Tag Archives: my mother

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

Posted on by
4

It is almost April. How and when did we get here? I have not had a moment of peace since I don’t know when. We had all that trouble with the neighbour next door in the fall. When did I not have trouble with her since she’s moved in 10 plus years ago? But this time, it was enough to call the Police Liason for help. After that I had a small corridor of peace. In December Sheba had her ear hematoma and infection. It was to doggy ER twice and a total of 5 visits in 2 weeks and a bill of $600 plus. The money was the least of it. It was watching Sheba suffering with discomfort and anxiety. It was 2 weeks of little sleep and worry. But she did come out of it with a tiny crimp at the tip of her floppy ear.

Christmas was peaceful and January uneventful. I don’t have a clear memory of it. But came February, my mother came down with shingles on her left forehead. We caught it soon enough but it has been hellish. It’s one thing to watch your dog suffer, it is another to watch your mother. Every time I think it will ease up, it’s just a tease. So I should learn not to expect it to. Maybe then things will get better if I have no expectations and keep quiet. Though I have been accompanying her to her appointments and been vigiliant about possible complications to her eye, it has happened.

I do not have self blame for not doing a good enough job. But I am feeling a lot stressed and stretched now going into the 7th week. Even with the Coronavirus pandemic going on and the state of emergency declared in this province, I’ve managed to do a phone call appointment with her doctor. Then with my mother, an in person appointment at the office because by now her vision in her left eye is very blurry. She could see a tree but not its branches. She can see my face but not my features. She could not do the eye chart at all. It was the first time I saw her face crumble.

The good news inspite of all this is we got in to see someone the next morning at the Eye Centre at City Hospital. We were reassured that this is treatable. It will be reversed. But there’s always a but. She has to be on antiviral drug 3x/daily for 2 weeks and then a smaller dose once/day for a month. Plus a steroid eye drop 4 times a day for a month. If you know my mother, pills are a big problem. She has so much sensitivity to everything, even tylenol if she takes more than 2/day. She always makes it sound the side effects are worse than death. And who am I to argue? She’s the one feeling them. Maybe it’s just the Chinese way. So what do I do when she complains she’s having side effects and should she keep taking the pills – on a Saturday evening during a pandemic?

Well, I did the *!#^fk twirl around the kitchen island a few times. Then I called the pharmacy at Safeway. The pharmacists there are my best friends now. He looked everything up and said those side effects are really not for that drug. Then he advised maybe I called 8-1-1 and report it. I phoned my mother to check her symptons again. She was adamant her symptoms were drug related and not virus related. Next move, page the doctor on call. She was prompt in answering and helpful with advice. Which was more important – my mother’s eyesight or the side effects? And with those symptoms it doesn’t sound like the coronavirus. It was not necessary to call 8-1-1.

That was the question I put to my mother. She is taking her pills. We got into a squabble. I lost my temper. She said I over reacted. I needed not have gone all to that length. She was just asking my opinion what to do. I reminded her that I am not a doctor. Any answer I give her could be the wrong one. She has to make a judgement about how bad those ‘side effect’ are and her vision. The good news is her vision is a little better and the pain is a little better with the antiviral. I reminded her that she could also call her other daughter, who is a pharmacist even though she is busy and there’s a pandemic.

So, I’ve laid out my anguish here. I was really feeling squeezed between a rock and a hard place. I probably shouldn’t have lost it with my mother. I’m stressed and stretched. She’s in pain and probably anxiety which she denies it. She said she is not worried and very calm. But she did yelled at me and I yelled back. But I’m still the one looking out and after her. This morning Hamlet’s ‘to be or not to be soliloquy’ was playing in my head. My wish at the moment was to be extinquished and disappear without drama and fanfare – like a firefly. It is painful to be in this world. I feel as if I’m everyone’s keeper and have no self. I guess I am a bit of a drama queen. It is not the Chinese way but it feels good to get it off my chest. I’ve never claim to be a good Chinese. I’m just flipping sad.

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.

 

 

 

MY MOTHER, MYSELF

Posted on by
Reply

Another day bites the dust. I am sitting here in early evening. I’m  trying for some profound thoughts but there are none. Some days are like that. If I’m not careful, I might fall asleep at the keyboard. Daylight is muted. A bit of sunshine glimmers above the rooftops, lighting up the yellow of the leaves.

The rain came this morning along with rolls of thunder. I welcomed both. They gave me excuses, if I need some, just sit back, relax and finish my book. I still have those feelings of getting on with the day. It’s healthy to have a dose of both. Otherwise, I could turn into a slouch. I could spend my whole life on the couch. I need those needling feelings to get back on my feet again and ‘accomplish’ stuff.

Not much accomplishments today. I took my parents out to the library and to the mall for coffee after. There’s not much that I could give them other than some time. Every few weeks, I take them to the library. It’s wonderful that it has a small section of Chinese books. My mother loves to read. She still interested to read and learn new things. My father not so much but enjoys the outing.

If there’s anybody that I aspire to be, it would be my mother. She gives me inspiration on how to be, how to live. She teaches me through her story telling. That’s how I’ve learned everything Chinese, the culture, my ancestors, my very being. Don’t get me wrong. I find faults with her, too. Our mother/daughter relationship has had many difficulties like all such relationships. I’ve had my share of ‘I hate my mother’. Growing and maturing has enabled me to understand my mother and see from her point of view. Sometimes, especially in recent times, I feel as if I am my mother.

I never expected to arrive to this space of contentment . But I have. In this very moment I am very at peace with where I am and what I have done with my life. It is very sweet.

 

LIMPING TOWARDS BLISS

Posted on by
8

I have to admit I am wilting in the heat of the weather and the stress of life. I pull no punches, pretending I live in La La Land. I have a pot of tumeric tea brewing, the fan oscillating in my writing space and counting my blessings. I’m grateful for seeing my mother this morning. She is feeling well and independent in her own home. She made soup for me. She also shared with me her gifted sticky rice. I am happy that she has such friends. They know she has limitations and is looking out for her. I have tears of happiness for her bounty of caring friends.

I wish the same for myself. I have alot to learn yet. I have not seen enough of the world or life. One thing I know for sure is, I can’t fight the heat. I can only limp along with however much strength it allows me. And it was tough last night. Sheba and I limped along well after the supper hour. It was very slow going in the heat and humidity of the evening. But we DID make it to the Dairy Queen. My furbaby behaved like a proper queen, behaving, not barking up a storm or jumping. We shared a hot fudge sundae, taking care she gets none of the chocolate. Next time I have to ask for an extra spoon for her. It was kind of messy using my finger.

What else can I say on another hot day in July? Life is not perfect. It is not a bowl of cherries. I have a fan. I have AC. I have Sheba. I have myself. My garden is doing fantastic. There’s a bird nesting in the grapevines. It’s still there. I’ve just scared it out of its nest with my curiosity. I still have all those bills yet to be paid. But I have a few days of grace yet. Oh yes. I like to attend Mass this afternoon. I hope I’m brave enough. It’s been a long while and it’s difficult to return. I feel like the prodigal daughter.

My path

To help me along, I could get dressed and be ready. If I make it or not, I have set out the intention. What I have learned is that there is no forcing. You can’t force yourself or anyone else in doing what is not felt right. I will just have to limp along towards the promised land. That is also progress.

MESSAGE TO LILY

Posted on by
4

How intrusive the world! So many phone calls on things I do not need nor asked for. Those poor Call Center employees. I am not much of a consumer. They will not get much business from me. They do not listen. They keep calling back. I hang up. I am not in a ‘good mood’ or a peaceful frame of mind. My head is in a dither. The conversation within is like a ticker tape going on endlessly.

There’s no stopping it so I just watch it in my mind’s eye. I’m tapping here to slow down the ticking in my head and the fluttering in my heart. It’s working. My mind and hands are engaged in another activity. I’ve done my qigong routine. A batch of yogurt is under the yogurt machine’s hood. I’m finishing the last of the strawberries before they go bad. The bills are paid except for my property tax. I still have till the end of June to deal with it. I’ve gathered my papers to meet with my banker this afternoon. Even retired, there’s stuff to deal with. It’s not a vacation. I’m not in a hammock by the beach. Some days I want to run away from home.

My garden is a bit half assed this year. I’ve started a few bedding plants, enough petunias and snapdragons for my mother’s flower beds. She doesn’t ask for much. In fact she doesn’t ask for anything. But it is nice that I could do this much for her. I hope she will let me plant them for her. Her strength has declined but she is fiercely independent. She is very good at compensating and finding alternative ways of doing everything. My mother is awe-inspiring.

I have seeded one raised bed with lettuce, spinach and kale. They are all rising above the earth. The other 4 beds sit empty, waiting for me to get my shit together. I have cleared and worked the garden area. The strawberries I transplanted last fall have survived. The rhubarb is looking good. The peas and a few beans are planted. I am a bit lost but not idle.

It is late afternoon. I am hot and tired. I have met with my banker. We did some planning. All is well but I have not kept up with records and paperwork. It is not anything new but it is quite distressing to me. There is no point in tackling the problem now, though I did try. It resulted in more hair-on-end kind of frustration. I have to sort it out as I had with the basement, a little at a time.

I am learning a lesson here. No matter how we I try to ignore or hide a problem, whatever it is, it never goes away. It will surface sooner or later. You I will have to face it or maybe trip over it. There’s no where to hide. It demands resolution. I think I’ve finally got the message now. Really I have.

STOP! LET ME THINK

Posted on by
2

I am not making any better time today but at least I am not making more clutter. I dealt swiftly with the incoming mail. I just have to repeat it every day. So many things are calling my name. Some things will have to wait. I will make a list of things to tend to for tomorrow. I will use my small index cards. Got the idea from Kinsey Millhone, the private detective character from Sue Grafton’s alphabet series. She jots important notes on index cards and files them after. Mine can go into the recycling bin after.

My flow of words seemed to have dried up! Maybe I need my glass of wine now. Goes to show how exciting my life is. I started back with my aerobic classes after a few absent sessions due to physical ailments and the Easter weekend. It feels like it’s been a long while. I’m feeling out of shape already and my enthusiasm waning. There is danger of dropping out hanging in air. This spring has been hard. I said that about winter, too, didn’t I?

I’ve been using the word too much lately. I can hear my mother admonishing me in my head. She’s a great storyteller. She used to talk to me about our family and ancestors. She admires my grandfather’s brother and recounts numerous things that he has told her. One of which is never think of anything as being hard. Make a start and things will follow to resolution. In a difficult situation he would say, Stop! Let me think. They’re very good stategies. A pause is often fruitful whereas rash reactions could lead to more problems.

I’m working on my glass of wine now. Feeling mellow. Enjoying the pause. Tomorrow is another day.

LIES WE TELL OURSELVES

Posted on by
2

I hate this time of the day. It’s no lie. Lunch is over and the cleanup done. I’m left with this down in my boots feeling. How to rise again. I really could use Wonder Woman’s boots. Better yet, I wish I am her. I could be doing wonders instead of sitting at keyboard, trying with nothing coming. No ideas, no songs, nothing important to say. Maybe I can sit and rest awhile. Is there a need for idle chatter? Can we just sit together, breathe and be? Wait, I’m going to make a cup of tea.

I’m back with my tea. While I was waiting for the kettle to boil, I damp mopped the kitchen floor. It led to most of the floors. I’m training myself to use moments to pick up, mop up and whatever-else. The I-will-do-it-later/tomorrow sometimes never happens. Then I will have to spend a difficult whole day digging out of the piles and messes. I try not to tell myself that do-it-later lie any more. Let’s see how I do.

I am thinking of another lie we say a lot. You are not getting older. You’re getting better. I don’t think it would make the older person feel any better. I don’t tell anyone that. I’m thinking of my mother. I had tea with her yesterday. I don’t think she would say she is getting better when she is losing physical strength and stamina. What she does say is that she is not useful anymore. It is how she feels and I am not one to disregard her feelings. I just listen. I try to help her maximize what she has. Of course, my mother is smarter than me and tells me so. She doesn’t need much help from me. She uses her brain to compensate for her deteriorating physical health. She is still doing awesome. I sit and listen to her. That’s my biggest help.

I don’t believe that I can overcome depression forever either. That’s another lie I will not tell myself anymore. Being human is being susceptible to all those emotions in the flux of life. How can I not feel bad when bad things happen? Conversely, how can I be sad when good things happen? Some of us are luckier than others, having cheerier and easier dispositions. I am not one of them. I have been in dark places, on medication and on the couch. It is not where I am now. Learning and understanding my nature and life experience have been the key. And equally, so is exercise. I remind myself that I am not a robot. I feel. I screw up sometimes. Life is not perfect. I am allowed to be depress from time to time.

How about you? How are you doing and what lies do you tell yourself?