It was Christmas dinner with my brother’s extended family.  He somehow managed to stand next to me while I was chatting away.  I looked at him and nodded.  A moment later, there was a discreet nudge at my knee.  I looked at him again to see if this was really happening.  And it was.  We stood there, our bodies in contact.  No one in the room seemed to notice this PDA.  I decided to raise the stakes and moved my hands slowly up and down his back.  He looked at me and we connected.

He must have sat at the other table during dinner. No one  seemed to notice us, if they did, they were probably too stunned or polite to say anything.  After dinner and while the tables were being cleared, everybody dispersed.  He sat down beside me and lowered his head to my knee, nudging ever closer to my ahem…  His curly hair was soft to touch.  After a few more minutes of this, he went away again.  I was hard  mesmerized.

Dessert was cake and ice cream.  But it had an odd smell.  Then I realized what that smell was.  It was his scent.  I could smell it each time I raised the fork to my mouth.  It was all over my hands and sleeve.  Dog breath.  Stupid dog -  you some breath mints if you’re going to do anything with your mouth.  After I got home, I could smell that dog all over my jeans and shirt.  I stripped off all my clothes and threw it into the washing machine.  From now on, no more PDA with dogs.

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything.  It’s partly because I don’t really have anything good to write about.

These past few years, the long, dark days of winter have dampened my mood.  I’ve also gotten way out of shape.  When I’m stressed, I tend to eat more.  When I’m at my dad’s place, I snack like crazy.  It doesn’t help that my sister leaves a lot of junk food around.  Dinners there are usually take out food.  No one really has time to cook.  I downloaded a fitness app only to find out how far out of shape I’m in.  I don’t sleep enough.  I know I’ll pay dearly for this.

My dad’s health is declining rapidly.  We used to celebrate minor victories.  He ate well.  He slept well.  He had a bowel movement.  There wasn’t any pain.  It’s hard to find those minor victories now.  I stayed over the other night.  I told my sister to go to bed and she did around 1 AM.  My dad called out frequently when he is asleep – not deep sleep.  I had to keep checking to see if he was really calling out or just talking in his sleep.  He did wake up a couple of times and I gave him some water.  I would hold his hands to give him some assurance and told him to rest and go back to sleep.  I think the hardest part is watching him grimacing in pain when he is being changed.  I finally got to nap for an hour around 4.  My sister woke up a few times to check.  She eventually got up around 5.  It’s like this for her every night.  I left the house just as the rush hour started.  When I got home, I fueled myself with caffeine to get me through the day.   My brother came over later that day with food.

Is this heroic? No.  I’m just doing my bit to help.  I have no idea how previous generations handled all of this.  How do the people living around the poverty line manage with elder care and dementia?

Writing is one of the few things that keep me sane.  I wish I had more time for this.

A few years ago, I lost my mom to cancer.  At least, that’s what I tell people.  She was diagnosed just before winter and passed away in the summer.   She knew she didn’t have long to live when she went into the hospital.  It was for a tracheotomy.  The tumor was creating a lot of pain in the neck area and slowly choking her.  All she wanted was just a few weeks – preferably at home.  I remember her laughing after the surgery. We tried to make the hospital room as comfortable as possible.  The nurses and staff let us use the second bed.  We brought in a CD player and her Chinese newspapers.   I would bring in my photography magazines so she could look at some of the wonderful outdoor & wildlife photography.  Everyday she would ask what day it was.  Eventually we would just tell her the date right once we showed up.  Her bed was too low and too far from the window.  All she saw was the sky.  We would describe the scenery to her.

One day, my dad  said “listen to this”.  In her new guttural voice, she said “Happy Birthday” to my dad.  My dad laughed.  It was the first time both of them laughed in the hospital.  I had forgotten it was my dad’s birthday.  She started to talk cautiously about coming home and to see her garden.  I wondered how we were going to handle this but was glad that there was a chance of her coming home.

Then the cruel daggers of reality struck.  Several times a day, her throat had to be cleared of mucus.  It was a tube sucked the mucus out.  She struggled and it was a painful ordeal.  The nurses wanted teach us how to do it.  Both my sister and brother tried.  I didn’t.  I couldn’t bear to see her struggle as if she was being choked.  There was also a rotten smell from the opening.  My mom’s sense of smell was very keen and I don’t know how she coped with it.

One day, my sister and I were with her.  She wanted to go to the bathroom.  I had done this before with my brother.  I held on to her while my brother wiped her.  I felt her shame.  This time my sister was there so I thought it might be a bit easier.  But as she went into the bathroom, she fainted.  I held on to her desperately and let her body leaned on mine.  I had the wall to support my back.  But my arms couldn’t hold on to her.  I slowly slid down the wall to the floor while holding on to her.   The nurses came in and took over.  I felt so useless.

When I spoke to my mom afterwards, she didn’t remember what happened.  A couple of days later, I got a call from my sister early in the morning.  My mom wanted to meet with all of us.  When we got there, she told us in that strange new voice “I want to die.”  I didn’t say anything.  I noticed my dad slowly walking out of the room.  He put his head to the wall and started to cry.  I walked over and just put my hand on his shoulder.  The next few moments are a blur.  A priest came in to give her the last rites.  I mumbled the Lord’s Prayer.  Later that day, a nurse removed the tube for her peritoneal dialysis.   Her doctor saw us afterwards and assured us the diabetic coma would be painless.  There was a part of me that was numb to all of this. One night, it was just me and her in the room.  She was asleep.  I started by rattling off the date.  Then slowly as I held her hand, I thanked her for being a wonderful mom and for raising me.  I struggled because I had to speak Cantonese.  I felt like a child again.  I told her she would see her mom, dad and sister.  Then I said she would see her beloved cats.  She suddenly smiled and held that for about a second.  I knew she heard me.   I just wanted her to know things would be ok.

She passed away while my brother and I were in the funeral home making arrangements.  I realized then why she kept asking us for the date.  She hung on 1 day past her wedding anniversary.  I knew she didn’t want my dad to associate that day with her death.  The cancer didn’t beat her.  She was brave to the end and died on her terms.

To my readers, I’m sorry if all of my recent posts have been grim.  I need to slowly get this stuff out of me.

There’s some odd things happening in my condo.  A couple of weeks ago, in the wee hours of the night, I heard creaking sounds.  I tell myself it’s the temperature change that’s causing the hardwood floors to creak.  But this time it sounded as if there was someone walking inside my unit.  I got out of bed and looked around my unit.  There wasn’t anyone of course.  But a couple of my kitchen cupboards doors were opened.  Hmm…. I have left them opened before but I had no idea if I left them opened that night.  Needless to say, I left the lights on when I went back to bed.

A few nights ago, I was washing dishes when I heard a loud noise behind me.  A box of plastic food containers fell and spilled open.  This box has been sitting on top of a case of water for months.  The only way it could have fallen if someone walked by it and caught the edge of the box with their foot.   I’m sure there is a logical explanation but I haven’t figured it out yet.

Strange…

Update on my dad:  He’s not doing that well.  He got a bit violent, pushing the personal support worker, swearing and throwing things. I had to keep calm when I talked to him.  The doctor at the hospital told us that when the dementia gets worse, some of the patient’s fears and behaviours gets exaggerated.  If the patient was a cautious and suspicious type of person, that behaviour might become dominant.  In my dad’s case, he is a solitary figure.  He just kept telling us “leave me the f*ck alone!”.   I know something is bothering him but I couldn’t get it out from him or he wasn’t able to express it which made him even more frustrated.  The home care is still best for him now despite all the challenges.