It’s pretty rough right now at work.  Every so often things get pretty stressful and my mgm’t team gets on my case.  I worked over the weekend to try and catch up.  Alas, there just aren’t enough hours during the day.  I finished my last meeting today after 10PM… on a Sunday night.  I have to constantly remind myself not to get too stressed out.  Work doesn’t define who I am.  Even if my management team doesn’t acknowledge any of my contributions, I have good team members that see it.  

There are many others who have it worse than I do. I dig deep into the grave yard of my memory and see other awful work experiences.  I’ve survived those and I’ll find a way to survive these and the ones to come.  But I also recognize I have my limits. 

Today as I was helping dad out the door for our Sunday dinner, my sister wanted us to wait for the washing machine to finish.  I ask her how much longer.  She tells me she just started.  I grit my teeth and tell her impatiently that I have a meeting tonight.  We need to get going so I can call in on time.  She muttered something and turned off the washing machine.  During dinner, dad was quieter than usual.  But he’s always quiet when my sister is around.  I ordered enough food to fill our small table.  He told me earlier he only had a light lunch and was hungry.  Yet he barely touched his rice and nibbled on some food.  I’m a fast eater so I always finish before him.  But tonight, it was his turn to wait for me to finish.  He insisted on getting the bill and I wasn’t about to argue.  As we left I realized why he didn’t eat that much.  He didn’t want to hold me up from my meeting. 

Between guilt and stress, I’m sure I’ll wither away soon. 

One of my relatives came over for an extended visit and is staying with my brother.  My brother drove him to meet up with us for a family for dinner on the weekend.  I was surprised how good his English is compared to a couple of years ago.  He speaks French and I think a smattering of German.  Although he’s 1/4 Chinese, he looks Caucasian with his light brown hair and neatly trimmed beard. My sister ordered sweet and sour chicken for him as it was his favorite.  He ate everything that came his way (fried oysters, efu-noodles, tofu and scallop in black bean sauce, beef in oyster sauce and of course rice).  He told us that he has rice twice a week at home along with Chinese style food. 

I thought about my other relatives on my dad’s side and they are mixed (Caucasian, Filipino, Hawaiian, African American, Italian and of course Chinese).  We haven’t had a family reunion for many years now.  We’re pretty well scattered across the globe. But maybe it’s time to get together again as so many of the older generation (my dad’s generation) have passed way recently. 

My mom’s family is from China and there hasn’t been any mixed marriages (at least none that I’m aware of).  But many years ago, my mom told me about a relative she met when they were in China. This woman looked Caucasian.  The village they had lived in was by a sea port so it was rumored that the child was from a visiting sailor. Maybe this explains why my Cantonese is so poor & why I love pasta.  I have some Caucasian DNA in me. (just kidding… ). 

Something strange just happened as I was typing this.  I heard creaking noises behind me.  I know the hardwood floors will sometimes creak but it’s creepy when I’m by myself.  I actually walked around the condo and heard it from my bedroom.  I think I’m going to be sleeping with the lights on tonight.  Now where did I put my teddy bear?

We weren’t sure how to handle telling dad about his younger brother.  We had gotten news that he has liver cancer.  But we decided to tell him as it would be cruel to withhold the information.  On the way to dinner one night, dad asked if I had more information.  I told him everything I knew which wasn’t much.  “How could he have gotten liver cancer?  He never had any signs of it.”  He went on a bit and became quiet.  We always drive on the highway near the airport.  He likes watching planes too and I was hoping there would be something big like a 747 landing.  But the skies were empty.  Suddenly my dad said “We weren’t that close.”. That was the end of the conversation.

A couple of days ago, I gotten word that my uncle was moved to a palliative care centre and his condition has gotten worse.  His wife sent an email out and said that if anyone has a message to be read to him, she would do that.  My dad’s family aren’t that close and I’m not close to them as well (with the exception of one cousin).  Everyone is scattered across the globe but the gap in family bond is even farther apart.  It took me a day to write a short paragraph to my uncle.  

This situation has made me think about my own siblings.  We aren’t that tight.  We don’t hug, don’t talk much during the week etc…  I only see my sister when I visit my dad.  I see my brother when we take dad down to his appointments.  But we don’t have those heartfelt talks you see on movies.  While we aren’t feuding, I can sense that when my dad passes on, I’ll probably go my separate ways and see them only during Xmas or some holidays.  I have to admit there are days when I don’t care for any family presence at all.  It’s sad.  Mom and dad would be shaking their heads if they knew how I felt.

Oncologist (noun):  doctors who seldom have good news. 

I hope someday more and more oncologists can deliver good news. 

It’s hard to enjoy life right now.  There are pockets of good times that I cherish and that’s about it.  Inevitably something bad always follows every time I have a small moment of happiness or time to catch my breath.  Life is like that I suppose.  There’s nothing you can do but to suck it up and endure.  

Peace.

I’ve been working and staying at my dad’s place this week.  My sis is traveling on business.  It’s been tricky balancing work but it’s a quiet week (meeting wise) and most people attend meetings by phone anyways.  But it’s not comfortable working here and I have to walk around every hour to stretch my back.  My productivity is not that high when compared to working in an office so I work late to make up for it.  It just makes for long days. 

I was also very apprehensive as there’s only one spare bed left in the house.  It’s my mom’s old bed.  I changed the sheets (even though it has been changed since she passed away years ago) and was grateful I could fall asleep there.  Dad is spoiled whenever I’m here.  I chat with him during my breaks, get him tea, fruits, towel to wipe his face, get his mail, do his laundry, pay his bills and give him gentle reminders to brush his teeth and take his meds.  He gets 3 full meals as well.  He looked sad when I told him I am leaving Thursday night.  He also wanted me to swing by next week on a certain day but I couldn’t.  He has a couple of folks over to visit him and he was hoping I could help make coffee.  So I’ll have to figure out what to do.

It just overwhelming sometimes when I stay here.  There’s so much to do (e.g. cleaning, repairs) and I can’t get to any of them.  I keep telling myself I should enjoy the time I have with him.  It’s ironic.  I’ve always to have kids.  But my parenting skills are for my dad.  

I accompanied dad to another of his medical appointments.  It’s a huge waiting room, a bit dark and lined with seats.  Dad was quiet and for once was reading his magazine.  I had an old paperback science fiction novel.  I would discreetly glance at dad every so often to see if he had nodded off.  There weren’t a lot of folks in the waiting room and the nurses would come out and call out the next appointments.  Dad and I quietly settled into our reading, each of us trying to get comfortable in the firm and narrow seats.  I heard a gruff and hoarse voice of a new patient wandering in.  A woman’s voice quickly retorted “Dad!  Will you stop talking so loud! Why do you have to yell?”  I looked up.  The father was an stout man with a well tanned skin.  He was probably in his late 60′s, balding and had a cane.  He stopped, turned to the woman behind him and said “I wasn’t yelling.”  He had a deep, gravely voice with a slight accent that I couldn’t place.  The woman was in her mid to late 30′s, long brown hair with one hand texting on her phone.  She had a frown.  She looked and sounded impatient.  

They eventually sat down after another brief exchange.  The man started a conversation with a person sitting beside him.  “I wasn’t yelling.  I used to be a miner.”  While his voice was loud, I didn’t think he was yelling either.  While the man was going on with his neighbor, the woman was talking to someone on her phone.  I stared at my book and tried to regain my concentration.  Twenty minutes later, a nurse came out to talk to them.  The woman held a finger out to the nurse and told the person on the phone “I have to go now, the hospital lady wants to talk to me.”  Her hand gestured dramatically as if she was conducting a concert. “I’ll call you back.  Yes… I’ll call you back in a few minutes.  Right… ok… yes, she’s here and needs to talk to me.”   The nurse quietly told them that one of the scanners is down and they need to reschedule their appointment for the next day.  They agreed on the time to come back.  The father looked a bit confused but got up to listen to the exchange.   

“Come on dad!  We have to go now!”  The woman was already 15 feet ahead.  The father slowly moved to catch up “Yes, I’m coming.”  “Stop talking so loud!”  The old man said to no one in particular.  “I used to be in a mine.”  He pointed to his ears, “I can’t hear too well.”  He noticed me staring at him.  I smiled back and waved goodbye to him.  He smiled at me and slowly walked off. 

I glanced over at dad and felt bad for all of us.  I wonder if I sound that way when I’m impatient. 

It’s difficult and heart breaking to watch the relationship between my sis and my dad deteriorate.  They can’t be in the same room without something triggering an argument.  My dad told me he feels like a burden and maybe it’s time for him to move on.  I know dad will say stupid things from time to time because he can’t help it anymore.  But my sister takes them very personally.  A simple remark (e.g. the chicken was a bit salty) about the food she brought home (takeout) is perceived as he doesn’t appreciate her bringing food home (e.g. this is the thanks I get for bringing food home!). He doesn’t help his own case.  Sometimes he walks without his cane or walker which increases his risk of falling.  This then starts another round of argument. I know she hates being his primary care giver and views him as a burden.

Both are incredibly stubborn in their own ways.  My mom told me once that the “stubborn” gene is in my dad’s side of the family.  I once told her both my sister and brother must have that gene but skipped past me.  She just chuckled.

I don’t have a close relationship w/ my sister and watching her treat him like this makes me angry.  I’ve had to walk out a couple of times to control my own temper.  There are old issues and old wounds that have never healed and are now resurfacing.  I don’t know how to intervene anymore but I can’t give up.  I am pretty sure my dad will go to his grave without this relationship ever repaired and healed.  

I’m not that close to my siblings.  We don’t spill our guts out to each other or hug each other.  I’m the middle child, my sis is a couple of years older than me and my bro is a year younger.  My brother was just this annoying guy who grew up faster than I did.  He got a summer job before I ever did (and made more money at it).  He had a car before I did.  He had a gf before I did.  (oh wait, I never had one…).  It wasn’t until he told me he was getting married when it struck me he grew up without me being an older brother for him. I was never there for him.  We’re better now.  We always find a reason to laugh when we do get together.  I’ve never told him I’m gay but I doubt if that will come as a surprise to him. 

My sis is tough gal, a scrapper but with a gentle heart inside.  But she’s the type of person who doesn’t like to reveal that heart.  She never went to university. I don’t know why but she started to work in retail right out of high school.  In a lot of ways, she’s been pretty successful. Retail is a tough industry with slim margins.  It doesn’t pay that well.  My parents worry about her because she’s always been the sensitive type.  Right now, she’s the primary caretaker for my dad.  The two of them have never been close and their relationship is strained partly because of the stress.  I do what I can to help but I can’t be there every day.  So she’s the one that has to make sure dad is fed.  She looks at the relative freedom my brother and I have and I’m sure she isn’t happy with it.  The strained relationship between her and my dad is creating a lot of stress for me.  I worry that if I talk to her about it, she’ll somehow take it out on my dad.  I wasn’t that close to my dad either but when my mom died, I knew I had to figure out how to get closer to him. I wish she found a way to do this and I’m angry she hasn’t.

Now if either of them want dad to do something, they just leave it to me.  “He’ll listen to you Matt.”  Well – not always but I do try to figure out ways to get my dad to understand my position while acknowledging his.  Sometimes when sis is in a good mood, we’ll have a lot of fun and laughs.  We do have more than our fair share of civil conversation – don’t get me wrong.  It’s not always anger.  But we’re just not close.  I have my own issues to.  I’m not an easy person to get along with.  I’ve got my share of issues.  Thanks to my own rosy picture of myself, I can portray myself as a cross between Mother Teresa and the Dalai Lama. I’m nothing like that.  I can be very cold.

It’s odd.  I wasn’t even thinking of writing this.  Alex wrote about his brother it just got me thinking my own relationship with my siblings. I wonder what the future will hold for us when dad passes on. 

We’ve been keeping an eye on dad these past few weeks.  We received word that his brother in law (my uncle) passed away a couple of weeks ago.  He’s more like a friend to my dad and they have known each other for decades.  His brother in law lives across the ocean and my dad last visited him a few years ago when he was still able to get around.  They’ve always exchanged cards and phone calls.  I’ve only met him once and he was a very generous man with a big heart.  I dropped by the day after he heard the news to make sure he was ok.  He didn’t say much and kept to himself during our weekly dinner.  When I took him to one of his medical appointments, I broached the subject.  He wanted more details about my uncle’s death.  I told him as much as I know about my uncle’s illness.  At the hospital, he was unusually calm and patient even with the long wait. 

The next day though, he exploded in anger on my brother for something very trivial.  I was surprised when I heard about this.  I think my brother understood that it wasn’t anything he did.  My sister on the other hand has a somewhat tense relationship with my dad.  She’s the primary care giver so the stress is high.  While she cares for him very much, they have a tough time communicating with each other.  Sometimes I try to tell my sister that dad’s gradual dementia can get the better of him and she shouldn’t take it personally.  But we all have very different relationship with dad.   He worked long hours and it was mom that really raised us.  When mom passed away our “cushion” from dad was removed.  So each of us approached this in our own way and had to rebuild new bonds. 

I’m sure dad senses his mortality each day.  He failed an eye test as well which meant he had to stop driving.  It was something he had stubbornly refused despite our pleas and stern discussions.  It was the last vestige of a former life that he clung on to.  A life where he was independent and in charge.  The news of my uncle’s passing and his ill health are stark reminders.  I try to take all of this day by day but the days will soon run out.  There are still some difficult and tricky discussions that I need to have with him. 

I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to get a handle on my dad’s finances.  He doesn’t use a computer nor an ATM.   It was difficult trying to figure out what some of transactions are.  At one point, I started to raise my voice “You’re paying for something you don’t use?”  He looked at me and didn’t say anything.  I quickly calmed down and told him “Don’t worry, we’ll get everything sorted out.”   Later on in the evening, he asked me if I had a rough day at work.  He then told me “Your dad is getting to be a klutz with his banking.”  I kept telling he isn’t. 

For now, I’ve set up the accounts as joint accounts.  I can show him his transactions, pay his bills and he doesn’t have to get his passbook updated.   I’ve never been that organized with my own financial records.   This drives J nuts.  But after this past few weeks, my attitude has changed.