I held his hands and told him what an awesome dad he was.  I thought he moved his fingers a bit.  I watched as his breath grew shallower and slower.  I yelled for my siblings to come to the room.  We watched him take his final breath and said our goodbyes.  Just moments before I thought I could sense my mom but maybe it was my imagination.  He wasn’t in pain or discomfort.  We made sure the there were enough meds.  He had his last rites just hours before.  Our house is just a modest home but to him, it was his castle.  He loved it and died there.

Goodbye dad, I love you.  We’ll miss you.  Give mom a hug from all of us.  I’m happy that you’re with her now and free of the pain and suffering from your illness.

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.

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.

It hasn’t been easy putting my thoughts on paper.  I thought I was better able to handle  end of life care, palliative care, DNR and stuff like that.  But when doctors ask me (and my siblings) at the hospital “Does your dad understand what Do Not Resuscitate mean?  Have you looked into palliative care? Does your dad prefer to die at home or at a hospice?”

I thought with my dad at home, we could manage the visits from the various people (everyone from nurse to social worker).   But they just tell my sister they are coming over.  The house is just an extension of the hospital.  I guess surprise visits are part of the routine.  It doesn’t matter that my sister has to stop work for an hour or two to deal with them.  So she now bears the brunt of the questions.   They insist on asking my dad questions about end of life care.  I wish they would just f*ck off.  While dad knows he doesn’t have years left, I don’t want him to think he only has days to live.  In his current mental state, I don’t know how he’ll react.

Recently we got word that my favorite aunt passed away.  My siblings and I have different views on whether or not dad needs to know and what to tell him.  It hasn’t created a rift or anything like that.  I told them if he ask, I’ll tell him that she passed away.  I was the one that told him at the hospital about signing consent forms for applying to a hospice / palliative care centre and that the entire program of living at home is part of the hospital’s palliative care.  He paused and listened attentively.  I tried to keep it as simple as possible.  It seemed to work. He asked a few questions and was fine with it.  I think he was just glad to be going home.

I’m going to miss my aunt.  I spoke to her before she started her chemo.  Then everything fell apart.  She never made it back home.  I’m just glad she’s no longer in pain.

If you read this far down, you must be made of stern stuff.  I know a lot of my  recent entries have not been easy to read or even comment.  A blogger who I respect wrote that he was at a lost for words and felt helpless reading my recent entries.  But he wanted me to know he still read them even though he didn’t leave any comments.  I thanked him, not just for his honesty but for making the journey in life a bit more bearable.

I don’t know how to close this messy entry.  I know I’ll be fine and make it through this.  I’ve been down this road before.

My dad was a typical Asian father.  He was in charge although we knew mom was the bedrock of the family.  Dad sacrificed a lot and made sure we had a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes on our backs and an education.  When I started to work and gave money back to my parents, it was always to mom.  I pretty well used mom as a buffer.  It wasn’t that I was scared of dad.  It was just the way it was. 

Mom was always the one who would speak to dad.  She understood my father, his way of thinking and knew how to talk to him.  No matter how tired they were, they always made time every night to sit together and chat quietly.  Because dad was older, I always thought he would pass away first.  But that wasn’t the case.  Mom had a lot of illnesses and contracted a vicious form of cancer.  She passed away a few months after.  Dad was shaken to the core.  I didn’t know what to do with him and I never knew how to really talk to him.  But since mom’s passing, our relationship slowly grew.  He can be stubborn and annoying.  But I gradually enjoyed my weekly dinners with him.  He became my “date”.  We went to bookstores.  He would pass by the “Romantic Novels” section and proclaimed loudly that it was “garbage”.  We got a few glares from those faithful readers.  I helped him with his banking.  He never stopped giving me advice. 

When he started to get more and more confused, I started to get worried.  My instincts were to simply gradually bring him back to reality gently rather than act shock or confused.  He got me my first jock strap when I started high school.  I was too embarrassed to buy one myself for gym.  I got him his first adult diaper.  He told me he was too embarrassed about the problem and didn’t know what to do.

Every day at the hospital, I would make sure I hold dad’s hand or stroke it gently.  I joke with him.  He told me he was scared and that he prayed very hard.  He wasn’t sure if his prayers were answered.  He thought his prayers weren’t eloquent.  I told him prayers are prayers and they will be heard.  I keep telling him that we will be here and won’t abandon him. I never knew he prayed.  I never seen him this scared before.  

I don’t know what each day will bring.  Right now he just wants to go home.  So that’s what we’ll work towards.  Maybe the doctors will let him go home.

Mom was indeed the bedrock of the family.  She gave me one last gift when she passed away.  It was an opportunity to know my father a bit better and to see him in a different light. 
Thanks mom. 

I’ve been getting updates from my cousin sporadically.  My aunt is still in ICU and my cousin isn’t able to get out that often to send emails.  Today’s email wasn’t encouraging with just a glimmer of good news.  Every email seems to be a roller coaster of emotions.  If she gets better, she starts chemo immediately.  All of this is opening up memories of my mom’s last few weeks in the hospitals.  These are memories that I’ve buried and sealed.  But now they are coming back.  I had to catch myself several times today just to stop the emotions.  What’s also eerie is timing, my mom went into the hospital almost to the exact day 8 years ago. 

Between this, my dad and work – maybe life is trying to tell me that I need to pay more attention to living. 

“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”  George Bernard Shaw

My favorite aunt was recently diagnosed with lymphoma.  She’s my mom’s older sister and the last of the sisters on my mom’s side.  The sisters were tight and lived many miles apart.  But geography and time zones was overcome by their regular long distance phone calls.  As the years went on, we all got news the oldest sister in Hong Kong was on her last days. My mom couldn’t go back because of medical issues.  My favorite aunt and I flew back to Hong Kong.  We managed to see my aunt one last time before she took her last breath.  The phone calls continued but with one less sister. 

When my mom got cancer, my favorite aunt and my mom’s brother came over to visit.   They had a final reunion that was filled with laughter, food and solemn conversations.  It was a very teary goodbye.  After my mom passed away, my aunt flew in on the day of the funeral.  It was a very sad month for her.  Her husband had just passed away 2 weeks before.

Shortly after, I started to call my aunt about once a month to chat.  She had to put up with my limited Cantonese but we managed to chat each time for about 20 minutes.  Most of the conversation is just regular chit chat.  My cousin told me years later that her mom enjoyed my calls because I always made her laugh.  On months when I was really bogged down with work, my cousin would remind me that my aunt hasn’t heard from me in awhile.

I spoke with my aunt yesterday.  She’s undergoing tests to see where the cancer has spread.  She has other medical issues but they will have to wait.  Her first chemotherapy is in a week or two.  She sounded brave and determined.  But there was also fear in her voice.  She had told me just a few weeks ago she believed she had cancer.  Everyone told her that she was over reacting.  She asked about my dad, my work, and how every is doing.  I tried to sound optimistic but I also feared the worse.  

Last Sunday, I went to the cemetery to visit my mom.  I saw a pair of rabbits running after each other.  Sometimes they would stop and look at me.  One came with a few feet of me and stuck his tongue out before leaping away.  Above me a wood pecker was busy hammering at a tree trunk looking for insects.  A cool breeze fanned the evening air as dusk approached.  That night, I was able to sleep well for the first time in days without worrying about my aunt. 

I ate too much this past week.  I think I need a wheelbarrow to support my tummy when I walk. 

J cooked Xmas dinner for his family.  I got in just as J was dispatching the last of the lobsters and crabs.  He had a bandage on one of the fingers courtesy of a death grip from a crab.  I love these moments.  I put on my innocent face and asked “Did it hurt?”    

Here’s some of the pictures of the food.

The crab and lobsters dusted with corn starch before being dropped into the wok.

I was demoted to kitchen help and was asked to keep an eye on the tofu as they were being fried.

BBQ Pork

There were 2 heaping plates of lobsters and crabs stir fried in ginger and green onions.  It was very good.

After the tofu was fried, I drizzled some of the sauce that J made for it.  It’s a sweet / salty / tart sauce with shallots that
 complimented the fried tofu very well.  I took the extra sauce home.

There was also a dish with mushrooms, greens and sea cucumber.  I also took the extra sauce home too.

One of the relatives brought over sushi / sashimi. 

It was a long day for J and I gave him a backrub and leg massage afterwards.

For my family Xmas dinner, we went to a member of our extended family.  It was a potluck supper with everyone bringing in food.

My sister made butternut squash soup. 

Some of the candies that were scattered all over the house

The hostess made roast beef.  There were a lot of other dishes too but I was too busy eating.

Someone made cherry cheesecake for dessert.  I had a small slice and it was good but very filling.

What did I make?  Nothing, I was demoted to bringing wine.  Just as well, I didn’t have anytime this year to shop or cook.  Although we agreed not to exchange gifts, both my brother and sister got me presents.  What did I get them?  Nothing.  I guess I’ll have to find a way to make it up.  But I’m thankful to see dad smile at his gifts and for another opportunity to enjoy wonderful meals that were lovingly prepared.

I was talking with a colleague today about his work.  I don’t know him that well but we get along ok.  He is not an employee but rather a contractor.  I asked him if he’ll want to come back for another term.  He hesitated and wasn’t sure how to respond.  I told him I know he works a lot of long hours and he’ll need to take that into consideration if our company decides to extend his contract.  He pointed to the stickers on the cover of his laptop.  He told me his kids put them there. It’s his way to remember what is important.  Then he opened up a bit.  He works almost every evening past midnight.  He said it wasn’t unusual to be called a couple of times a night.  I told him I could relate a bit to those late night, early morning calls.  Sometimes it’s an irate client who will be raising hell to our execs.  It’s not easy. 

He also said he tries to play with his 2 kids after dinner but sometimes he just falls asleep.  His kids just walk away when they hear him snoring.  He said he can’t help fall asleep.  But he said the worse thing is when he snaps at his kids.  He’ll be working and his kids will hang around him wanting to play.  He just feels horrible and very guilty afterwards.  His hands were animated as he was talking.  He looked down to his right as if his kids were right there.  

When he looked back at me he said “I set aside one night for the kids now.”   I nodded in sympathy and told him  “Your family and health is more important than this contract.”  He smiled.  I told him my dad worked 6 1/2 days a week when I was growing up.  I only saw him on Sunday afternoons.  I could relate to what his kids were going through. 

I hope my colleague makes the right decision.  He’s an asset to our company.  But he’s a more important asset to his family.

We finished our meeting at 5PM.  He ran off to another meeting while I went back to my cubicle to do more work.  The irony was not lost on me.

A couple of weeks ago, dad told me that he wanted to visit the cemetery for Mother’s Day.  He has only been there a handful of times since mom passed away.  It affects him so much after each visit that he decided not to visit.  So I was surprised when he made the request.  I carefully inquired if he was up to it and he assured me that he was.  My sister and I picked up some flowers and we all piled into my car.  There was a bit of small talk on the way there but otherwise it was a quiet trip. 

When we got to the cemetery, I drove up as close to the columbarium and stopped the car (the columbarium is outdoors).  Dad was already trying to pull himself out of the car.  I quickly walked over to his side and helped him out of the car.  I held on to him (as I always do since he is not steady) and we walked about 30 feet to where mom’s spot was.  Her spot is eye level so he didn’t have to bend down.  He stood there and declined my suggestion to sit on the nearby bench.  I let go and gave him a bit of privacy.  My sister was already arranging and watering the flowers.  I helped my sister a bit with the flowers & went back to stand beside my father.  He said “The script is very nice.” referring to the writing on mom’s plaque.  “Yes it is dad, you wrote it.”  He nodded. 

He looked down at the flowers we selected and watched as my sister continued to fuss over them.  It was one of the few times he didn’t object to my sister taking her time.  He took a couple of steps back and looked around.  “I like this spot.  It’s quiet and shady.”  He looked back and noted the small reserved signs around mom’s spot.  I didn’t know what to say.  I hoped he remembered the spot beside mom was already reserved for him.  Finally my sister was done and we all agreed that our flowers are always the best.  He started to move and I helped him back to the car. 

During dinner, I watched him carefully for any signs of distress.  But he ate well and pronounced himself self stuffed.  I drove him home afterwards.  The peace didn’t last long.  Soon he and my sis started to disagree when he should take his eye drops.  I just sighed.  I didn’t need to be reminded that mom was always the glue that held us all together.