My Undying Love

One of the greatest blessings Pong has is her family’s support. Throughout her whole 26 years’ of being a disabled, no one in the family has ever said anything nasty to her. Everyone is supportive and concerned about her. When I met with her last year at the KLGH hospital, she spent the first hour talking to her family. Her father called from the house near the limestone cave.  Eldest sister who works in a shop in Ipoh called her during lunch time, making sure she finishes her lunch as Pong does not have much appetite. A sister who works in another town called.  Her adopted daughter who works in another town called. Her niece phoned after school to promise she will study hard. She told me at night, her eldest brother will call to report that everyone is fine at home and also to find out how she is doing in the hospital.

Such bonds between the family members and her provide her with high desire to get well. Even though the hospital treatments haven’t been up to par, her mental ability to stay alive has been cultivated through strong family support.

Although I live in a middle class home, Pong lives in a shack by the limestone cave, in many ways, Pong has more than me. She has precious undying family bonding that never once leaves her.

 It has been a challenging time for my teenage daughter who had to rush from office to hospital. Some days, she helmed the office with two other interns as she knew our admin operations very well. Since I am a workaholic, inevitably at home, when we were doing other things and the conversation topics went back to the office.

We have had quite a few quarrels these past few weeks. With my big fat tummy on me, there are many household chores I can no longer do and many things I can’t do for myself. Dropping dirty clothes onto the floor and unable to pick them up for the laundry basket, dropping a pen and unable to pick it up, needing help to get up from the bed, needing someone to use a washcloth to wipe my back because I can’t wet the surgery holes with water. All in all, I am functioning, at best, less than 30% of my original agility and speediness in home chores.

“I’m only 18, mom! Look at all the things I have to do for the office and for you. No one has a mom in the hospital and has to remember to bring her this and that weekly. No one has to live alone, clean the house, do the laundry and eat alone most of the days.” She screamed at me one time when I told her I was so disappointed in her for yelling at me.

Life has become intense for both of us. There were days I did yell at the top of my lungs when I was frustrated from not getting the help I needed. The steroids gave mood swings and I was having ten pills per day at the time. “You don’t respect your mother who has given you every thing all these years,” two drop of tears rolled down my cheeks. I was very hurt, “I’ve taken care of you all these years, and now helping me for a few weeks and you are unhappy!”

Then all the old hurts came back, “Ya, you always think your father is fun and I am boring. I have to take care of you during school days and he has the weekend to play with you. So I get the short end of the stick even though I give you my time and care,” I gnarled.

She barked, “Don’t you say that again” she banged the door.

Several times, I laid on the bed with silent tears. It breaks my heart to see someone I love turn against me when I most needed help.

It was her former school councilor who helped me out, “She has a lot to deal with and learn, obviously she is very stressed. She loves you very much. Let her go and have a break, take a few days holidays with her friends and let the stress go away, then she will be fine.”

I reminded myself about the poem, ‘If you love someone, let her go, if she doesn’t come back to you, she never was yours.’

Got to let the kid go.

She drew a booklet at nine year old. Page 1

   Last Page of the booklet.

    Center page of the booklet.

The last two months, between watching her smiling face at my hospital bed and angry grimace at home when I was laying down. Such trying times have also given me opportunity to see clearly that the two of us are different. I can’t mould her to me, she has been brought up by me to choose, to make decision, to speak up and to be free while I was brought up to obey the elders, follow the authority, and not to outshine any one else with my brains. I was supposed to keep quiet and bear with any injustice in my life, and just keep working hard to live my fate out.  But I have groomed her to change things around her with courage and determination.

She is nurtured in the image I dream of. But still, I have to let her be. She will be who she will be, her own woman. And I must accept it.

This realization would not have happened if not because of ASCITES!!!

By Ching Ching