
I kind of feel bad, as Ive been away from the office for three weeks, and would feel guilty if I stayed away more. But I really cannot push myself and should not exert myself more than necessary, because I'm on my own here and nobody will come take care of me(like my aunt did...) if I were to fall terribly ill again.
And somehow, from the dizziness and chest pains, I do feel like I'm heading toward the way I felt two weeks ago when the illness began to wreck havoc on my body...
