The Big Mango V.S. Uncle Sam

Thai expat living in California, looking back and comparing life in Thailand and the U.S.
Permalink : http://blog.nationmultimedia.com/oakmonster

Sunday , August 12 , 2007

Death Becomes Her

Posted by OakMonster , Reader : 1349 , 10:15:06 | Category : Ranting Away Family Matters

ETA: I just realized that this is posted on Thailand's Mother's Day, August 12. I guess my instinct was telling me something... Well, I'm 4 posts into the Nation Blog. I think I'll go ahead and unload my 200 lbs. gorilla here. (No...not that cute little capuchin monkey on my head.) It's going to come up eventually. My mom is in Thailand, lying in a hospital bed, dying of cancer. There. Now that's out. 2 years ago, my mother had an operation to remove a golf ball sized tumor from her lung. It was cancer. She doesn't smoke. The surgeon proclaimed that he got all of the cancer out of her (along with almost half of her lung) and therefore she did not need chemotherapy. The oncologist protested, but being the younger doctor, he had to "respect the elders" and agreed with the surgeon. America is no shining example of healthcare systems, but as far as I know, not following up a cancer surgery with a chemotherapy or radiation is almost unheard of. (That's right. I am taking out my anger on this surgeon. I don't even know his name. And frankly, I don't want to know.) And what is this business of respecting your elders? You are the oncologist, not him. You don't tell him how to do surgery. But of course, being the junior doctor, you can't possibly speak up. Someone's life is at stake, but apparently people's lives come and go and you first need to save your career. I understand. Anyway, I digress. So the cancer went to my mom's brain. They radiated. It went to her liver. They finally gave her chemotherapy. A day late, a buck short and the darn thing caused a stroke that paralyze my mom's left side. Back on oral chemo at a ridiculously high price per pills for almost another year. She was moved back to our house with full time caregiver. It seems things were looking okay there for a little while. About 6 months ago, she stopped trying to chew anything and eventually stopped swallowing altogether. We found out that the spot returned to her liver about 3 months ago and there is absolutely nothing else to be done. Her strength was gone and once she was able to take a few steps for exercise, now she is completely bedridden. She had stopped talking about 2 months ago and nobody knows why. And I was summoned home. Mom went back to the hospital the day I arrived in Bangkok about a month ago and she is still there. The doctor gave us a few more months. I don't know who has it worse. The rest of my family over there is seeing her everyday and watch her deteriorate. And here's me, far away from all the action but the guilt of not being there makes me feel a lot worse than when I was there at her bedside. How everyone deals with the situations is also different. It's going to sound horrible, but I wish this could end sooner than later. Mom is just shell of herself and it is painful to watch...and I'm not even actually watching. Her friends and some family members are holding on that she will continue to do okay and keep up the fight. And of course, being Thai, nobody is going to jinx you. People keep telling you, "Oh, she'll be alright. She'll get better soon, you'll see." And "Oh, don't go about it like she's going to die. That's bad luck." No. YOU see. She's not getting better. She's dying. Talking about her death is not going to make her come back to life. There is no hope here unless Jesus comes down from the heavens and performs a miracle. There isn't anything anyone can do. She. Is. Dying. Why are we so afraid when it is so certain? Why would we wish her another day of pain, indignity, and suffering? Are we being positive for her sake or ours because we don't want to face the music. The funeral march. The world without her. My world as I knew it crumbled many months ago when I called home a few months ago to talk into a phone with no reply. I could barely hear her breathing into the phone. So I talked for just a minute and had to hung up before my voice could betray me. Now I'm just sifting through the rubbles, looking for good things to hold on to. She is in every piece that was the world I knew and I want to hold on to it all. I want to hold on but every piece cuts into my soul. The guilt. The pain. The emptiness. If I don't start letting go, it'll kill me. So I start to let go earlier than my culture thinks I should. I start to ponder about the aftermath and have to keep it all to myself because nobody else is going to even give it a thought. My mother is dying but to think of her as such is still something I was told not to do contrary to what I have been taught in Buddhism all my life. Death is a part of life. You are born. You grow old. You get sick. You die. We were taught to be at peace with our life's cycle. To accept it when it comes. To not be afraid as it is the beginning of yet another cycle of life. But when it comes to our love one's undeniable fate, we are supposed to throw all of that out the window and pin our hopes on her fading life. I am standing between the cultural divide as my mom waits for her last breath. My mother is dying. And I'm probably not going to be there when it happens. Two days late, and a buck short.

ETA: I just realized that this is posted on Thailand's Mother's Day, August 12. I guess my instinct was telling me something...

Well, I'm 4 posts into the Nation Blog. I think I'll go ahead and unload my 200 lbs. gorilla here. (No...not that cute little capuchin monkey on my head.) It's going to come up eventually.

My mom is in Thailand, lying in a hospital bed, dying of cancer.

There. Now that's out.

2 years ago, my mother had an operation to remove a golf ball sized tumor from her lung. It was cancer. She doesn't smoke.

The surgeon proclaimed that he got all of the cancer out of her (along with almost half of her lung) and therefore she did not need chemotherapy. The oncologist protested, but being the younger doctor, he had to "respect the elders" and agreed with the surgeon.

America is no shining example of healthcare systems, but as far as I know, not following up a cancer surgery with a chemotherapy or radiation is almost unheard of. (That's right. I am taking out my anger on this surgeon. I don't even know his name. And frankly, I don't want to know.)

And what is this business of respecting your elders? You are the oncologist, not him. You don't tell him how to do surgery. But of course, being the junior doctor, you can't possibly speak up. Someone's life is at stake, but apparently people's lives come and go and you first need to save your career. I understand. Anyway, I digress.

So the cancer went to my mom's brain. They radiated. It went to her liver. They finally gave her chemotherapy. A day late, a buck short and the darn thing caused a stroke that paralyze my mom's left side. Back on oral chemo at a ridiculously high price per pills for almost another year. She was moved back to our house with full time caregiver. It seems things were looking okay there for a little while.

About 6 months ago, she stopped trying to chew anything and eventually stopped swallowing altogether. We found out that the spot returned to her liver about 3 months ago and there is absolutely nothing else to be done. Her strength was gone and once she was able to take a few steps for exercise, now she is completely bedridden. She had stopped talking about 2 months ago and nobody knows why. And I was summoned home.

Mom went back to the hospital the day I arrived in Bangkok about a month ago and she is still there. The doctor gave us a few more months.

I don't know who has it worse. The rest of my family over there is seeing her everyday and watch her deteriorate. And here's me, far away from all the action but the guilt of not being there makes me feel a lot worse than when I was there at her bedside.

How everyone deals with the situations is also different. It's going to sound horrible, but I wish this could end sooner than later. Mom is just shell of herself and it is painful to watch...and I'm not even actually watching. Her friends and some family members are holding on that she will continue to do okay and keep up the fight.

And of course, being Thai, nobody is going to jinx you. People keep telling you, "Oh, she'll be alright. She'll get better soon, you'll see." And "Oh, don't go about it like she's going to die. That's bad luck."

No. YOU see. She's not getting better. She's dying. Talking about her death is not going to make her come back to life. There is no hope here unless Jesus comes down from the heavens and performs a miracle. There isn't anything anyone can do.

She. Is. Dying.

Why are we so afraid when it is so certain? Why would we wish her another day of pain, indignity, and suffering? Are we being positive for her sake or ours because we don't want to face the music. The funeral march. The world without her.

My world as I knew it crumbled many months ago when I called home a few months ago to talk into a phone with no reply. I could barely hear her breathing into the phone. So I talked for just a minute and had to hung up before my voice could betray me. Now I'm just sifting through the rubbles, looking for good things to hold on to. She is in every piece that was the world I knew and I want to hold on to it all. I want to hold on but every piece cuts into my soul. The guilt. The pain. The emptiness. If I don't start letting go, it'll kill me.

So I start to let go earlier than my culture thinks I should. I start to ponder about the aftermath and have to keep it all to myself because nobody else is going to even give it a thought. My mother is dying but to think of her as such is still something I was told not to do contrary to what I have been taught in Buddhism all my life.

Death is a part of life. You are born. You grow old. You get sick. You die. We were taught to be at peace with our life's cycle. To accept it when it comes. To not be afraid as it is the beginning of yet another cycle of life. But when it comes to our love one's undeniable fate, we are supposed to throw all of that out the window and pin our hopes on her fading life.

I am standing between the cultural divide as my mom waits for her last breath.

My mother is dying. And I'm probably not going to be there when it happens.

Two days late, and a buck short.

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comment 7
GGrass date : 14/08/2007 time : 09.57
http://blog.nationmultimedia.com/GGrass

oakmonster: ........

i'm so sorry about your mom... i can't even imagine myself in your shoes... and although i wish your mom well, i wish YOU well more.

i don't want to steal the blog by telling my story (i always tend to talk about myself all the time...), but i guess by sharing experiences, we can understand each other better...

death is inevitable. but the sorrow is.

my dad had a brain surgery after a vein in his head popped. i was right there when he dropped like stone and became stiff like log. i called the ambulance and after 3 different hospitals and 12 hours later, my dad went into surgery.

in this 12 hours, i learned a lot and i became so much more mature.... and i learned something from it.

The DEAD is NOT as important as the LIVING.

while i cried for my dad on the inside, i was cheering up my mom and my brothers. it took me less than 2 hours to stop crying and start smiling. i thought while it is a pity for my dad, it was even worse for my mom. so i HAD to 'let go' of my dad, so that others may hold on.

and i don't feel a bit guilty about it.

so, oakmonster, there's nothing to feel guilty about, tough girl!

PS: my dad was tougher than i thought. he's fully recovered, against all the odds, and he's planning to ride his bicycle to Chiang Mai from BKK.

another PS: i do hope i could cheer you up more...

comment 6
natee date : 14/08/2007 time : 06.05
http://blog.nationmultimedia.com/natee

I can't imagine how words can help here, but I just had to write to wish the best for your mom, you and your family, OakMonster.

comment 5
Ian date : 14/08/2007 time : 03.08
http://blog.nationmultimedia.com/anterian36

A slight digression;-)
As one gets older it is not so much the inevitability of death which is the problem as the loss of physical youth, the fact that in our heads we are still young but in our bodies we are increasingly infirm. At some point the balance may tip and life is no longer enjoyable, you see many old people like this.
The secret of a long, happy and fulfilling life is to have so many interests and activities that even if 90% of them eventually become no longer possible the remaining ones can keep you happy and occupied.
Just my thought for the day:-)

comment 4
OakMonster date : 13/08/2007 time : 11.38
http://blog.nationmultimedia.com/oakmonster
Want more? Brace yourself. :: www.OakMonster.com

Gang, Thanks for your kind words.

Veen, thank you for sharing your story. And yes, Happy Mother's Day to you as well.

Ian, trust me, I wish we could have a wake for my mother instead of a funeral. I went to one a few months ago. My husband's best friend's mom passed away after a long battle, much like my mother. Thai cultures don't seem to go for the happy memories but mourning the dead. Then again, my mom is more of a traditionalist. She would want a proper Thai funeral.

Pond, once again, my friend. Thank you for your support. And I know you do understand how it is. Isn't it bizarre that for our age group, just a few years ago, we were going to weddings and now friends are having babies. And suddenly, the older folks you know, parents included, are dying, way too soon.

comment 3
Pondering date : 13/08/2007 time : 06.21
http://blog.nationmultimedia.com/pondering

Guilt is one of those every few things you can't help, but feel. I understand your feelings deeply. Living far away from family members, there are so many things you can do, but to be there at the right time.

I agree with what Ian has said, and I'D like to add a little more. People see death as remorse and the end of life an. That's very understandable. But personally, I believe you can allow grief to get to you for a certain time, but should not let it get a hold of you and your remaining of life. Death does not have to be the painful ending, it can also be a celebration of the end. When loved ones are passing away, no man can be rejoice over the lost one. But to think of it as in the loved one's shoes, they definitely do not wish you to be sad or in grief forever. They'd love to see you happy.

As in your mother's sickness, I'm so sorry to hear that things get worse. I wish you stay strong.

comment 2
Ian date : 12/08/2007 time : 18.05
http://blog.nationmultimedia.com/anterian36

Obviously at my age of 71 I have watched all of my previous generation die, in fact two generations, my parents and my grandparents. Whilst I was present at their end and watched them decline rapidly over the last few months of their lives, this is not how I remember them. Whenever I think back on any of them in my mind they are in their prime, they are not ill or bedridden, and this is how I am glad to remember them.
In Celtic cultures we don't mourn when someone dies, we hold a "wake", a party to celebrate their life, not their death. Music, dancing, alcohol and festivities.
In death we survive in people's memories, let those memories be good and joyfull.

comment 1
veen date : 12/08/2007 time : 13.48
http://blog.nationmultimedia.com/veen

OakMonster, I don't know what to say. You can pray for your mom. I used to do that when I was young. I had my mom till the age of 12 as she died of kidney failure. But I've always remembered and sweet old times we had. Thanks for writing this on Mother's Day. Happy Mother's Day to you.

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