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Yes, yes, yes.... the CNY madness is finally over! At least for me la. There're about 5 more days before Chap Goh Mei arrives to mark the end of the celebrations for the year of the Golden Boar, but I am already back at work. Things are slow of course, which is a blessing coz my mom still needs a lot of attention.
Just yesterday I spent the entire morning and afternoon driving her to Assunta again to get her tests done. Turned out she has urinary tract infection and we are still awaiting the results of her tumour marker. By the way, the prices in private hospitals defy the law of gravity - just urine and blood tests made us poorer by RM420!
While waiting for her results, I drove to the bank and of course, with the wonderful town planning system in State PJ, there was not a single parking bay available. Circled the area for 45 minutes before finally landing on an empty lot behind a row of shops. Went straight to the customer service centre in the bank - was told to wait to be served while 2 new accounts were being opened. I filled out a form and handed it over to the bank staff, who told me I should hand over my passbook as well. Oh darn, the thing is in my car. At this time a crowd was swelling around the counter. So I told the staff to keep my line while I go bring the passbook. She said ok.
When I returned to the counter I was told there was now an additional 2 more new accounts, courtesy of the lady who was behind me in the line earlier. So now I hadda wait for 4 new accounts to be opened before I could be served. I c0mplied since I did not want to kick up a fuss.. 40 minutes of standing later, I was about to be served when another lady stepped up to the counter and asked the staff, "hey, can you serve me first, I am only going to collect my chequebook..." The bank staff was about to attend to her request, when I firmly demanded to be served. And when I put up an angry front, I got served.
The wheel that makes the most noise gets the grease.
Such a sad state of affairs...
I have four. One biological, two adopted and One starts with a capital F. When I was 29 I learnt that I had problems relating to #4, simply because I had a distorted perception of how a father should be.
I was unable to trust God, nor any male authority figure. It had been a prevailing condition throughout my life and I was unable to change it. It was an intensely heartbreaking discovery, as it meant amongst other things, I had arrived at an impasse in my relationship with God.
During the months that followed, I was a walking zombie - the lingering effect of being shaken to the core. I ate, slept and went about my business in a perpetual daze, not caring (unable to care) much what happened to myself nor those around me. This revelation left me injured and totally vulnerable.
Memory was kinder in the years that passed. I soon learnt that time can somewhat numb the pain, though not fully eradicating it. I realised that God has placed godly adopted fathers in my life, showing me through tangible means that His Fatherhood is different. There were other godly men and husbands which were strewn along my path too, slowly wiping out the distortion, giving life and newness to what was once maimed and wanting.
Then God brought me home - charged with this new awareness - to face my dysfunctional family. It is not the easiest thing to do, but then we were not promised ease of life and comfort. In fact, just the opposite is to be expected; for those who aspire to live a godly life should be prepared for persecution (2 Tim 3:12).
My perception of Fatherhood is constantly being challenged, namely because I live in an environment which demands it. I see the disparity between what I know to be truth and what I experience. And as the saying goes, experience is a powerful teacher.
Living between the tension.
Obedience is better than sacrifice or any other rational excuses.
If I ever wanted to know how a foreign maid feels in a Malaysian household, I would have asked our former maid Asti. But nope, no chance of that ever happening now since she's gone, and every other able-bodied female in my house is knocked out by this vicious viral fever... I am left alone to tackle all the household chores. How wonderful.
So every morning I wake up to clean and prepare food for my fever-ridden niece, my sick family, and the other members of my family who aren't sick. Then in the blink of an eye the afternoon would be upon us and there's lunch to prepare. All too soon, dinner will arrive. Cleaning, marketing, cooking, nanny-ing, driving on errands.
I am tired. I am really tired.
I salute those housewives who juggle all these and still maintain their sanity, of which I am precariously hanging on thin shreds (and I am not even a housewife). But after all that drudge and crap, there's this relief... joy... when everyone comes home at night and gathers and eat. The effort of the day just seem to melt away.
Oh dear, I sure hope I am not losing it.
This is such a weird day.
Woke up early to check my mom outta hospital. Still groogy after yesterday's fever antibiotics. Arrived hospital at 9am-ish. Walked to the ward while talking on the phone. Before I knew it, I stepped on a small patch of water on the floor, slipped and fell on my back. The nurses rushed to me. They hoisted me up and put me on my mom's bed nearby. The doctor arrived and asked me if I needed attention. The ward sister came to take down my details (in case I needed hospitalisation).
OK, enough embarassment already.
So I shoo-shoo-ed them away (by telling them I was perfectly fine) and after a while, proceeded to a quick brekkie at the cafeteria. Had a slice of marble cake, one milk tea and one Milo. Mom called and said she would be able to check out the same day.
Yay!!!!
BUT we hadda wait. OK, I can wait. One hour passed, two hours... and meanwhile, I was developing symptoms of having a seizure attack. Not good. Not good at all.
I went back to ward nurse to ask for a bed. She said the hospital beds were full but there're some seats at the corridor I can use, or else there's also a wheeled stretcher without brakes. I opted for seats. When I saw those single rattan chairs, I groaned. The're no way I can lie comfortably on those.
So I cramped myself in feotal position and snugged into two single chairs facing each other. It was really awkward and I was uncomfortable, but it was better than no lie-down place at all. I switched positions several times but they were all equally uncomfortable. Meanwhile, my phone kept ringing.
I don't know how but I managed to get some sleep. Too soon, my phone rang again, and it was my mom saying it is time to pay and check out of the hospital. After some ding donging here and there, we finally checked mom out at 3pm, six hours after I had arrived at the hospital.
I was too weak to drive, and WL hadda bring us all home. Left my car in the hospital carpark, and I went home to cook porridge for my mom and myself, before taking my long overdue fever medicine and zonking off till 6.30pm. Then later I hadda retrieve my car from the carpark (but not before dropping by to visit Mrs Tan, the 98-year-old stroke victim from my mom's ward). Mrs Tan's daughter was with her, and she even agreed when I suggested to pray for her. Good, good, good. I may visit her some more in the near future.
It was a visitors' party at my mom's hospital room. First there were LP and my dad, followed in quick succession by my aunt and uncle, then my cell hosts, and then my mom's cell members before finally, my cell members came and took me out for dinner.
In between there was this very stimulating conversation going on between the patient in the next bed and I. She was almost in tears when I told her about God's provision in my life. Later I shared Christ with the patient in the far end of the room. She is 96, her lungs are hardened and she practically lays on bed as good as a vegetable but I spoke to her in Mandarin anyway. She looked longingly at me, her eyes welling up with tears. She tried to move her arms every time I touched her (I noticed that her relatives would visit, shout at her and not even touch her). I asked her to repeat the sinners' prayer with me even though she can only say it in her heart.
There is so much hope to be given to a waiting world.
My mother's hospitalisation may be seen as a mishap to some, but for those who perceive, there has never been a better opportunity to share the Gospel.
Today's Reading : Romans 1:16-17
I am terrified of frogs. Even slaughtered ones. Being Chinese, it is to my embarassment that I have only hesitantly nibbled at the famous Frog Legs with Ginger and Spring Onion dish. And even after that I felt like fumigating my mouth for 2 weeks.
The most horrying experience I had with frogs was when one hopped and latched itself on my calf while I was walking on campus in Hawaii. I screamed and screamed in terror, ran and flagged helplessly. It was such a traumatic experience I don't even remember how the critter finally un-stuck itself.
I hate frogs. Dead or alive.
So when I hadda buy frogmeat in the market today to double-boil it for my hospitalised mom, I made sure I was 2 feet away from the cages filled with live frogs. I quickly made my purchase. The butcher was laughing away at me whilst she grabbed one fat belching frog, clubbed it senseless and continued with the slaughter.
I did not know how my face looked like at that moment, but the butcher's expression while looking at me was one of glee, maybe she was somewhat tickled at the tortured face of a reluctant buyer.
I took home three headless, skinless and webless frogs. The blood was still on them. Cleaned the carcasses up using a pair of disposable chopsticks and a cleaver. My brother and dad were not much help, they just stood and laughed at my fear of contact with dead amphibians. After much effort, one-and-a-half frog(s) ended up in the crockpot with slices of really bitter bittergourd.
I pity my mom who's gonna drink that.
It is also confirmed that I will be staying with my mom at the hospital tonight. Just got back home to pack a few things and head straight for Assunta again. Mom's got a single room and there's an extra armchair-bed for me. Tomorrow I gotta head for the market really early to get er....
1. Frog meat
2. Baby bittergourd
This is so that I can go home and double boil them stuff with a bowl of water and serve them to (poor old) mom! Apparently this concoction worked wonders on my friend's friend.
Nat tested negative for dengue. Phew... at least her parents can sleep soundly tonight.
It is confirmed. My mom contracted dengue. Her platlet level is still ok, at 205 per 1000, and the GP says to wait for further tests. But I am checking her into the hospital tonight. At her age, anything can happen. She's worried sick, and rightly so I guess.
Right now we are packing her stuff for the stay. I will prob stay in with her for the night, depending on circumstances. Tomorrow I will be making this herb concoction which is supposedly good for her immune system.
I had better brace myself for the home - hospital - market - home circuit.
Nat is also having fever for the past 5 days. Now her parents are concerned it may be dengue as well. Heck, I am also feeling under the weather the past coupla days...
Just a wild thought - if all of us have dengue it may be easier as we would all be admitted at the same time and can still see each other....
Yeah, right.
Dengue. The word escaped from my mom's mouth as she got into the car to break the news to me. OK, so it's just suspected dengue since she had non-abating fever for 5 days running even with antibiotic intakes. But the doctor wasn't taking chances, especially since she's already 70.
She's worried, about her health, hospital stays, bills, household matters, etc. My mom's a constant worrier, even when she's completely well. I try to un-worry her. In any case, the results will only be known in about 2 hours' time.
This news could not have come at a worse time. Already I am struggling "being at multiple crossroads" in my life, and this process usually saps all the energy outta me.
Today's Reading: Ps 91
Went for the OM meeting and I probably never felt so ...disappointed... in a long time. Because my plans and expectations were not met. Frustrated because whilst I had "put my life on hold" all these years in view of going out again, I find the doors still firmly shut. Angry because nothing is going the way I hoped it would.
Nat threw a tantrum again today, because she wasn't allowed to go out with her mom to the shops. She cried and cried and when that didn't work, she turned around and demanded to have 'substitutes' in place of the thing she was denied. And to state a fact, everyone knows my niece takes after me very closely in temperament. She's definitely a female Chan.
I see a mirror image of myself as I observe her nonsense. Only difference is that we live 30 years apart.
I was so disturbed yesterday. I could not believe God would close the doors. Of course I knew He must have a better plan, a more important job for me here, or mebbe I am just not the person for that "mission job" out there. But honestly, I find it hard to accept that in His time and in His way He will reveal. Still I could not understand why, I could not wait, I wanted an explanation... and I demanded a 'substitute' where I spelt out the terms.
What cheek.
And I wonder why God doesn't speak to me? Why He is silent?
Surrender is so hard for the strong-willed.
Today's reading: Gen 32:22 - 32
