It's been many years since I saw dad on lying on a hospital bed.  This time it was for a routine surgery.  The doctors say they do this so often that it has become routine.   He was very impatient waiting for his operation.  I don't think he slept that much and was grumpy throughout the morning.  I guess when you aren't allowed to eat or drink, you're allowed to be grumpy.  My brother kept wandering off to find a good signal for his smartphone.  My sister went off to look for coffee.  I didn't mind being alone with dad even though he was asleep.  After a few hours of waiting, they finally wheeled him off for the surgery.  I didn't say goodbye because it was routine.  We told him we would be waiting for him in the recovery room. 

We went back downstairs to grab a bite to eat and waited.  I chatted with my brother for a bit while my sister ran off to get some groceries.  I'm not particularly close to my siblings.  I think I had an awkward hug with my brother once although we do kid with each other a lot.  The last time I hugged my sis was when mom passed away.  My brother and I had a good chat about his career, his financial situation and caught up with each other.  After sis came back we continued to chat about this and that - nothing serious.  I knew we were all thinking the same thing about dad but none of us wanted to talk about it. 

After downing more coffees we went back upstairs to the waiting room.  There were a couple of folks there.  The only sound was from the TV.  No one smiled or spoke to each other.  I guess we were all lost in our own worlds.  After another hour, they wheeled dad into his room.  It has 4 beds.  One of the beds was unmade and a tray of food had been nibbled on.  They had given him a sedative and a local.  But he was groggy.  I was surprised at how gaunt he looked.  The bandages, the IV and other monitoring stuff that were on him made him looked so frail.  After a few minutes, he declared that he was hungry.  We took at look at his tray of hospital food.  There was some water, a sandwich and a wilted salad.  My sister decided to get some food from the food court downstairs.  I let him have a sip of water which he vomited.

It took another 5 hours of resting before he was able to leave.  We helped him change and eased him into the wheelchair.  My brother and sister took him home while I went home.  For the remainder of the week, I spent my days at his place helping with some chores and making sure he was ok.  He did have a nasty rash which the doctors diagnosed as a delayed allergic reaction to one of the medication. When I drove him back for a check up, he was a bit despondent.  "Why do all these things happen to me now when I'm old?"  I didn't know how to answer.  We drove by High Park.  It's always on our way but this time he said "Your mom and I used to go to this park a lot.  We had a lot of good walks here."  They would walk for an hour or two.  It was one of their many routines.  

I used to be able to compartmentalize my thoughts and feelings.  But not anymore.  It's not easy when I work or if I'm having fun.  Inevitably my mind will drift and think of my dad and what else I should be doing for him.  My mind is not at peaceful place to be in right now.  But I know for that to happen, my dad will have to be with my mom. 

While walking back from grocery shopping, I saw a float for the Portuguese Day drive by.  It's another example of the diverse culture in Toronto and in my neighborhood.  As I continued walking, I saw a bunch of cyclist coming my way.  They were still about 100 meters or so from me and were stopped at a traffic light.  The odd thing is that they looked naked.  When the light turned green and they made their way down to street, they were indeed naked.  Click here and here.  Pedestrians stared awkwardly, some kept on walking, some turned away while I tried to figure out how to stare discreetly.

There were all sorts of sizes and shapes in the 50 to 60 cyclists.  A few people were clothed and there was at least one woman who was painted.  I found out later it was part of World Naked Bike Ride.   Clearly these folks weren't shy about their bodies.  I doubt if you'll catch me doing something like that.  I mean, how do you handle the chaffing and saddle sores - let alone folks like me who will stare?  While I'm ok showering in a gym, I get uncomfortable if I think someone is staring at me. I mean, even when I'm with J - I'll cover up.  (ok - just kidding).  I've never been one that has ever felt comfortable with my own skin (in more ways than one). 

But writing about nudity is kinda boring.  Maybe we should have a poll - which Xangan do you want to see naked.  (Of course, no one will respond to this question).  Which Xangan do you think is comfortable nude in public?  Will Alex organize a nude Xangan meet up?  I better close this entry.  This is too much for my brain to handle. 

She was seated about 50 feet across from me in the hospital lobby.  I was waiting for my brother and my dad for another of his appointments.  The woman and I were both near the main entrance with many people coming and going.  Sometimes there would be curtains of bodies coming across covering and then uncovering the scene.  It was her eyes that caught my attention.  As I glanced around, her sad eyes seemed to call out to me. 

It was the eyes of someone who looked stunned and defeated.  Her shoulders were almost hunched over.  Another woman stood beside her and started talking.  She had one hand on the sad woman’s shoulder, gently rubbing it.   I forced myself to look outside the lobby instead. 

At the driveway, I noticed a couple helping an elderly woman from their car to the wheelchair.  It’s a one lane driveway and there were several cars in the line.  They all have been in this position before so they wait patiently.  The elderly woman looked fragile and weak.  Her legs weren’t moving at all.  Her thin arms looked fragile.  The other woman, perhaps her daughter, struggled to get the elderly woman seated.  After much maneuvering and shifting, the elderly woman was finally seated. The man waved sheepishly to the drivers in the long line up as he got back into the car to drive away.  I watched them enter into the hospital. The younger woman pushing the elderly woman look tired. 

I look back at the sad woman.  By now her lips started to tremble.  The woman standing beside her is still talking while holding the sad woman’s hand and rubbing it gently.  The seated woman wipes away the tears from her eyes and looks at me.  I glance out the lobby again.  When I look back, she is still crying.  I decide to leave the lobby and wait outside. 

Finally my brother pulls up and I go out to meet them.  I put my game face on and cheerfully greet them.  I help dad from the car and into the lobby.  It’s our turn to take the stage.  He shuffles along with the help of a cane while   I hold on to him.  “What’s today’s appointment for?”  I explain it to him again and he nods.  We slowly make our way to the elevators. 

There’s that saying “If these walls could talk...”  I wonder how these strong walls in the hospital can hold so many sad stories.  Even walls have limits. How do the engineers calculate this?  Maybe these walls get its strength from the silent dignity, defiance and maybe even denial from all the characters that come and go.  I’m sure it would take many, many strong writers to be able to listen to the walls and capture their stories. 

I made a quick run to the coffee shop, partly justifying it by needing a breath of fresh air and going for a walk.  I remember going to bed with a strange headache.  It's one that I've never experienced before and runs almost to the top of my head.  I figured the walk might help too.  The streets were surprisingly busy.  But then again it was already 10:30.  I was relieved that the sedative that I took at 2ish got me some contiguous hours of sleep.  The coffee shop wasn't busy when I got there.  I got my coffee and found a table by the window.  An older, vagrant looking guy with grey, greasy hair was reading newspapers that was neatly stacked in a plastic bag.  A man and a young girl was skyping on a laptop nearby.  Their conversation briefly rising above the music in the coffee shop.  The woman beside them with a Mac didn't seem to mind the commotion.  3 women had the couches by the main window.  One of them was demonstrating some make up contraption.  

From the window I could see the dog walkers greeting each other.  The dogs sniff each other inappropriately while the owners nod awkwardly.  I am sure the dogs would go home and lick their owners.  I saw an Asian guy some time ago in this coffee shop.  He would sit against the wall and simply type in his laptop.  He had some books and notes beside him.  I wonder if he is a writer. Was he drawing inspiration from his surroundings.  Did I make it into his book?  What would he write about me?

"A scruffy Asian man sat across me.  The hair in the back of his head stuck out awkwardly from the tossing and turning.  The paperback he is reading is like him... old, scruffed up... likely from a used book sale.  I recognize the cover - Dune.  It was good to see that book still surviving.  He has an interesting way of reading.  He would always look around to see who was around him.  I wonder if he was waiting for someone.  Waiting for Godot?  Good luck.  He has a discreet way of doing this too.  His gaze would never linger.  He's glanced at me several times already.  He's a people watcher just like me!"

Now I have a bunch of chores to do.  The headache has mostly dissipated.  The washing machine is wailing, the pots and dishes in the sink are crying, my bedroom is coughing from the dustballs... This was the Faustian pact I made.  A dash to the coffee shop in return for a day of chores. 

But before I go, how is your day so far?  Are you doing ok?  Did you get a chance to smile today?

I guess my frequent time off from work to look after my dad has got my manager worried.  While he is supportive and doesn't mind (I just take them as vacation days) I do know that if I take too much, my work will suffer even more.  Right now, I take between 2 to 4 days off a month to drive dad around.  I try to make it up by working longer hours.  But that comes at a price.  At the end of the year, when we are all ranked - I know my productivity won't be the highest.  Some days this just stresses me out.  There are also days when I figure - if they let me go then so be it.  I'll live on my savings for awhile.  I'd probably use the free time to look after dad and maybe take some courses on writing. 

The other week, I had to craft an email for my sr mgr who was going to forward it down to his bosses in the US.  He looked at it and said "you like to write don't you?"  I chuckled and was about to tell him that I do like to write.  But quickly realized he wanted me to edit it a lot more and make it as concise as possible.  I sheepishly nodded and re-edited it. 

Some days it saddens me that the only writing I do are these irregular entries in my blog or the reports I have to churn out for work.  That's why I have a great deal of respect and admiration for those of you who write regularly. As I mentioned in my previous entry, writing keeps me sane.

For now, it's back to my padded cell.

There are a lot of things I miss doing.  

1.  Washing my car by hand.  I like doing this on a nice, warm & cloudy summer day.  I could spend hours gently washing my car, going through every inch and cringing everytime I find a nick or a scratch.  My condo doesn't have a spot to wash cars.  There are some car washing bays where you pay a few bucks for a few minutes of water.  But there's always a line up and you can't spend hours in there.  There are also washing restrictions ... no more suds going down our sewers. 

2.  Doing absolutely nothing on a weekend.  My weekend is jammed especially on Sundays.  I jam all my chores into that day.  It's a good day if I can get half of them done.  I try to chip away some of it during the weekday but a lot of times, I come home late from work.  It seemed so long ago that I could just do nothing on the weekend.  My only worries was just feeding myself.  I could get used to being a vegetable. 

3.  I used to spend hours reading and exploring Xanga, Blogger and other sites.  Now I can barely keep up with my subscriptions and the few I follow elsewhere.  It was always interesting finding new blogs, to see the different styles of writing and admire their creativity. 

4.  Quiet time listening to music. I used to have time to just sit and follow the lyrics.  Nowadays, I just listen to it when I drive or as background when I'm puttering around the house.  

5.  Cooking with my mom.  One of the things we did together was wrapping wontons.  Our family were voracious eaters of wontons.  It was just like waving raw meat in front of a tiger.  So on Sunday mornings, we would wrap dozens and dozens of these delicious and plump wontons.  They were filled with pork & shrimp,  (some didn't have shrimp because my brother hates shrimp).  It would take about an hour or so of wrapping.  During that time, mom and I would just sit and chat.  They weren't weighty matters - it was just a chance for her to chat with me.  

6.  Being able to sleep within minutes of jumping into my bed.  I average about 5 hours of sleep on a good night.  No matter how tired I am, by the time I get into bed - I become wide awake. 

7.  Posing nude. (ok... just kidding)

8.  Getting drunk.  I actually don't miss this but I do miss the freedom to just get completely wasted.  I have to worry about getting a call at night to drive over to dad's place (it's happen a couple of times) to check in on him. 

9.  Writing regularly keeps me sane.  Since I don't write regularly I think I'm slowly going insane.  But if I'm going insane, would I be able to detect my growing insanity? 

10.  Calvin and Hobbes.

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'm a bundle of contradictions.

I have excellent interpersonal skills - with myself.

I'm a closet exhibitionist.

I'm a very quiet extrovert.

I talk a lot to myself. 

I always remember that I'm forgetful.

I love watching home repair shows but I never do any home repairs.  I can't even find a manual for hammers and screwdrivers.

I also love watching shows about repairing cars or fixing up cars.  But the most complex thing I've done is an oil change.

I get daily emails from Men's Health.  But I don't have a six pack at all.

I am wary about revealing anything about myself.  But I wish you folks would reveal everything about yourselves.

I'm a very private person and paranoid about any online stalkers.  But I secretly stalk you folks. 

I'm a very honest liar.  White lies don't count. 

I'm a very hard working procrastinator bordering on being a workaholic.

Welcome to my world where opposites attract.

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.