My new travel blog
I've started a new blog on our travels. And the first postings will be on the Japan trip. I have yet to upload pictures - we took a whopping 860 shots plus a video of Trinity dancing in the Burberry Blue Label store!
Meanwhile, feel free to surf in read what's there. So far, I've just posted on my preparations for the trip and an account of day 1. I hope to post bit by bit so do look in from time to time and leave your comments.
The blog is called Big on Trips and the URL is http://bigontrips.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The only bright spot!
Was Gillian passing her PSLE!!!!!!!
Those who know me know I never expected her to pass, fully prepared to have her retained etc. But the girl surprised me. She passed with a Grade 2 for English and a Grade 3 for Maths. Her total aggregate was 98. Much, much better than I expected. Among the higher end for EM3 kids posted to the Normal Tech course.
On Monday after returning from Japan, we went to school to get her results. Euphoric and happy, we all then went to the two schools shortlisted for the first choice - Katong Convent and PLMGS (Paya Lebar Methodist Girls School). Both had good programmes for Normal (Tech). Both had won the Academic Value-Added awards for the Normal stream (which meant that their Normal students showed marked improvement in academic results).
KC had bowling as a CCA which Gillian liked, it was a convent school, still part of the IJ family and it was her Mama's and Aunts' alma mater. Yes mum is a KC old girl. It had the same Catholic environment that Gillian was used to. And her aggregate qualified her for it - well within the range. We considered PLMGS because it was an award-winning school, with very good programmes for the girls, it was also an all-girls school and it was nearer home, much nearer than KC. PLMGS occupied a spanking new building but Gillian did not like it. She said she did not feel "comfity". On the other hand, she seemed to like KC although it was in an older building and showed its wear and tear. The familiarity of the environment probably played a part - they also had Mother Mary's statue, a serene grotto/garden and Fr Barre's statue around, girls dressed in the same uniform etc.
So she said she preferred KC as first choice. Second choice was PLMGS, third was SJC. Fourth was Zhong Hua Sec just outside our estate, fifth was Beatty Sec a good neighbourhood school in Toa Payoh and finally Bartley Sec, which also seems to be improving, according to my bro who used to study there.
We will know only on Dec 19 if she will get her first choice, but I don't think it would be a problem.
Knowing that Gill has made it really took a big load off our shoulders. Its like we (and KH says he feels the same) wake up in the morning and we feel unsettled as if we're supposed to be worrying about something, but then we realised - gee she's made it! And a load rolls off, we feel lighter and happier. I think the awareness that she's able to make it has also done wonders for Gillian's self-esteem. And that's the biggest reward I think, although she might not realise it. She is already calling in her carrots - $100 from Uncle Paul, a High School Musical 2 CD from me + a hair make-over at Shunji Matsuo (I did promise her this if she ever made it to Sec 1), a cruise from Mama (that will happen when dad gets better), scuba lessons from Aunty Vi. In desperation before the exams, everyone seemed to promise her one thing or another if she passed, so she did and now she's calling it all in!!
Was Gillian passing her PSLE!!!!!!!
Those who know me know I never expected her to pass, fully prepared to have her retained etc. But the girl surprised me. She passed with a Grade 2 for English and a Grade 3 for Maths. Her total aggregate was 98. Much, much better than I expected. Among the higher end for EM3 kids posted to the Normal Tech course.
On Monday after returning from Japan, we went to school to get her results. Euphoric and happy, we all then went to the two schools shortlisted for the first choice - Katong Convent and PLMGS (Paya Lebar Methodist Girls School). Both had good programmes for Normal (Tech). Both had won the Academic Value-Added awards for the Normal stream (which meant that their Normal students showed marked improvement in academic results).
KC had bowling as a CCA which Gillian liked, it was a convent school, still part of the IJ family and it was her Mama's and Aunts' alma mater. Yes mum is a KC old girl. It had the same Catholic environment that Gillian was used to. And her aggregate qualified her for it - well within the range. We considered PLMGS because it was an award-winning school, with very good programmes for the girls, it was also an all-girls school and it was nearer home, much nearer than KC. PLMGS occupied a spanking new building but Gillian did not like it. She said she did not feel "comfity". On the other hand, she seemed to like KC although it was in an older building and showed its wear and tear. The familiarity of the environment probably played a part - they also had Mother Mary's statue, a serene grotto/garden and Fr Barre's statue around, girls dressed in the same uniform etc.
So she said she preferred KC as first choice. Second choice was PLMGS, third was SJC. Fourth was Zhong Hua Sec just outside our estate, fifth was Beatty Sec a good neighbourhood school in Toa Payoh and finally Bartley Sec, which also seems to be improving, according to my bro who used to study there.
We will know only on Dec 19 if she will get her first choice, but I don't think it would be a problem.
Knowing that Gill has made it really took a big load off our shoulders. Its like we (and KH says he feels the same) wake up in the morning and we feel unsettled as if we're supposed to be worrying about something, but then we realised - gee she's made it! And a load rolls off, we feel lighter and happier. I think the awareness that she's able to make it has also done wonders for Gillian's self-esteem. And that's the biggest reward I think, although she might not realise it. She is already calling in her carrots - $100 from Uncle Paul, a High School Musical 2 CD from me + a hair make-over at Shunji Matsuo (I did promise her this if she ever made it to Sec 1), a cruise from Mama (that will happen when dad gets better), scuba lessons from Aunty Vi. In desperation before the exams, everyone seemed to promise her one thing or another if she passed, so she did and now she's calling it all in!!
Updates
Stayed at the hospital till around 10.30pm last night. They kept grandma in the A&E observation room for hours. An ECG was done and it showed a heart attack so they've put her in the high dependency cardiac ward, the next wing from dad's ward. We've been tossing lame jokes about putting them both in the same room to save visiting time.
I saw her just before I left for the night. She looked tired but stable, her vital signs looked encouraging. I know it sounds weird but she looked so cute and cuddly - like the late British Queen Mum. She was very afraid of hospitals and never liked to be in one and so initially, she seemed scared and apprehensive to find herself now in hospital. We reassured her that she was okay, nothing was going to happen, no one was wheeling her into any operating theatre for any surgery. She asked for her maid and fretted about not having company so my aunt will being the maid over this morning.
I looked at her and could not believe that this soft cuddly looking woman was the angry, fearsome, mean dragon lady of the old days, who terrorised her maids no end. She'd mellowed over the past year and she'd had a long life, some parts of it very hard. I told her to just rest and go to sleep for the night and that I'd come back and see her today. I think that's just what she needs - a good long rest, not fearing, not angsting, not brooding, not thinking too much, just giving herself up to rest and to God and to be at peace with herself and with everyone around her.
I saw dad earlier in the evening before I hung around the A&E waiting room. Dad looked loads better. Better enough to snipe and grouch. Sure sign of recovery. He got a bit irritated when we went on about his leg. I'd noticed his ankle swelling up and mum agreed. We both didn't like the look of his stitches/wound, there seemed to be a reddish area radiating out from the site that seemed indicative of infection. Mum told the doctor earlier that she thought his wound might be infected and the doctor agreed. So dad is now on antibiotics. They are already giving Lasiks to lessen the amount of fluids in his lungs, which according to x-rays, look almost fluid-free. But this latest development about swelling in his ankles is unsettling. Will check with the doctor again later.
Stayed at the hospital till around 10.30pm last night. They kept grandma in the A&E observation room for hours. An ECG was done and it showed a heart attack so they've put her in the high dependency cardiac ward, the next wing from dad's ward. We've been tossing lame jokes about putting them both in the same room to save visiting time.
I saw her just before I left for the night. She looked tired but stable, her vital signs looked encouraging. I know it sounds weird but she looked so cute and cuddly - like the late British Queen Mum. She was very afraid of hospitals and never liked to be in one and so initially, she seemed scared and apprehensive to find herself now in hospital. We reassured her that she was okay, nothing was going to happen, no one was wheeling her into any operating theatre for any surgery. She asked for her maid and fretted about not having company so my aunt will being the maid over this morning.
I looked at her and could not believe that this soft cuddly looking woman was the angry, fearsome, mean dragon lady of the old days, who terrorised her maids no end. She'd mellowed over the past year and she'd had a long life, some parts of it very hard. I told her to just rest and go to sleep for the night and that I'd come back and see her today. I think that's just what she needs - a good long rest, not fearing, not angsting, not brooding, not thinking too much, just giving herself up to rest and to God and to be at peace with herself and with everyone around her.
I saw dad earlier in the evening before I hung around the A&E waiting room. Dad looked loads better. Better enough to snipe and grouch. Sure sign of recovery. He got a bit irritated when we went on about his leg. I'd noticed his ankle swelling up and mum agreed. We both didn't like the look of his stitches/wound, there seemed to be a reddish area radiating out from the site that seemed indicative of infection. Mum told the doctor earlier that she thought his wound might be infected and the doctor agreed. So dad is now on antibiotics. They are already giving Lasiks to lessen the amount of fluids in his lungs, which according to x-rays, look almost fluid-free. But this latest development about swelling in his ankles is unsettling. Will check with the doctor again later.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Dad in hospital
Its been a weird surreal two weeks and events have overtaken each other at a clipping pace. I am grateful for all the prayers, thoughts and well wishes of my friends. I have not had time to sit down and write about what happened until now. So here are the details.
Two weeks ago, mum was in Kuching attending a wedding with my sister. I got a call asking me to check on dad, he was not well apparently. When I looked in on him, he seemed fine, but I noticed his belly was really bloated. He said he had difficulty sleeping at night but told me not to fuss when I asked him to see a doctor. He said he thought it was just 'hong' and he preferred to see a Chinese doctor, which he in fact did already. This was Saturday. So I said okay, see your Chinese doctor, but better take the meds for high BP and his diabetes and if things don't improve, see a proper doctor. He said okay, okay. On Sunday morning when I brought him his breakfast, he still looked okay but I thought he seemed a bit breathless, but refused all offers and nagging to see a doctor and said he could sleep better. And dad being dad, I didn't dare push him too much.
By Monday, mum was home. I came over in the evening and noticed that he seemed to be breathless but better than the day before. I also noticed that his feet were swelling. Mum had nagged him enough to bring him to see Dr Chiam, his regular doctor. Dr Chiam suspected some form of chronic lung disease and early cardiac failure but apart from some meds, did not prescribe more since dad was due to see his doctor at TTSH on Wed. Dr Chiam also felt that dad should go to hospital, but again dad being dad, refused. Stubborn man.
But after I'd gone home on Monday night, the call came. Dad had gone to TTSH and was warded immediately. He had water in the lungs and they were suspecting some form of cardiac arrest. He was placed in the High Dependency ward.
They monitored him on and off for the next few days but when they first tried to schedule him for an angiogram, he became breathless and the heart, weakened by the first suspected heart attack, did not work well. So they abandoned the angio for the day.
By Friday, they managed to do the angiogram and the results were not good at all. Dad's arteries leading to the heart showed massive blockages - mostly 80 - 85% blocked. But the crucial main artery which supplies blood to the heart is 90% blocked. They had to insert an aortic balloon immediately to help him and this meant that a bypass is necessary, not as an elective but emergency.
Mum immediately arranged for him to be transferred to the Heart Centre at SGH. She had worked at SGH for more than 40 years and had friends there that she could rely on. The transfer was effected very quickly despite some annoying red tape on the TTSH end which I shall not go into detail here, suffice to say that I never was so boiling mad in my life with a doctor's arrogance. I stayed with mum and I was overwhelmed by how fast things moved and how urgent the situation was. To add to the dilemma, I was due to leave for Japan early the next morning. I was anguished for dad and on the other hand, for the plans that I had laid for almost a year that seemed certain to be dashed.
Once at SGH, the senior consultant took one look at the results and said, emergency surgery now. He told me and Paul bluntly: If we don't do this, your dad will die for certain. The next heart attack will almost certainly finish him off. As it is, because the blockage is so massive and the heart starved of oxygen for some time, some muscles may already be diseased. This meant that surgery would be risky. And because dad's diabetes was not well controlled, that meant that the risk of wound infection was high. Because the heart was not working properly already, the lungs were filled with water. All these were serious risks that meant that dad was, as the doctor put it, a very very sick man. If the heart did not function well during and after the bypass - and this was a real risk since many of his heart muscles were likely to be diseased or dead already thanks to the deprivation of oxygen and bloodflow, they might have to put him on a heart-lung machine indefinitely. He showed us the angio video. We saw how blood was spurting from a pinprick - that was how badly narrowed the arteries were. Honestly I don't know how dad made it this far without collapsing already. And I am grateful that he did not suffer undue pain before this - I thought heart attacks were characterised by chest pains etc, but dad never went through this.
The nurses briefed us about what would happen, that dad would be intubated for the op, that he would have tubes coming out from his chest to drain the fluid etc. But it all sort of went right over our heads in a daze. We gave personal information like emergency contact nos automatically but not really registering it at all. I think I was just focussed on how the doctor said and how grim things were.
Mum never cried but teared up. She is one strong woman. Paul and I cried. I'm sorry to say that I am ashamed of myself for being such a weak baby. At a time when I should be strong for mum, I was babbling like a baby. I knew it was touch and go and it was terrifying to see the number of doctors and nurses working on dad to prep him for the op. They were moving at such a clippingly efficient pace, there seemed no time to say anything. And I was afraid that if I never said anything, I would never have the chance to.
Dad and I have never been close. I always thought he was closer to Viv and I was more like mum. I never liked it that he was never around for me, that he paid more attention to his life than to ours as a family. I remember I once told mum quite angrily that I made sure I never married a man like dad, that the person I married would make me and our children number one always in his life. I was that resentful.
But on that day, at that time, all that flew out of the window as I watched them prep him. He looked pale but grinned bravely when I managed to squeeze past the doctors and nurses, to his bedside to snatch a few seconds to say what I had to say. I carried Owain with me and cried hard as I said: I just wanted to say thank you dad. Thanks for bringing me up. Thanks for taking care of my kids and for loving them and being their grand-dad. I held on to his one good hand hard and told him: 88. Remember? You said you'd live to 88. That's another 22 more years. I want to see you when you get out later. Okay? You're not going anywhere. I'm going to see you later when you wake up. You hear me?
He grinned and said, don't cry. I'll be okay. I'm in good hands. I nodded, yes, the very best of hands.
And then I was pushed aside as they wheeled him out of CCU and into the theatre. He was waving as he went.
So drama right? I am paying the price for this today as I write, being the family joke since everyone has already sniggered about how drama I was. Sigh.
After that, Paul, mum and I sat outside in the waiting area. Our eyes were red. We called Vi and she was already on her way in a bus from KL to Singapore - all the flights out were full. At that time I remember feeling very sad that she might not get there in time to see dad or say anything to dad.
People walking past us gave us curious looks. I was too drained to care. What is it about human drama and grief that attracts the curious anyway?
It was time to pray but I couldn't. I just couldn't. So I whipped out my handphone and did the next best thing - call for prayer support. Within minutes, I was getting messages of comfort and hope and assurances of strong prayers. I felt so grateful and cheered. As if with my friends and family all praying, things will turn out fine. I felt loads better knowing that people out there shared what I was going through and I wasn't exactly alone.
We called my dad's people. Dad did not want to tell them and for some time, dad has been estranged from most of his family. But I felt that the situation this time was serious and they had a right to know. So I called. And they spread the word. Within two hours, three of his sisters descended on us at the waiting area. Calls and SMSes were coming in from my uncle, cousins and my aunt in Shanghai. My aunts stayed with us all the way until they knew dad was out of the theatre. KH came after work with Isaac, then left to bring Isaac and Owain home before returning to the hospital to wait with us. Finally Vi came around 10pm, looking tired from the journey. But I was so relieved to see her. She had always been stronger and tougher than me and I think both mum and I needed her strength and her positiveness. She scoffed at the idea that something bad would happen in the theatre and was certain that dad would be alright.
Finally at around 10.30pm, they wheeled him out of theatre. He had numerous tubes coming out of him. But what frightened me most was that he had the waxy yellow-white complexion of a well-embalmed corpse.
Dr Chua came out to talk to us. He said dad was stable but not out of the woods yet. The first 24hrs were crucial ones. He said it was good that dad had "big blood vessels" and that the bypass went successfully for now. Dad did not have to be placed on a heart-lung machine but they would need to monitor how well his heart was working for now. If all went well they would remove the ventilator the next morning but keep him highly sedated for the next day or so.
We all trooped in one by one to see him. But he was still unconscious and hooked up to a whole bank of machines.
Mum told me to go to Japan. She said there was nothing I could do for him here. I knew that on one level, but I also remembered that I said I'd be here to see him when he woke up. And I was quite superstitious enough to fear that if I were not around, and renege on what I said, things would go bad. Mum, Viv and Paul urged me to go. They said they would pick me up early the next morning, bring me to see dad and then send me to the airport.
My head was spinning badly from the decision-making process and I had a headache from the crying, the stress and the constant volley of thoughts, pros and cons. By the time we left the hospital, it was already 11.30pm. Got home at midnight. If we were going to Japan, KH and the kids would have had to leave for the airport at 3am. Barely a couple of hours from then. Rita SMSed me asking me how? Going or not? She said that whatever decision we made would be the right one. KH had already called the travel insurance to clarify some points and we knew we would be able to claim for travel cancellation. We would lose the frequent flier points from SQ though. Finally I told KH: okay, cancel the trip. We're not going.
Tried to go to bed but could not sleep. I was straining to sleep but could only fall into restless napping, acutely conscious of the nearing of 3am. 3am came and went. I felt so anguished. I thought of the children, how disappointed they would be, of all the preparation I had done, then I thought of dad, of mum. Then at 3.30am, Owain groggily asked to nurse. And I asked him, do you want to continue sleeping or go to Tokyo? He became more alert and said:Tokyo.
So that did it. I woke up KH who was snoring away - he seemed very comfortable with the decision that was already made. I thought he was going to be angry when he woke up, because I kept changing my mind. But he wasn't. He just got up, woke all the kids up, got them dressed and ready. There was a sense of excitement in the air for them. And when I saw them, I thought I made the right decision.
They left in a flurry for the airport, sent off by hugs and kisses and cries of "See you later! In Tokyo!"
I spent the rest of the hour from 4 - 5am packing, topping up whatever needed to be packed - but still missing some stuff - like my hairbrush and my Rough Guide to Japan! Then tried to sleep for an hour. Not successful. At 6am, woke up got changed, woke Gillian and baby Trin again. Viv, Mum and Paul were at our gate at 6.30am but I still wasn't ready. At that point, I was still ready to give up and not go if dad was not looking good.
All of us headed for the hospital, hushed in the early morning. Dad was sleeping but the nurse told us he regained consciousness already. They had to sedate him heavily because he was a bit restless. He moved all four limbs, which is a good sign. His vital signs were stable, the blood pressure looked low but the nurse assured us it was normal for this stage.
I stared long at him. We couldn't go in, just watch from the glass window. He still had the waxy corpsy look. I let Gillian come in to look at him. And then we turned to go to the airport.
So why did I decide to go eventually?
1) Because I'd said what I needed to say already and I know he heard me.
2) Because I could leave mum with Viv and know that Viv will be strong for mum, surely stronger than me.
3) Because I made them all promise to call/sms me twice a day to update me on dad's condition and to not fudge the news if it was really bad.
4) Because I know dad is already receiving the best care he could and there is nothing anyone else can do for him at this point.
5) Because I looked at my kids and felt I could not let them down.
6) and finally because, selfishly so, I could not let myself down.
Its been a weird surreal two weeks and events have overtaken each other at a clipping pace. I am grateful for all the prayers, thoughts and well wishes of my friends. I have not had time to sit down and write about what happened until now. So here are the details.
Two weeks ago, mum was in Kuching attending a wedding with my sister. I got a call asking me to check on dad, he was not well apparently. When I looked in on him, he seemed fine, but I noticed his belly was really bloated. He said he had difficulty sleeping at night but told me not to fuss when I asked him to see a doctor. He said he thought it was just 'hong' and he preferred to see a Chinese doctor, which he in fact did already. This was Saturday. So I said okay, see your Chinese doctor, but better take the meds for high BP and his diabetes and if things don't improve, see a proper doctor. He said okay, okay. On Sunday morning when I brought him his breakfast, he still looked okay but I thought he seemed a bit breathless, but refused all offers and nagging to see a doctor and said he could sleep better. And dad being dad, I didn't dare push him too much.
By Monday, mum was home. I came over in the evening and noticed that he seemed to be breathless but better than the day before. I also noticed that his feet were swelling. Mum had nagged him enough to bring him to see Dr Chiam, his regular doctor. Dr Chiam suspected some form of chronic lung disease and early cardiac failure but apart from some meds, did not prescribe more since dad was due to see his doctor at TTSH on Wed. Dr Chiam also felt that dad should go to hospital, but again dad being dad, refused. Stubborn man.
But after I'd gone home on Monday night, the call came. Dad had gone to TTSH and was warded immediately. He had water in the lungs and they were suspecting some form of cardiac arrest. He was placed in the High Dependency ward.
They monitored him on and off for the next few days but when they first tried to schedule him for an angiogram, he became breathless and the heart, weakened by the first suspected heart attack, did not work well. So they abandoned the angio for the day.
By Friday, they managed to do the angiogram and the results were not good at all. Dad's arteries leading to the heart showed massive blockages - mostly 80 - 85% blocked. But the crucial main artery which supplies blood to the heart is 90% blocked. They had to insert an aortic balloon immediately to help him and this meant that a bypass is necessary, not as an elective but emergency.
Mum immediately arranged for him to be transferred to the Heart Centre at SGH. She had worked at SGH for more than 40 years and had friends there that she could rely on. The transfer was effected very quickly despite some annoying red tape on the TTSH end which I shall not go into detail here, suffice to say that I never was so boiling mad in my life with a doctor's arrogance. I stayed with mum and I was overwhelmed by how fast things moved and how urgent the situation was. To add to the dilemma, I was due to leave for Japan early the next morning. I was anguished for dad and on the other hand, for the plans that I had laid for almost a year that seemed certain to be dashed.
Once at SGH, the senior consultant took one look at the results and said, emergency surgery now. He told me and Paul bluntly: If we don't do this, your dad will die for certain. The next heart attack will almost certainly finish him off. As it is, because the blockage is so massive and the heart starved of oxygen for some time, some muscles may already be diseased. This meant that surgery would be risky. And because dad's diabetes was not well controlled, that meant that the risk of wound infection was high. Because the heart was not working properly already, the lungs were filled with water. All these were serious risks that meant that dad was, as the doctor put it, a very very sick man. If the heart did not function well during and after the bypass - and this was a real risk since many of his heart muscles were likely to be diseased or dead already thanks to the deprivation of oxygen and bloodflow, they might have to put him on a heart-lung machine indefinitely. He showed us the angio video. We saw how blood was spurting from a pinprick - that was how badly narrowed the arteries were. Honestly I don't know how dad made it this far without collapsing already. And I am grateful that he did not suffer undue pain before this - I thought heart attacks were characterised by chest pains etc, but dad never went through this.
The nurses briefed us about what would happen, that dad would be intubated for the op, that he would have tubes coming out from his chest to drain the fluid etc. But it all sort of went right over our heads in a daze. We gave personal information like emergency contact nos automatically but not really registering it at all. I think I was just focussed on how the doctor said and how grim things were.
Mum never cried but teared up. She is one strong woman. Paul and I cried. I'm sorry to say that I am ashamed of myself for being such a weak baby. At a time when I should be strong for mum, I was babbling like a baby. I knew it was touch and go and it was terrifying to see the number of doctors and nurses working on dad to prep him for the op. They were moving at such a clippingly efficient pace, there seemed no time to say anything. And I was afraid that if I never said anything, I would never have the chance to.
Dad and I have never been close. I always thought he was closer to Viv and I was more like mum. I never liked it that he was never around for me, that he paid more attention to his life than to ours as a family. I remember I once told mum quite angrily that I made sure I never married a man like dad, that the person I married would make me and our children number one always in his life. I was that resentful.
But on that day, at that time, all that flew out of the window as I watched them prep him. He looked pale but grinned bravely when I managed to squeeze past the doctors and nurses, to his bedside to snatch a few seconds to say what I had to say. I carried Owain with me and cried hard as I said: I just wanted to say thank you dad. Thanks for bringing me up. Thanks for taking care of my kids and for loving them and being their grand-dad. I held on to his one good hand hard and told him: 88. Remember? You said you'd live to 88. That's another 22 more years. I want to see you when you get out later. Okay? You're not going anywhere. I'm going to see you later when you wake up. You hear me?
He grinned and said, don't cry. I'll be okay. I'm in good hands. I nodded, yes, the very best of hands.
And then I was pushed aside as they wheeled him out of CCU and into the theatre. He was waving as he went.
So drama right? I am paying the price for this today as I write, being the family joke since everyone has already sniggered about how drama I was. Sigh.
After that, Paul, mum and I sat outside in the waiting area. Our eyes were red. We called Vi and she was already on her way in a bus from KL to Singapore - all the flights out were full. At that time I remember feeling very sad that she might not get there in time to see dad or say anything to dad.
People walking past us gave us curious looks. I was too drained to care. What is it about human drama and grief that attracts the curious anyway?
It was time to pray but I couldn't. I just couldn't. So I whipped out my handphone and did the next best thing - call for prayer support. Within minutes, I was getting messages of comfort and hope and assurances of strong prayers. I felt so grateful and cheered. As if with my friends and family all praying, things will turn out fine. I felt loads better knowing that people out there shared what I was going through and I wasn't exactly alone.
We called my dad's people. Dad did not want to tell them and for some time, dad has been estranged from most of his family. But I felt that the situation this time was serious and they had a right to know. So I called. And they spread the word. Within two hours, three of his sisters descended on us at the waiting area. Calls and SMSes were coming in from my uncle, cousins and my aunt in Shanghai. My aunts stayed with us all the way until they knew dad was out of the theatre. KH came after work with Isaac, then left to bring Isaac and Owain home before returning to the hospital to wait with us. Finally Vi came around 10pm, looking tired from the journey. But I was so relieved to see her. She had always been stronger and tougher than me and I think both mum and I needed her strength and her positiveness. She scoffed at the idea that something bad would happen in the theatre and was certain that dad would be alright.
Finally at around 10.30pm, they wheeled him out of theatre. He had numerous tubes coming out of him. But what frightened me most was that he had the waxy yellow-white complexion of a well-embalmed corpse.
Dr Chua came out to talk to us. He said dad was stable but not out of the woods yet. The first 24hrs were crucial ones. He said it was good that dad had "big blood vessels" and that the bypass went successfully for now. Dad did not have to be placed on a heart-lung machine but they would need to monitor how well his heart was working for now. If all went well they would remove the ventilator the next morning but keep him highly sedated for the next day or so.
We all trooped in one by one to see him. But he was still unconscious and hooked up to a whole bank of machines.
Mum told me to go to Japan. She said there was nothing I could do for him here. I knew that on one level, but I also remembered that I said I'd be here to see him when he woke up. And I was quite superstitious enough to fear that if I were not around, and renege on what I said, things would go bad. Mum, Viv and Paul urged me to go. They said they would pick me up early the next morning, bring me to see dad and then send me to the airport.
My head was spinning badly from the decision-making process and I had a headache from the crying, the stress and the constant volley of thoughts, pros and cons. By the time we left the hospital, it was already 11.30pm. Got home at midnight. If we were going to Japan, KH and the kids would have had to leave for the airport at 3am. Barely a couple of hours from then. Rita SMSed me asking me how? Going or not? She said that whatever decision we made would be the right one. KH had already called the travel insurance to clarify some points and we knew we would be able to claim for travel cancellation. We would lose the frequent flier points from SQ though. Finally I told KH: okay, cancel the trip. We're not going.
Tried to go to bed but could not sleep. I was straining to sleep but could only fall into restless napping, acutely conscious of the nearing of 3am. 3am came and went. I felt so anguished. I thought of the children, how disappointed they would be, of all the preparation I had done, then I thought of dad, of mum. Then at 3.30am, Owain groggily asked to nurse. And I asked him, do you want to continue sleeping or go to Tokyo? He became more alert and said:Tokyo.
So that did it. I woke up KH who was snoring away - he seemed very comfortable with the decision that was already made. I thought he was going to be angry when he woke up, because I kept changing my mind. But he wasn't. He just got up, woke all the kids up, got them dressed and ready. There was a sense of excitement in the air for them. And when I saw them, I thought I made the right decision.
They left in a flurry for the airport, sent off by hugs and kisses and cries of "See you later! In Tokyo!"
I spent the rest of the hour from 4 - 5am packing, topping up whatever needed to be packed - but still missing some stuff - like my hairbrush and my Rough Guide to Japan! Then tried to sleep for an hour. Not successful. At 6am, woke up got changed, woke Gillian and baby Trin again. Viv, Mum and Paul were at our gate at 6.30am but I still wasn't ready. At that point, I was still ready to give up and not go if dad was not looking good.
All of us headed for the hospital, hushed in the early morning. Dad was sleeping but the nurse told us he regained consciousness already. They had to sedate him heavily because he was a bit restless. He moved all four limbs, which is a good sign. His vital signs were stable, the blood pressure looked low but the nurse assured us it was normal for this stage.
I stared long at him. We couldn't go in, just watch from the glass window. He still had the waxy corpsy look. I let Gillian come in to look at him. And then we turned to go to the airport.
So why did I decide to go eventually?
1) Because I'd said what I needed to say already and I know he heard me.
2) Because I could leave mum with Viv and know that Viv will be strong for mum, surely stronger than me.
3) Because I made them all promise to call/sms me twice a day to update me on dad's condition and to not fudge the news if it was really bad.
4) Because I know dad is already receiving the best care he could and there is nothing anyone else can do for him at this point.
5) Because I looked at my kids and felt I could not let them down.
6) and finally because, selfishly so, I could not let myself down.
Everything that could go wrong, can and has!
First it was dad and now, my grandma. I just got news that she 'fell' and her leg broke. This is an 84-year-old woman who has been more or less wheel-chair bound for the past two years or so. Her right leg has been bent at a very awkward angle and she has been unable to walk, hence she was in a wheelchair for some time.
I just got word that her bad leg sort of gave way under her as she was moving from the wheelchair to I-dunno-where (bed? bathroom? the details are not clear at this point) and she collapsed into an awkward squat. But because her bones are so brittle at her age, they are now worried that her hips and ribs may also have been fractured in the process. Cardiac arrest is a real risk when this sort of thing happens to someone her age.
Poor po-po.
She brought me up since I was a baby. She's been one feisty dragon lady but she has mellowed over the past year or so. I'm going to hospital to see her now. She's probably still in the A&E. This is SGH and grimly convenient since dad is also still warded in the high dependency cardiac ward there.
Why do these things happen all at one go?
I feel so sorry for my mum. She's had a hard two weeks or so - with dad's hospitalisation, emergency surgery. She's been literally living at the hospital with him, leaving him only to go home for change of clothes and some 'rest' (my bro says she could not rest well at home, always fretting and anxious to go back to the hospital). First dad, now po-po, her mother. I can't imagine the stress mum is going through right now.
First it was dad and now, my grandma. I just got news that she 'fell' and her leg broke. This is an 84-year-old woman who has been more or less wheel-chair bound for the past two years or so. Her right leg has been bent at a very awkward angle and she has been unable to walk, hence she was in a wheelchair for some time.
I just got word that her bad leg sort of gave way under her as she was moving from the wheelchair to I-dunno-where (bed? bathroom? the details are not clear at this point) and she collapsed into an awkward squat. But because her bones are so brittle at her age, they are now worried that her hips and ribs may also have been fractured in the process. Cardiac arrest is a real risk when this sort of thing happens to someone her age.
Poor po-po.
She brought me up since I was a baby. She's been one feisty dragon lady but she has mellowed over the past year or so. I'm going to hospital to see her now. She's probably still in the A&E. This is SGH and grimly convenient since dad is also still warded in the high dependency cardiac ward there.
Why do these things happen all at one go?
I feel so sorry for my mum. She's had a hard two weeks or so - with dad's hospitalisation, emergency surgery. She's been literally living at the hospital with him, leaving him only to go home for change of clothes and some 'rest' (my bro says she could not rest well at home, always fretting and anxious to go back to the hospital). First dad, now po-po, her mother. I can't imagine the stress mum is going through right now.
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