Driving Ms Barbsie

I sat my dad down this evening to run through with him the things his doctor has told us to watch for. It was something I had to do, because my dad can be a stubborn man who tries to mask anything and everything over.

It is a topsy-turvy world I live in right now. Whilst he would like to live life as normal as he can, I know that he is now restraint by limits. But like I said before, stubborn man that he is, he has and will continue to try to test said limits.

As I told a cousin of mine the day I last saw Dad's doctor, perhaps I am trying too hard to protect him. Perhaps being 2 steps ahead of him is not doing either of us any good. After all, our last episode of this bubble-wrapping saw him blowing up on me over the phone.

One of our greatest unspoken issue is his ability to continue driving. And when the time comes when he is no longer deemed safe behind the wheels. I just read something from the Galway Hospice Foundation website - a piece by Prof. Joan Borst who recounted the day her father stopped driving.

"Driving was part of his identity and made him an independent man, a husband and a father; roles of worth. In comparison to the news of a brain tumour, maybe learning he would no longer drive seems insignificant, but I knew that deep down it was hugely significant for the both of us. The pain and grief I felt was a signal that my father's ability for care for me was ending."

My day would come when I have to be in the good professor's shoes. I hope and pray that when it comes, both Dad and I would be shielded from the pain and grief, and that we would do it with a large amount of acceptance so that it would be as dignified as in the days when he drove me around.

Until then, I think I shall let him drive when the opportunity arises. After all, it is not everyday that I get driven around like Ms Daisy.

Doing What Feels Right

I took the day off yesterday, got into my car at 5.30 am after an hour's sleep and drove off to the airport. I headed home to say goodbye to my uncle, my father's eldest brother.

It was a most difficult journey to make. The physical aspects of it - a whole day in a tiny hospital ICU visitor's room, endless walking to and fro to check on him. The emotional aspects of it - being surrounded by people who are holding on by a thread, their families standing around hearing the slowing bleep of the heart monitor. Yet, it was a journey that I had to make.

I had once written, that the only real legacy we leave behind when we leave this world, is our children. And I think in the last year or so, I have exemplified the legacy of my parents as well as my grandparents. For to them, nothing was and is more important than that of family and unity.

My dad is not able to travel, nor manage the emotional stress that comes with an very ill brother. My mother cannot leave his side because the doctor instructed her so. While it is painful to acknowledge that I have stepped up into my parents' shoes, I have to accept that this is the circle of life.

As I try to wear off the emotional baggage that comes with a trip and a situation that we're living in, both from my extended family and my own immediate family - I am at peace. Simply because I did and is doing what feels right.

And I know that right is right simply because it was ingrained in my bones and my whole being, just as the blood that feeds my veins is the same blood that runs through my uncle and my cousins.

All Things Past

It has been a tough morning for me today. A new year has meant nothing more than the changing of a table calendar. For the weight of yesterday still hangs heavy over my shoulder.

My dad's cancer is back. Some where in this thing he calls his body. And while things are inconclusive, he has decided that he will trust in God and not do anything anymore.

This knowledge brings with it some form of finality. For with his dicey situation, not knowing where it is at means that we cannot treat it. And to not treat it would eventually mean certain death.

Even in that certainty, we have to remain uncertain. For if we do not know where it is or how big it is, we do not know how long.

I have been thinking I steel myself against the very worst because I am a person who dares not hope. I have been concentrating my thoughts and struggle on the fact that I am the one born without the hope chest. My Pandora's box threw itself wide open way back then and even Hope got out before the lid could be shut on time.

And if I continue down this road, I would have missed the opportunity to profit from this experience, this bonus time with my dad. And it would be like my Camino all over again - to plan and trained and prepare but through all that, I missed out on the scenery, the mysteries and the joy of simply walking that pilgrimage.


There is a lesson to be learnt from all this. I know it deep down in my bones. But if I keep looking out for a sneak peek of the lesson plan, I will have missed the lesson itself.




If life, if the past is to mean anything - it is that the present is NOW, not tomorrow, not next year.

Run Forrest Run

In a few hours, 2012 will end and a new year will begin. Recalling the words of a close friend, "Nothing ever really ends, does it?" And so, try as I may to think that tomorrow will be different, simply because it is a new year, I know deep down inside that nothing will really have changed.

Bless me Father I have sinned,
I'm not sure where to begin.
I won't name names or where I've been,
But I've been there and back again.

It has been the most tiring and trying year of my entire existence. With barely a month in, I had to bury my grandmother. And in the midst of all that, realise that it was also time to step up - that the next generation was the 'now'. Ready or not, we had to take our turn at the reins. Ready or not, responsibility was thrust upon our shoulders.

No Hail Marys will save me,
You learned to live with memories,
Here, slip this sinner up your sleeve,
Just stay inside until I leave.

It has to be said, this thing called responsibility. I have come to likening it to opening the Pandora's box ~ all sorts of vermin will come running out, scaring the living daylights out of you. And because you know it's Pandora's box, you have to find it in you to go back in and shut it. So that hope remains.

And that is what I will carry with me in moderate amounts into 2013 - HOPE. For have I not had an extra 40 days with my dad? Did his oncologist not give him a mere 2 months to live way back in September? From not knowing if we would see his 64th birthday with him, we ended up celebrating Christmas and the year end in a grand fashion - with the family safe in my lil hole in the sky, singing the 12 days of Christmas in our own individual way.

The hands of time may tick no more
Let darkness fall upon this door
No waves will wash up on this shore
I won the fight but lost the war.

I must say, most days this year, were not easy ones. With less than a handful of people I can call my own, I am walking into the new year feeling a little less for wear. I am run myself ragged, trying to accomplish this, that and again - the other, all at once.

There were roses I have loved
Who've given or have given up
I pushed your patience and my luck

But I stand proud and tall tonight as dusk falls across the KL skyline, as folks make their way into the city to ring in the new year, surrounded by friends and strangers. For while I have been at my worst, I have also been at my best in terms of my own emotional self.

While there can be many moments to recall, I take with me tonight, the memory of biting the bullet and admitting out-loud that I am human. And because I am human, I am capable of feeling love. And because I am capable of feeling love, I am able to once more (after 6 long years), come face-to-face with it and say it out loud.

It wasn't love I didn't trust
It wasn't you, or me, or us
You've shouldered 'ifs', and 'ands', and 'buts'
It's that way ok, I've said too much 

I like to think that it is that honesty and vulnerability that has seen me through this year of near-deaths, disappointments, exhaustion and despair. It is that honesty and vulnerability that has enabled people to catch me when I fell, jumping off balconies to snatch me back from the clutches of hopelessness. 

 

But I've been running, always running
Never had both feet on the floor

And so while tomorrow may be 1st January 2013 and I will need to put a new desk calendar on my desk, I know my road will remain much the same: bumpy and dusty. But if anything this year has taught me, I know that whatever 2013 brings, I will be able to face it with courage, with dignity and with honour. And I will be able to look myself in the mirror 365 days from today and say to myself that "I did the best I could and that was it enough."


To quote my favourite tv show, after 9 years - There's no shame in simply being human. It can be a relief to stop hiding, to accept who you really are. A little self awareness never hurt anyone. Because when you know who you are, it's easier to know what you're about, what you really need.


I've been running, always running
Now I ain't running anymore

2013 - I will not run from you, even though the prospects of you scare the shit out of me.


Happy New Year everyone!
~Not running anymore~

By Jon Bon Jovi

Playing for Keeps

I have been behaving badly the last few months. Of course everyone writes it off to the strain - emotional, physical and financial - that I have been under. But yet, I know that those are no excuse as I continuously push the envelope further from  the center of the table.

And while I can apologise each time I mis-behave, I also know at the back of my head that each person has their hard limits. As I scratch my way through them, sooner or later - they will run out.

To say I am at a precipice would be incorrect. I am no longer on the edge of the cliff, wondering to jump or not to jump. For some strange reason, the decision to jump was made for me. Afterall, was it not said - wasn't this boxed off years ago? *Hmm ~ Did it, without me knowing?*

Maybe it was all waiting for me in the sidelines. And as I made one move after another, slowly but surely with copious amounts of drinking courage, it fell into place. Perhaps that is why I had "jumped" and not knew about it.

And so it comes down to this - how do I behave so that I do not run out of space and end up where I do not want to be?

My parents celebrated their 38th wedding anniversary this week past. 38 years and the recent ones has not been getting any easier. For 10 nights, my mum slept on a dodgy sofa bed alongside my dad as he recuperated in the hospital. For many weeks, my dad put up with my mum's silent fuming as the maggots razed through her consciousness (yes - we have the same maggot infliction!). Yet, on the 38th anniversary, they held hands so tightly as they walked into the hospital for my dad's check up.

I wish I had taken a picture of that moment. But I know for the life of me, I will never forget it. The clasp of his right and her left. The fingers entwined so tightly as she feared him pain from his surgery site and he needing her support to walk back into his "house of horrors".

And I wonder to myself, will I ever get there? And also, how did I end up here? For a product of a healthy married relationship, I sure am broken in so many ways. For am I not sitting here tonight, wondering where has the last 4-something years gone, how did it move forward to where I think it is today, without me seeing it?

I have been told that "putting up" with me is a better deal than "giving up" on me. So I know for a fact that someone out there has hopes that there is a good person in lil ole body. That the soul of this lost one is not that lost at all.

Now I suppose all I need to do on my end is to actually have that same belief in myself.

If only I knew how.

Emptying

It has been a long time since I last entered my thoughts here. Things have been less than smooth - "bumpy" would be a gross understatement.

The silver lining would be that my Dad has one less tumour burden in his body. After months of chasing tails, it was finally done successfully over a week ago.

Today I am mourning the loss of my life position and security. Which is a terrible thing to do when I should be rejoicing the saving of my Dad's life. Bear in mind now - the two are distinct and separate issues. If you cannot separate the two, then you do not know me well.

After so many years of struggles, I am back at square one. Yesterday, I had to tell my child that she has to wait till pay-day to buy a book. Today I am fighting down the urge to ring a close friend out to tea so that I can spill my soul on her shoulder, because I can't afford to pay for tea.

Don't get me wrong - I would not trade my father's life for my bank account balance. That is not my rant, nor my whine. I am just so tired of these responsibilities. I am just so tired of denying my kids.

I am angry. I am frustrated. I am tired. 

I am broken and broke.

For Better or Worse

This week, I have a new perspective on what people say when they make their marriage vows.

I am a runner. I am still a runner. When the going gets tough, I have to sneak away, hide and piece together the pieces, before I can come back and stand beside whoever it is who needs me before I can make good my part of any sort.

Since Dad's diagnosis, I have been itching to run for the hills. And finally, last week, I could in the guise of a work travel. 7 days and night on my own, in gloomy, wet cold England where I had wanted to let the autumn air and leave fall envelope me in its deep, dark embrace.

And so I did. Walking in the rain, staring into space on my endless train rides across the country. And I have returned - refreshed and recharge. Ready to take on come what may.

But as I look around me in my local environment, I cannot help but feel sad for my Mom. For while I can run when I need to and want to, take a hiatus from all this: Mom is stuck where she is. Because she is his wife. She is his partner.

And you know what? As tired as she is, her vows keeps her going and so, she sees no need to run.

And we wonder why I am still on my own - after all this time?