Here's the details for my dad's memorial service. In case you wanted to send flowers, this is the place.
MEMORIAL SERVICE
for Jason T. Liu
Saturday, Aug. 25, 2007
11:00 a.m.
Woodside/Santa Cruz Room
@ the Lifemark Center (new administration building)
Skylawn Memorial Park
Highway 92 at Skyline Boulevard
P.O. Box 5070
San Mateo, CA 94402
650-349-4411 (24-hour service)
DIRECTIONS:
(From San Francisco) Take 101 South to 92 West (towards Half Moon Bay). You will pass Highway 280 and the road will begin going up a hill. You will see a turnoff a few miles ahead at the top of the hill for Skylawn Memorial Park. Turn off and follow the signs to the Lifemark Center (new main administration building). Park in the parking lot next to the Lifemark Center.
(From San Jose) Take 101 North to 92 West (towards Half Moon Bay). You will pass Highway 280 and the road will begin going up a hill. You will see a turnoff a few miles ahead at the top of the hill for Skylawn Memorial Park. Turn off and follow the signs to the Lifemark Center (new main administration building). Park in the parking lot next to the Lifemark Center.
WHEN YOU GET THERE:
Please proceed to the Woodside/Portola room inside the Lifemark Center. If you can't find it, tell the receptionist that you are here for Jason Liu's funeral. She will take you to the right chapel.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Skylawn Memorial Park
I think my brother has been really busy making arrangements and so he might have forgotten about the blog. I'm worried that we haven't been able to reach everyone, although I believe word has spread rather quickly about when the service will be.
We are planning to have the San Francisco ceremony for Dad on Saturday, August 25th, 2007 at Skylawn Memorial Park. I believe the ceremony will take place sometime during the hours of 11:00am - 1:00pm. My father will be placed in Bai Ling Yuan VI.
http://www.lifemarkgroup.com/san_mateo/index.html
When I get further details I will post them as soon as possible.
-Laura
We are planning to have the San Francisco ceremony for Dad on Saturday, August 25th, 2007 at Skylawn Memorial Park. I believe the ceremony will take place sometime during the hours of 11:00am - 1:00pm. My father will be placed in Bai Ling Yuan VI.
http://www.lifemarkgroup.com/san_mateo/index.html
When I get further details I will post them as soon as possible.
-Laura
Monday, May 21, 2007
Funeral Arrangements Set
We've finalized the details for my dad's funeral. It took a while because of we had to consult a fortune teller to see if it was a good day for the family, plus check on availability for the funeral home. Some of the dates were not available.
Here are the details:
Friday, May 25, 2007
11:30 a.m. Service
Huai En Ting (Hall)
Second Taipei City Mortuary
#330 Xing Hai Lu, Section 3
Taipei, Taiwan
Our plan is to have a funeral service in Taipei and have his remains cremated. In June, we plan on bringing my father's ashes to the San Francisco Bay Area where we hope to hold an additional service for him before burial. My dad had wished to be buried near his mother at Skylawn Cemetery.
I had thought about bringing him to Shanghai prior to San Francisco, as it was his new home and he has many friends there. I know he had wanted to return to Shanghai as well. However the logistics of doing this may be difficult. Just preparing the paperwork for bringing him back to the U.S. is an ordeal. I never realized how much distrust the American government has, even for its own citizens - as we have to prove that we are his relatives, prepare documents in English, prepare customs documents, etc.
Thanks everyone for your thoughts, prayers and phone calls. Your support has helped the family and my mom, especially, through these difficult times.
Here are the details:
Friday, May 25, 2007
11:30 a.m. Service
Huai En Ting (Hall)
Second Taipei City Mortuary
#330 Xing Hai Lu, Section 3
Taipei, Taiwan
Our plan is to have a funeral service in Taipei and have his remains cremated. In June, we plan on bringing my father's ashes to the San Francisco Bay Area where we hope to hold an additional service for him before burial. My dad had wished to be buried near his mother at Skylawn Cemetery.
I had thought about bringing him to Shanghai prior to San Francisco, as it was his new home and he has many friends there. I know he had wanted to return to Shanghai as well. However the logistics of doing this may be difficult. Just preparing the paperwork for bringing him back to the U.S. is an ordeal. I never realized how much distrust the American government has, even for its own citizens - as we have to prove that we are his relatives, prepare documents in English, prepare customs documents, etc.
Thanks everyone for your thoughts, prayers and phone calls. Your support has helped the family and my mom, especially, through these difficult times.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Fang Xin
Last night, the hospital staff ran an X-ray to see if my dad had pneumonia. My dad's breathing has gotten heavier and it sounded like there was some congestion in his chest.
My aunts had a hard time because they were leaving. This would be their last time seeing my dad. They tried really hard not to cry in front of him.
My second aunt from San Jose helped me meet with several funeral services today. My Chinese isn't good enough to do it alone and my mom was in no shape at all. So my aunt and I took up the responsibility. We had heard that if we didn't plan, the funeral service companies would jack up the prices because they know that you're in a vulnerable position.
My aunt was fierce - always asking questions, inquiring about the need for this and that, verifying if what one representative's claim was true or not. In the end, we agreed that this company Eilin, was the best. The representative, Mr. Zhang, didn't seem shady and was very respectful of our situation.
This took nearly 3 hours to meet with 3 representatives. Meanwhile, my mom, sister, girlfriend and first aunt were in keeping my dad company. He was too weak to talk, and would respond with nods or the occasional, "Ugh."
My uncle - my mom's brother - and my aunt arrived in the afternoon as well to see my dad for the last time. My dad was very grateful of my uncle for helping get my dad into Tai Da Hospital and getting an appointment with a reputable liver doctor.
After my relatives left, my dad's condition seemed to stabilize. The nurses had earlier administered 2 bags of blood plasma and one I.V. bag of human albumin, which I believe was for the lung infection. He was now peeing and he would respond to what we were saying.
Once, he became frustrated and pulled off his oxygen mask. Then he started mumbling something not discernable. He became even more frustrated when we kept asking him to repeat what he said. We all tried to comfort him and calmed him down. That was difficult to go through.
At around 10 p.m., we were all exhausted. My girlfriend and my mom fell asleep on the couch. I fell asleep around 11 sitting in a chair; I was trying to write this blog, but it ended up being the letter, "k," repeating for several pages. My sister had the first shift to watch dad and monitor his condition.
At 12:40 a.m., I woke up to the nurse talking to my sister. She was explaining that my dad had lost his blood pressure and he would soon pass. I hurried over beside him. I brushed his forehead and looked him in the eyes. His heart was still beating and he was still breathing.
Earlier, my uncle and my second aunt both told me, "You need to tell your dad not to worry about your mom, that you and your sister will take care of her." Or, "Tell your dad that he'll be in a safe place."
My sister and I both told him those things, but he already knew we would.
Earlier in the day, I asked my dad if he thought about my grandmother. He nodded. I asked if he thought about my grandfather. He shook his head.
A few months ago, my dad recalled when grandma was nearing the end of her life. He had just arrived from Shanghai and I was taking him to see her. In the car, I told him he should thank her for sacrificing everything and bringing the family to Taiwan.
At first, he was reluctant, saying that she knew. But the minute he walked up to her, he broke into tears and thanked her. She hugged him and patted him on the back. My dad said that he will never forget that moment and he thanked me for telling him to say that.
Sitting there next to him, my sister said, "Fang xin, Pa. Wuo men hui kan hao Mommy."
"Fang xin," I added. "Ni ke-yi kan Nai-Nai. Ni ke-yi gen ta yiqi." (You can see grandma. You can be with her.)
No more than a second later, his breathing ceased.
We kissed him on the forehead. The doctor came in and pronounced my father's death at Thursday, May 17, 1:01 a.m.
My aunts had a hard time because they were leaving. This would be their last time seeing my dad. They tried really hard not to cry in front of him.
My second aunt from San Jose helped me meet with several funeral services today. My Chinese isn't good enough to do it alone and my mom was in no shape at all. So my aunt and I took up the responsibility. We had heard that if we didn't plan, the funeral service companies would jack up the prices because they know that you're in a vulnerable position.
My aunt was fierce - always asking questions, inquiring about the need for this and that, verifying if what one representative's claim was true or not. In the end, we agreed that this company Eilin, was the best. The representative, Mr. Zhang, didn't seem shady and was very respectful of our situation.
This took nearly 3 hours to meet with 3 representatives. Meanwhile, my mom, sister, girlfriend and first aunt were in keeping my dad company. He was too weak to talk, and would respond with nods or the occasional, "Ugh."
My uncle - my mom's brother - and my aunt arrived in the afternoon as well to see my dad for the last time. My dad was very grateful of my uncle for helping get my dad into Tai Da Hospital and getting an appointment with a reputable liver doctor.
After my relatives left, my dad's condition seemed to stabilize. The nurses had earlier administered 2 bags of blood plasma and one I.V. bag of human albumin, which I believe was for the lung infection. He was now peeing and he would respond to what we were saying.
Once, he became frustrated and pulled off his oxygen mask. Then he started mumbling something not discernable. He became even more frustrated when we kept asking him to repeat what he said. We all tried to comfort him and calmed him down. That was difficult to go through.
At around 10 p.m., we were all exhausted. My girlfriend and my mom fell asleep on the couch. I fell asleep around 11 sitting in a chair; I was trying to write this blog, but it ended up being the letter, "k," repeating for several pages. My sister had the first shift to watch dad and monitor his condition.
At 12:40 a.m., I woke up to the nurse talking to my sister. She was explaining that my dad had lost his blood pressure and he would soon pass. I hurried over beside him. I brushed his forehead and looked him in the eyes. His heart was still beating and he was still breathing.
Earlier, my uncle and my second aunt both told me, "You need to tell your dad not to worry about your mom, that you and your sister will take care of her." Or, "Tell your dad that he'll be in a safe place."
My sister and I both told him those things, but he already knew we would.
Earlier in the day, I asked my dad if he thought about my grandmother. He nodded. I asked if he thought about my grandfather. He shook his head.
A few months ago, my dad recalled when grandma was nearing the end of her life. He had just arrived from Shanghai and I was taking him to see her. In the car, I told him he should thank her for sacrificing everything and bringing the family to Taiwan.
At first, he was reluctant, saying that she knew. But the minute he walked up to her, he broke into tears and thanked her. She hugged him and patted him on the back. My dad said that he will never forget that moment and he thanked me for telling him to say that.
Sitting there next to him, my sister said, "Fang xin, Pa. Wuo men hui kan hao Mommy."
"Fang xin," I added. "Ni ke-yi kan Nai-Nai. Ni ke-yi gen ta yiqi." (You can see grandma. You can be with her.)
No more than a second later, his breathing ceased.
We kissed him on the forehead. The doctor came in and pronounced my father's death at Thursday, May 17, 1:01 a.m.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
It's A Roller Coaster
Jeff here.
It's been kind of scary these past few days. This has been a roller coaster ride for me and my family, as my father's condition has worsened.
On Friday, the day I arrived, the doctor of internal medicine on the floor motioned me and my mother outside. He said that he didn't have much time left, maybe 3 months. Because of the poor condition of his liver, his kidneys were being impacted. The level of ammonia in his blood is rising and as a result, he's tired and seems sleepy.
The doctor asked if there was anywhere he wanted to go. We told them Shanghai, but we all knew that it wouldn't be possible in his condition. There wasn't anywhere in Taiwan that he wanted to go to, that's for sure.
After speaking to the doctor, I went back into the room and my dad asked me if it was bad news. I tried not to lie. I told him, "No, but you have to really fight hard now."
He looked at me long and hard with these eyes that said, I'm tired. I don't have any more fight left.
At this point, the tears started welling up in my eyes. I hugged my dad. He started crying too, saying, "Wei shen-me Liu jia nan-de you zhege ming?"
Roughly translated, "Why do the men of the Liu family have such fates?"
He was referring to his younger brother who passed away from a preventable illness in his late teens/early twenties and his older brother who passed away from liver cancer about five years ago.
On Monday, the doctors told my aunts that my dad had a day or two left. He would be sleeping more and more, they said. I knew that he didn't have 3 months, but we all couldn't believe that it would be so fast.
That night, I asked my dad about the songs the Communists sang when they marched into Shanghai. He once told me that as a little boy, he remembered all these people singing these simple tunes, filling the streets with song. He couldn't remember, but he looked at me and said, "Zhen-me jian dan de ge."
My aunts were too young to remember. But our attention quickly turned to the television as we looked for some variety shows so that he could sing along to. His eyes were fixed on the screen as a performer sang an old song in Chinese. My aunts were singing along too.
Then out of nowhere, my mom started laughing. She said, "Wow, do that again! Only me and (the caregiver) saw you. Let everyone see."
We all looked at my dad and were like, "What? Show us."
After a few seconds, he smiled and wiggled his shoulders as if he were dancing. We all had a good laugh.
On Tuesday morning, I went to go pick up my girlfriend from the airport. My dad kept asking to see if she was coming. I was kind of surprised that he asked that, but realized that it was probably his way of saying, "Hurry up and get married."
When we got to the hospital, the doctors had given him an oxygen mask because his blood-oxygen level had been dropping, but it didn't elevate it enough. They gave him another one capable of more pressure.
Seeing him breathing in the mask reminded me of watching my grandmother in her final days with lung cancer. My dad is uncomfortable from all the heavy laxatives, the diaper rash, the oxygen mask, the feeding tube, and not being able to eat or drink like a normal person. Seeing him go through this day and night has been truly, truly heartbreaking for all of us.
On the other hand, when we ask him if he's feeling pain anywhere, he says no. He always seems to be listening, he always wakes up when the cute nurses arrive (really!) and he manages to crack a joke every once in a while. Moments like these, like my sister mentioned, have been precious.
All we're hoping for now is that he not suffer anymore than he already has. Please wish this to be true as well.
It's been kind of scary these past few days. This has been a roller coaster ride for me and my family, as my father's condition has worsened.
On Friday, the day I arrived, the doctor of internal medicine on the floor motioned me and my mother outside. He said that he didn't have much time left, maybe 3 months. Because of the poor condition of his liver, his kidneys were being impacted. The level of ammonia in his blood is rising and as a result, he's tired and seems sleepy.
The doctor asked if there was anywhere he wanted to go. We told them Shanghai, but we all knew that it wouldn't be possible in his condition. There wasn't anywhere in Taiwan that he wanted to go to, that's for sure.
After speaking to the doctor, I went back into the room and my dad asked me if it was bad news. I tried not to lie. I told him, "No, but you have to really fight hard now."
He looked at me long and hard with these eyes that said, I'm tired. I don't have any more fight left.
At this point, the tears started welling up in my eyes. I hugged my dad. He started crying too, saying, "Wei shen-me Liu jia nan-de you zhege ming?"
Roughly translated, "Why do the men of the Liu family have such fates?"
He was referring to his younger brother who passed away from a preventable illness in his late teens/early twenties and his older brother who passed away from liver cancer about five years ago.
On Monday, the doctors told my aunts that my dad had a day or two left. He would be sleeping more and more, they said. I knew that he didn't have 3 months, but we all couldn't believe that it would be so fast.
That night, I asked my dad about the songs the Communists sang when they marched into Shanghai. He once told me that as a little boy, he remembered all these people singing these simple tunes, filling the streets with song. He couldn't remember, but he looked at me and said, "Zhen-me jian dan de ge."
My aunts were too young to remember. But our attention quickly turned to the television as we looked for some variety shows so that he could sing along to. His eyes were fixed on the screen as a performer sang an old song in Chinese. My aunts were singing along too.
Then out of nowhere, my mom started laughing. She said, "Wow, do that again! Only me and (the caregiver) saw you. Let everyone see."
We all looked at my dad and were like, "What? Show us."
After a few seconds, he smiled and wiggled his shoulders as if he were dancing. We all had a good laugh.
On Tuesday morning, I went to go pick up my girlfriend from the airport. My dad kept asking to see if she was coming. I was kind of surprised that he asked that, but realized that it was probably his way of saying, "Hurry up and get married."
When we got to the hospital, the doctors had given him an oxygen mask because his blood-oxygen level had been dropping, but it didn't elevate it enough. They gave him another one capable of more pressure.
Seeing him breathing in the mask reminded me of watching my grandmother in her final days with lung cancer. My dad is uncomfortable from all the heavy laxatives, the diaper rash, the oxygen mask, the feeding tube, and not being able to eat or drink like a normal person. Seeing him go through this day and night has been truly, truly heartbreaking for all of us.
On the other hand, when we ask him if he's feeling pain anywhere, he says no. He always seems to be listening, he always wakes up when the cute nurses arrive (really!) and he manages to crack a joke every once in a while. Moments like these, like my sister mentioned, have been precious.
All we're hoping for now is that he not suffer anymore than he already has. Please wish this to be true as well.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Mother's Day with Dad
The aunties arrived Saturday night and came to the hospital early Sunday morning. Luckily my dad has a single room because that morning there were about six of us there. My two aunts, my mom, brother, myself, and the caregiver. It was a pretty full room.
All the emotion that morning really hit me and I started breaking down in tears. I thought my dad was sleeping because he had just gone to the bathroom and was exhausted. But he heard me blow my nose, pulled me over and hugged me. He told me, "I Love You."
As much as my mom didn't want me to cry, I think it was good to have that moment with my father.
Half an hour later, my uncle (married to the aunt from Toronto) and his younger brother came to visit. All the action in the room made him feel really happy. He loves being the center of attention, and in the middle of the excitement. You couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
The doctors prescribed him a laxative to help him go poo. The night before, my brother and the caregiver had to get up 3-4 times to help clean him up after going. They had a busy night and were completely exhausted when the aunties arrived. The doctors decided to stop administering the laxative before bed so he wouldn't be up all night.
My dad's bottom is pretty raw from laying on his back all day and going to the bathroom on diapers. He hasn't had the energy the past week to go to the bathroom on his own. They've tried to use talcum powder and liquid spray bandages to try and help his bottom have time to dry and maybe develop a scab or something to protect it from each time he goes to the bathroom.
I feel that a couple of the things my dad really enjoys is being able to eat whatever he wanted, when he wanted, and being able to go poo in less than five minutes. It's something that he and I have in common. And it was something that we talked about in the house rather freely. Whether we went that day, how fast, the sound, we got into some pretty gruesome details.
Unfortunately, now when he goes poo, he has to prepare for the stinging pain of washing his raw bottom. Since he's on a laxative, he can't control when he goes, which is pretty frequent. Every time my dad went poo that day, my mom and the caregiver would clean him up and dry him off. As soon as they were finished or were about to finish, he would start going poo again.
He went about 3-4 times each round with about 3-4 rounds a day. That day, he had to endure being washed about 12 times. They try to wait until the round is over before washing him, but it didn't always work.
Some good news is that my dad's mouth is recovering. His lips have developed scabs and they're not as raw as before. We think that he might be fully healed in the next couple of days so he can eat real food.
His mouth has been really dry because he hasn't been eating or drinking. With the feeding tube, food goes straight into his stomach. But it's dry mostly because he's breathing through his mouth. We tried using giant cotton swabs so that he could suck out the water, but the swabs were so big that they would rub against the healing sores on his lips and cause his lips to bleed again.
We then tried spoon-feeding him water, but he would still choke a little from it. I took a peek at the inside of his mouth and his tongue was so dry that I thought spoon feeding wasn't helping the overall dryness he felt in his mouth.
Jeff and I came up with the idea of spraying water into his mouth. He still chokes on the water a bit, but the caregiver says it's because he doesn't have enough to swallow. We know it works because when we ask him if he wants us to spray into his mouth, he wakes up and responds with a very clear Yao! And with the spray, it gets better coverage over the inside of his mouth.
We celebrated Mother's Day a little in the hospital. Jeff bought flowers for everyone, including the aunties and me, and we bought a cake for our caregiver.
We all know that dad misses the taste of food, so someone came up with the idea that we should let him smell Jeff's Hey Song sarsparilla while spraying water into his mouth. My dad opened his eyes so wide and fast, he also tried to grab the soda out of my aunt's hands. With that we thought that giving him some soda might cheer him up.
He was so excited with the taste of something other than water, he was cherishing each taste. We asked him how the soda tasted and he replied with a very strong, "Dang ren hao" (of course it's good).
I think that as much as we all try to make him smile and laugh, our mood is really dictated by his responses. And when we end the day with a big smile from him, those of us that leave the hospital leave feeling that at least there's a chance that he'll still be happy when we come back the next day.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Laura Arrives in Taipei
My flight arrived on Friday at 10 p.m. Since my flight arrived so late, my mom picked me up and we went back to the apartment to rest. The next morning we went straight to the hospital to visit dad. Jeff was already there, having arrived at 6 a.m. the day before.
I arrived prepared not to cry. My mom kept telling me that I'm not supposed to show my dad how upset I am. I had seen a picture of him in his hospital bed so I had an idea of what to prepare for. When I got there and saw how his mouth was covered in ointment to prevent it from bleeding, I nearly broke down. He also had what looks like little red dots everywhere on his hands, arms and feet that are similar to bruises, but some are scabbed because fluid broke through his skin from the swelling he's been experiencing.
He was awake for about 1 minute after I arrived. Just long enough for a big smile and then he dozed off. Apparently, he was exhausted from Jeff's visit the day before. We kept trying to wake him up to go out into the garden, but his eyes would just roll back and he'd fall asleep again.
Jeff went home because he had spent all of yesterday and last night with dad. My mom and I pretty much sat around most of the morning. I spent most of it rubbing his belly trying to help his digestion.
Dad's days are no longer dictated by the types of food he gets to eat anymore. It's all about whether or not he can go to the bathroom, both #1 and #2...but mostly #2.
He's had high levels of ammonia in his blood, which if he doesn't go to the bathroom, is bad. Going to the bathroom basically helps get rid of all the toxins in his body. When he's not able to do either, he spends the day sleeping. So, I was determined to help him pass whatever was in his system so that he could spend the day talking to me as well.
My parents hired a caregiver who helps out a lot - from talking to him, cleaning after him, picking him up. This morning she told us that my dad has been coughing every time he eats. Since he's so delicate with the bruising and bleeding, the doctors thought it would be best to feed him through a tube. They're worried that his choking on his food might cause fluid to go into his lungs, which would cause another problem that we'd all rather avoid.
Watching someone put a tube up my dad's nose to go down into the stomach was pretty hard. Especially since he wasn't really aware of what was going on. The nurses explained it to him, but I think he was half asleep, not quite grasping what was happening.
After the tube was in place, they fed him a nutritional drink, Prosure (sorta like Ensure). Then they ground up his medication and mixed it with water and fed that to him as well.
I'm not sure whether he can eat solid foods again. At least not until his condition improves.
I arrived prepared not to cry. My mom kept telling me that I'm not supposed to show my dad how upset I am. I had seen a picture of him in his hospital bed so I had an idea of what to prepare for. When I got there and saw how his mouth was covered in ointment to prevent it from bleeding, I nearly broke down. He also had what looks like little red dots everywhere on his hands, arms and feet that are similar to bruises, but some are scabbed because fluid broke through his skin from the swelling he's been experiencing.
He was awake for about 1 minute after I arrived. Just long enough for a big smile and then he dozed off. Apparently, he was exhausted from Jeff's visit the day before. We kept trying to wake him up to go out into the garden, but his eyes would just roll back and he'd fall asleep again.
Jeff went home because he had spent all of yesterday and last night with dad. My mom and I pretty much sat around most of the morning. I spent most of it rubbing his belly trying to help his digestion.
Dad's days are no longer dictated by the types of food he gets to eat anymore. It's all about whether or not he can go to the bathroom, both #1 and #2...but mostly #2.
He's had high levels of ammonia in his blood, which if he doesn't go to the bathroom, is bad. Going to the bathroom basically helps get rid of all the toxins in his body. When he's not able to do either, he spends the day sleeping. So, I was determined to help him pass whatever was in his system so that he could spend the day talking to me as well.
My parents hired a caregiver who helps out a lot - from talking to him, cleaning after him, picking him up. This morning she told us that my dad has been coughing every time he eats. Since he's so delicate with the bruising and bleeding, the doctors thought it would be best to feed him through a tube. They're worried that his choking on his food might cause fluid to go into his lungs, which would cause another problem that we'd all rather avoid.
Watching someone put a tube up my dad's nose to go down into the stomach was pretty hard. Especially since he wasn't really aware of what was going on. The nurses explained it to him, but I think he was half asleep, not quite grasping what was happening.
After the tube was in place, they fed him a nutritional drink, Prosure (sorta like Ensure). Then they ground up his medication and mixed it with water and fed that to him as well.
I'm not sure whether he can eat solid foods again. At least not until his condition improves.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Leaving for Taipei
My dad is now hospitalized at Tai Da. After a day or so in the emergency room last month, he was admitted into the hospital, where it was more peaceful and he had better care. Our cancer doctor was checking on him now and ran some tests on him.
A few weeks ago, he seemed tired but OK. He told me they drained 1000 cc of fluid from his belly. The fluid was slightly red, indicating the presence of blood. I think the doctors were afraid that once they drained the fluid, that he would start bleeding profusely (the pressure from the fluid was preventing any heavy bleeding).
Well, that didn't happen. He felt much better and immediately wanted to eat, which was good.
Since then, my mom has had to carefully measure his intake and outtake of any fluids in his body. Late last week, my mom hired a nurse to take over some of the care needed for my dad now. He needs assistance to get up out of the bed and to the bathroom, especially in the middle of the night.
These past few weeks have been very difficult for her. Physically, it has been draining. She's been getting up and going to the hospital every day at 8 a.m. and doesn't leave until about 8 p.m. Emotionally, I think she feels isolated.
Yesterday, I spoke with her and my dad. My dad sounded OK, but his lips have been peeling and his mouth had sores, a side-effect of his medication. My mom asked me when I was coming and I told her that I booked my ticket for the 15th of May.
But tonight, my sister called me and said that my mom wanted us to go immediately. It was all very vague, partly because my mom was crying. So I called my mom and this is what she said:
"Jeff you better come right now. The doctor keeps asking when you and Laura are going to come. He says that it's best that you come now, while he's still able to recognize you."
I was shocked. I just spoke to him yesterday and he seemed fine. But my mom said that he's not eating now because of the open sores in his mouth and cracked lips. I spoke to my dad briefly, but I could hardly understand him. His voice was weak and it seemed like his lips were hardly moving.
The doctor took him off the chemotherapy drugs, so they'll see what happens. But I called my boss immediately after to let her know that I'd be leaving for Taiwan, tomorrow night.
A few weeks ago, he seemed tired but OK. He told me they drained 1000 cc of fluid from his belly. The fluid was slightly red, indicating the presence of blood. I think the doctors were afraid that once they drained the fluid, that he would start bleeding profusely (the pressure from the fluid was preventing any heavy bleeding).
Well, that didn't happen. He felt much better and immediately wanted to eat, which was good.
Since then, my mom has had to carefully measure his intake and outtake of any fluids in his body. Late last week, my mom hired a nurse to take over some of the care needed for my dad now. He needs assistance to get up out of the bed and to the bathroom, especially in the middle of the night.
These past few weeks have been very difficult for her. Physically, it has been draining. She's been getting up and going to the hospital every day at 8 a.m. and doesn't leave until about 8 p.m. Emotionally, I think she feels isolated.
Yesterday, I spoke with her and my dad. My dad sounded OK, but his lips have been peeling and his mouth had sores, a side-effect of his medication. My mom asked me when I was coming and I told her that I booked my ticket for the 15th of May.
But tonight, my sister called me and said that my mom wanted us to go immediately. It was all very vague, partly because my mom was crying. So I called my mom and this is what she said:
"Jeff you better come right now. The doctor keeps asking when you and Laura are going to come. He says that it's best that you come now, while he's still able to recognize you."
I was shocked. I just spoke to him yesterday and he seemed fine. But my mom said that he's not eating now because of the open sores in his mouth and cracked lips. I spoke to my dad briefly, but I could hardly understand him. His voice was weak and it seemed like his lips were hardly moving.
The doctor took him off the chemotherapy drugs, so they'll see what happens. But I called my boss immediately after to let her know that I'd be leaving for Taiwan, tomorrow night.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Deja Vu
Jeff here again. I called my sister when she got back from Taipei and asked her what happened these past few days. I was busy with work and didn't get a chance to call. It also took me a while to finish writing about my trip. The idea was to have my sister write while she was there, but I delayed that. When I did give her the username and password for this blog, she couldn't login for some reason. And by the time I figured that Blogger has a new and an old login page, and she had logged in the other one, she was on her way back to San Francisco.
In any case, she told me about my dad's swelling and how my mom was going to take my dad to the hospital after she dropped my sister off. But she had just talked to my mom and they ended up not going because my dad was too tired. This was Saturday here in the States.
I called my mom and she said basically the same thing as what my sister told me, that my dad was too tired. But today, she was going to take him. I talked to her again Saturday night (Sunday afternoon over there), and she told me that she still hadn't taken him.
Apparently, my dad woke up and went to the bathroom and took a shower. After showering, he was too tired and went to his bedroom to take a nap. He got up to eat lunch, but afterwards, he was again too tired to go to the hospital and went to sleep.
Frustrated, my mom told me that she couldn't sleep very well the previous night because she was constantly worried about my dad. His swelling was bad in his feet and his stomach. She said he could walk, but not that far. On top of that, he was eating less and less, and was a little constipated too.
My concern was what if the swelling got so bad that he couldn't get himself up? How would she get him out of bed?
My mom agreed. She told me that she thinks my dad doesn't want to go to the emergency room because of his first experience there. It was New Year's Day, he had just arrived from Shanghai and he had a very high fever. My mom took him immediately to the hospital emergency room. He stuck in the hallway for days, with constant noise and no privacy. On top of that, my dad's fever raised an alarm with Taiwan's Center for Disease Control. They thought that my dad went to China and came back with Avian Flu.
I asked my mom to let me talk to my dad. She woke him up and he sounded really weak, despite it being 4 p.m. in the afternoon their time. I asked him why he hasn't gone to the hospital yet. He said somewhat incomprehensibly that he had a checkup on Tuesday.
I assumed that he meant that he was willing to wait it out. So I told him: "Pa, you are in serious condition. The swelling is making you so uncomfortable, you can't eat. If you don't go to the hospital, you are just going to get worse.
"Remember when you told me you didn't want mom to suffer? Well, if you don't go to the hospital, you are making her suffer. So please go to the hospital, you will feel a lot better after they drain all the fluid. It won't take that long."
My dad only responded with an occasional "Ehhh."
I got back on the phone with my mom and we talked about getting him to the hospital. I asked her what would she do if my dad could not physically get to the hospital. I suggested calling an ambulance or calling on my cousin.
She said there was another downside of going to the hospital now - it was a holiday weekend. It was almost deja vu, because the dreaded emergency room episode also took place during the New Year's holiday, and half the hospital staff was out. This weekend, it was Tomb-Sweeping weekend, and most definitely, hospital workers would be out paying respects to the dead.
I told my mom that we're sorry we couldn't be there to help and that I hope she stays strong. She responded, "O.K.-la, bye."
The next day, I called the apartment but no one was there. Part of me was relieved that they had finally gone to the hospital. I called my dad's cell phone twice and he answered the second time. I could tell that he was in a hospital, there were voices in the background.
I asked him where he was. He said he was in the hospital emergency room. I told him I was glad he was there.
"Glad ni de pi! I am so tired, but I can't sleep because it's too noisy. I haven't slept for two days."
I asked him why he was there so long, how come they haven't taken the fluids out. He said that they tried to, but when they were taking it out of his belly, they saw a little bit of blood and so they stopped. The doctors think the blood might be coming from his liver, so they have to run some more tests.
He was pretty miserable and pissed off. But I told him, "Dad, I know that you are not happy right now and you're not comfortable, but I'm really glad that you are in the hospital."
He said, "Ehhh ... O.K., I'm tired. Bye."
In any case, she told me about my dad's swelling and how my mom was going to take my dad to the hospital after she dropped my sister off. But she had just talked to my mom and they ended up not going because my dad was too tired. This was Saturday here in the States.
I called my mom and she said basically the same thing as what my sister told me, that my dad was too tired. But today, she was going to take him. I talked to her again Saturday night (Sunday afternoon over there), and she told me that she still hadn't taken him.
Apparently, my dad woke up and went to the bathroom and took a shower. After showering, he was too tired and went to his bedroom to take a nap. He got up to eat lunch, but afterwards, he was again too tired to go to the hospital and went to sleep.
Frustrated, my mom told me that she couldn't sleep very well the previous night because she was constantly worried about my dad. His swelling was bad in his feet and his stomach. She said he could walk, but not that far. On top of that, he was eating less and less, and was a little constipated too.
My concern was what if the swelling got so bad that he couldn't get himself up? How would she get him out of bed?
My mom agreed. She told me that she thinks my dad doesn't want to go to the emergency room because of his first experience there. It was New Year's Day, he had just arrived from Shanghai and he had a very high fever. My mom took him immediately to the hospital emergency room. He stuck in the hallway for days, with constant noise and no privacy. On top of that, my dad's fever raised an alarm with Taiwan's Center for Disease Control. They thought that my dad went to China and came back with Avian Flu.
I asked my mom to let me talk to my dad. She woke him up and he sounded really weak, despite it being 4 p.m. in the afternoon their time. I asked him why he hasn't gone to the hospital yet. He said somewhat incomprehensibly that he had a checkup on Tuesday.
I assumed that he meant that he was willing to wait it out. So I told him: "Pa, you are in serious condition. The swelling is making you so uncomfortable, you can't eat. If you don't go to the hospital, you are just going to get worse.
"Remember when you told me you didn't want mom to suffer? Well, if you don't go to the hospital, you are making her suffer. So please go to the hospital, you will feel a lot better after they drain all the fluid. It won't take that long."
My dad only responded with an occasional "Ehhh."
I got back on the phone with my mom and we talked about getting him to the hospital. I asked her what would she do if my dad could not physically get to the hospital. I suggested calling an ambulance or calling on my cousin.
She said there was another downside of going to the hospital now - it was a holiday weekend. It was almost deja vu, because the dreaded emergency room episode also took place during the New Year's holiday, and half the hospital staff was out. This weekend, it was Tomb-Sweeping weekend, and most definitely, hospital workers would be out paying respects to the dead.
I told my mom that we're sorry we couldn't be there to help and that I hope she stays strong. She responded, "O.K.-la, bye."
The next day, I called the apartment but no one was there. Part of me was relieved that they had finally gone to the hospital. I called my dad's cell phone twice and he answered the second time. I could tell that he was in a hospital, there were voices in the background.
I asked him where he was. He said he was in the hospital emergency room. I told him I was glad he was there.
"Glad ni de pi! I am so tired, but I can't sleep because it's too noisy. I haven't slept for two days."
I asked him why he was there so long, how come they haven't taken the fluids out. He said that they tried to, but when they were taking it out of his belly, they saw a little bit of blood and so they stopped. The doctors think the blood might be coming from his liver, so they have to run some more tests.
He was pretty miserable and pissed off. But I told him, "Dad, I know that you are not happy right now and you're not comfortable, but I'm really glad that you are in the hospital."
He said, "Ehhh ... O.K., I'm tired. Bye."
Monday, April 9, 2007
Laura's Visit: Day Two
My dad got up at 7:30 and that's when everyone started to move around. I made breakfast (eggs and toasted bagels). Mom made coffee for the both of us.
Dad announced that he needed to have a bigger lunch and a smaller dinner. He had felt bloated from the dinner we made last night. (Penne pasta with tomato sauce and onion bagels, toasted, dipped in olive oil, and a soup that mom made.) And even though he was able to fall asleep, when he woke up, the bloated feeling was still there and kept him awake. By making lunch bigger and dinner smaller, he would be able to sleep through the night without feeling hungry or uncomfortable. We all agreed that this was a very wise decision on his part and we would make the adjustments according to his needs.
After breakfast dad fell back asleep. It's during this nap that my mom and I went out to do a little shopping. We had to buy milk. That's about all we could think of. Dad wanted to eat out for lunch, which the both of us didn't want to do, but he'd be upset if we didn't go along with this idea.
After the morning nap, we went to the accupuncturist's office and then went out for lunch. Dad had yu tou soup on his mind. The same soup Jeff and the Aunties had during their visit. Yes, the same one that could've fed ten people. I think he had such a good time with my brother and the Aunties at that meal, that he wanted to relive it with me and my mom. No such luck. Instead, we found a nice restaurant that served a medicinal chicken soup.
The restaurant wasn't bad. Everything we ordered was light and tasted pretty good. I think the most important thing was that my mom was around and she has a pretty big say on what gets ordered.
When we were done, we sat around to digest for a little while. During this time I noticed my dad staring at every dish the waitress was carrying to the next table, mouth open, eyes looking hungry. My mom made a comment about how scary he looked. Then we all laughed because we all knew that he really was hungry inside and couldn't help but feel envious of all the dishes the next table was able to eat. We packed up the soup and went home. Dinner was going to involve the leftover soup.
Dad's pretty upset about his weight-loss. He kept bringing it up and I kept trying to make light of it. I reminded him that since he was in his forties, he's been trying to lose weight. Now he doesn't have to worry about it anymore. All he could do was chuckle out of courtesy. He said ..."not like this". And he's right, because he's not only lost excess weight, but all the muscle in this arms and legs. He has little to no energy and when he does anything, it makes him completely exhausted. So he sleeps. And when he sleeps, he becomes inactive, which is probably why he's lost all the muscle in his body.
Dad's constantly comparing himself now with himself a couple of months ago. "I used to be able to walk a lot, now i can't"... but that's because he was on a medication that wasn't having much effect on his cancer. So, now the medication seems to be working, but he can't seem to stop feeling fatigued.
After dinner, I gave him a light back rub. The guy at the acupuncturist office showed me where he needed a massage to help his shoulder. After about five minutes my dad was out of breath saying that he felt like he just worked out.
Dad announced that he needed to have a bigger lunch and a smaller dinner. He had felt bloated from the dinner we made last night. (Penne pasta with tomato sauce and onion bagels, toasted, dipped in olive oil, and a soup that mom made.) And even though he was able to fall asleep, when he woke up, the bloated feeling was still there and kept him awake. By making lunch bigger and dinner smaller, he would be able to sleep through the night without feeling hungry or uncomfortable. We all agreed that this was a very wise decision on his part and we would make the adjustments according to his needs.
After breakfast dad fell back asleep. It's during this nap that my mom and I went out to do a little shopping. We had to buy milk. That's about all we could think of. Dad wanted to eat out for lunch, which the both of us didn't want to do, but he'd be upset if we didn't go along with this idea.
After the morning nap, we went to the accupuncturist's office and then went out for lunch. Dad had yu tou soup on his mind. The same soup Jeff and the Aunties had during their visit. Yes, the same one that could've fed ten people. I think he had such a good time with my brother and the Aunties at that meal, that he wanted to relive it with me and my mom. No such luck. Instead, we found a nice restaurant that served a medicinal chicken soup.
The restaurant wasn't bad. Everything we ordered was light and tasted pretty good. I think the most important thing was that my mom was around and she has a pretty big say on what gets ordered.
When we were done, we sat around to digest for a little while. During this time I noticed my dad staring at every dish the waitress was carrying to the next table, mouth open, eyes looking hungry. My mom made a comment about how scary he looked. Then we all laughed because we all knew that he really was hungry inside and couldn't help but feel envious of all the dishes the next table was able to eat. We packed up the soup and went home. Dinner was going to involve the leftover soup.
Dad's pretty upset about his weight-loss. He kept bringing it up and I kept trying to make light of it. I reminded him that since he was in his forties, he's been trying to lose weight. Now he doesn't have to worry about it anymore. All he could do was chuckle out of courtesy. He said ..."not like this". And he's right, because he's not only lost excess weight, but all the muscle in this arms and legs. He has little to no energy and when he does anything, it makes him completely exhausted. So he sleeps. And when he sleeps, he becomes inactive, which is probably why he's lost all the muscle in his body.
Dad's constantly comparing himself now with himself a couple of months ago. "I used to be able to walk a lot, now i can't"... but that's because he was on a medication that wasn't having much effect on his cancer. So, now the medication seems to be working, but he can't seem to stop feeling fatigued.
After dinner, I gave him a light back rub. The guy at the acupuncturist office showed me where he needed a massage to help his shoulder. After about five minutes my dad was out of breath saying that he felt like he just worked out.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Laura's Visit: Day One
I arrived in Taipei at 6am, Tuesday. The plan was for me to take the Express bus to Sun Yat Sen Memorial and from there mom picked me up. It was rainy and cold and I was so happy when I saw my mom. We got into a cab and went straight to the apartment.
When we arrived at the apartment, my dad was still sleeping. I had over a week to prepare myself for when I saw my dad's weightloss. I walked in and was a little shocked. I woke him and told him that he looked good. He sat up and flashed me a big smile and said "you too". I knew it was going to be a good day.
I started to unpack the forty pounds of luggage that I brought. Some more organic pasta, a toaster, an answering machine, a digital camera, two small bottles of spices, two pounds of granola cereal, four bottles of Isotonix, a bottle of organic olive oil and half a dozen bagels. My mom was impressed that I was able to pack everything into one suitcase. I told her that I had a great teacher. She laughed because she knows that she's able to pack any amount of clothing into a single suitcase and have it come out without a wrinkle.
I started to make breakfast. Liu family eggs over half a toasted bagel. Everyone was happy and we were just enjoying each other's company. Dad took his medicine and almost instantly fell asleep. He walked off to his bedroom and fell asleep as soon as his bed touched his pillow.
This was when my mom and I went out for some grocery shopping at the market down the street. As tiring as her daily schedule is, I know that there's something fun and interesting everytime she goes to the market. She told me that the clothes here are cheap and everyday there are different vendors. The other day she saw people selling pants for 100 NT. That's about 3 US Dollars. She said she figured she wouldn't get them that day. The next day, they were gone.
We get back and dad's awake and ready to go to the acupuncturist. Dad's arm still hurt and going to the acupuncturist's office gave him some relief. They also wanted to see if I could find some relief for my neck and headaches.
When we arrived at the office dad sat in a chair and they put a heat pack on him while I sat next to him with six needles in my neck and shoulders. After the time was up, I got onto the massage table and this short stalky man started to treat me with tui na. It's like a massage but the person presses a lot harder, so it's not relaxing, and it hurts a lot. Afterwards, dad got on the table and the man starts tui na on him.
It hurt him as well, but he's positive that it's been beneficial. He told me that after his first visit, he urinated a white fluid. I read online that those with cancer often experience swelling. That the lymph nodes were being blocked which release a white fluid. I thought that maybe the tui na was massaging the lymph glands and helping the release of the fluids. Of course, it only happened that one time.
When we were done with the treatment, dad was ready to go out for lunch. Mom and I objected because we had already planned the lunch and dinner. We got home and cooked lunch and when we were done, we all sat around and watched a little tv.
Dad dozed off and once he was asleep, mom and I were off shopping again. We didn't need much, but I think the time shopping is a chance for my mom to get out and moving.
We made dinner early because I was already starting to crash. I made some penne pasta with marinara sauce. I added some red chili peppers. Dad was looking forward to the chili peppers because he loves adding it to his spagetti. However, this time, it was too spicy for him and he couldn't finish his pasta. Dad was stuffed, took his medication and got ready for bed.
Dad told me that he's hungry all the time, but he can't eat much because he feels bloated. And when he feels bloated, he gets really uncomfortable and cranky. It was good news to hear that he had an apetite, but unfortunate to hear that he can't satisfy his hunger.
We all started to watch The Sixth Sense and I passed out. I woke up in the middle of the night and heard my dad moving around. I went into his room to keep him company. He was feeling bloated. I tried to hang out with him. He just told me to go back and keep my mom company.
And that was Day One.
When we arrived at the apartment, my dad was still sleeping. I had over a week to prepare myself for when I saw my dad's weightloss. I walked in and was a little shocked. I woke him and told him that he looked good. He sat up and flashed me a big smile and said "you too". I knew it was going to be a good day.
I started to unpack the forty pounds of luggage that I brought. Some more organic pasta, a toaster, an answering machine, a digital camera, two small bottles of spices, two pounds of granola cereal, four bottles of Isotonix, a bottle of organic olive oil and half a dozen bagels. My mom was impressed that I was able to pack everything into one suitcase. I told her that I had a great teacher. She laughed because she knows that she's able to pack any amount of clothing into a single suitcase and have it come out without a wrinkle.
I started to make breakfast. Liu family eggs over half a toasted bagel. Everyone was happy and we were just enjoying each other's company. Dad took his medicine and almost instantly fell asleep. He walked off to his bedroom and fell asleep as soon as his bed touched his pillow.
This was when my mom and I went out for some grocery shopping at the market down the street. As tiring as her daily schedule is, I know that there's something fun and interesting everytime she goes to the market. She told me that the clothes here are cheap and everyday there are different vendors. The other day she saw people selling pants for 100 NT. That's about 3 US Dollars. She said she figured she wouldn't get them that day. The next day, they were gone.
We get back and dad's awake and ready to go to the acupuncturist. Dad's arm still hurt and going to the acupuncturist's office gave him some relief. They also wanted to see if I could find some relief for my neck and headaches.
When we arrived at the office dad sat in a chair and they put a heat pack on him while I sat next to him with six needles in my neck and shoulders. After the time was up, I got onto the massage table and this short stalky man started to treat me with tui na. It's like a massage but the person presses a lot harder, so it's not relaxing, and it hurts a lot. Afterwards, dad got on the table and the man starts tui na on him.
It hurt him as well, but he's positive that it's been beneficial. He told me that after his first visit, he urinated a white fluid. I read online that those with cancer often experience swelling. That the lymph nodes were being blocked which release a white fluid. I thought that maybe the tui na was massaging the lymph glands and helping the release of the fluids. Of course, it only happened that one time.
When we were done with the treatment, dad was ready to go out for lunch. Mom and I objected because we had already planned the lunch and dinner. We got home and cooked lunch and when we were done, we all sat around and watched a little tv.
Dad dozed off and once he was asleep, mom and I were off shopping again. We didn't need much, but I think the time shopping is a chance for my mom to get out and moving.
We made dinner early because I was already starting to crash. I made some penne pasta with marinara sauce. I added some red chili peppers. Dad was looking forward to the chili peppers because he loves adding it to his spagetti. However, this time, it was too spicy for him and he couldn't finish his pasta. Dad was stuffed, took his medication and got ready for bed.
Dad told me that he's hungry all the time, but he can't eat much because he feels bloated. And when he feels bloated, he gets really uncomfortable and cranky. It was good news to hear that he had an apetite, but unfortunate to hear that he can't satisfy his hunger.
We all started to watch The Sixth Sense and I passed out. I woke up in the middle of the night and heard my dad moving around. I went into his room to keep him company. He was feeling bloated. I tried to hang out with him. He just told me to go back and keep my mom company.
And that was Day One.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Doctor Revisited
On Thursday, we had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon. My dad wasn't as excited about the check-up as he was about my mom coming back. He prepared by making sure he got a lot of rest, because at night he wanted us to all go out and eat.
The question of the day was where to eat dinner. He wanted Capone's, but he was worried my mom wouldn't want to eat Western food. So as a backup, we picked out Kao Chi, the Shanghainese restaurant we went to last time I was here - no, not Taipei 101 again.
After eating lunch, we started getting ready. At 3:30 p.m., we left for Tai Da. We got to the Oncology ward just in time. We hadn't waited for more than 2 minutes when the nurse called our number.
My dad began by explaining that he was doing fine, his appetite was back and physically he was feeling better. He also told the liver cancer specialist that he had kicked off all the other meds. The doctor was shocked. He was like, "Everything? Even the pain killers?"
I said, "No, not exactly. He took it on two occasions - once when he went poo 8 times a day (as I figured its side effects would counteract this) and the second time when he couldn't sleep. Both times it worked."
The doctor looked a little confused. He didn't think it would counteract the pooing, but he went back to my dad and asked him if he was feeling any pain. My dad said no.
At that point, the doctor did a physical check up on my dad's abdomen. My dad went on to explain that for the first time, he had sneezed loudly and it didn't bother him. For the past two months, he couldn't take deep breaths because his lungs would press up against the tumor and cause pain. But now, he was sneezing, yawning, even sleeping on his side, which he couldn't do before.
You should have seen the look on the doctor's face. He looked at me and I concurred. The doctor was in disbelief. He said he never seen anyone cut off that much medication at once. He also said the tumor felt smaller and that my dad's body was taking to the Capecitabine quite well.
I could tell that he was still in shock, though. He asked us, "So you don't need any more pain killers, stool softener, constipation pills, hiccup pills, appetite meds?" My dad said no, we still have a lot left.
He wrote out a prescription for a two week supply of Capecitabine and told us that he would give us the number to contact the distributor directly for future doses of the chemo drug. I guess they don't have enough to distribute or something.
I then asked my dad to explain his sleepnessness and the dreams he's been having. The doctor suggested prescribing sleeping pills. At first my dad said no, but after I suggested that he should at least have some on hand just in case, my dad agreed. The doctor prescribed some light sleeping pills so my dad shouldn't be too worried.
Outside the doctor's office, my dad asked excitedly, "Did you see the doctor's expression when I told him I wasn't taking any other medication? His eyes got so big." My dad then wanted me to count how many seconds it would take for him to take a deep breath. I counted 8 seconds. He then walked over to the weight scale and measured himself. He said he had gained 2.5 kilos from the week before, when we last came to see the doctor.
My dad said, "You see, before I could only take small breaths. I couldn't even yawn really because it would hurt."
After getting the prescriptions, I went to go pay. The bill came out to be NT$11,000, which we didn't have in cash, so I had to run downstairs to the ATM and make a withdrawal. The majority of the bill was for a 2-week supply of Capecitabine. The stuff isn't cheap, I tell ya.
Walking down the hallway of the hospital, I looked over at my dad. He looked pensive, deep in thought, not like he was 10 minutes ago.
I asked him what was wrong. He said, bursting into tears, "I'm just so happy."
I told him that the results were really positive and the fact that he got his appetite back is a huge plus. We were all really happy for him.
Then he said, "These past few months have been a complete waste of time. I should yell at the doctor for putting me on that medication."
I tried to be positive, telling him that the Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide didn't shrink the size of the tumor that much, but it didn't allow the tumor to grow either. That was important because the cancer could have spread to other parts of the body and been even more difficult to stop. The difference between that and taking nothing would have surely been death.
But inside, I understood how frustrated my dad must have been. All that suffering, all that weight loss, the pain.
We had to rush back home because my mom was on her way back from the airport. My dad choked on some grape juice and said that he had to calm down from being too excited that mom was back soon. When we got back, I picked up a card for him at the bookstore. He wrote my mom a nice little note and we placed it on the living room table.
My mom arrived loud and proud. She walked in the door and went into the bedroom to hug my dad. My dad immediately started tearing. It was too much for him.
My mom didn't really know how to respond, I think. She was just like, "Ah-yo, what's the matter? Look, I brought you the clothes you wanted! And here's some cookies!"
It was funny, like she was trying to cheer up a child.
After my mom unpacked her luggage, we all went out to eat at Capone's. When we got seated, my dad was like, "We'll order a smaller pizza this time as an appetizer and split a soup and salad. Then we can each order a pasta or steak."
Well, no one ordered a steak, and we only ordered one pasta dish. My dad's eyes were bigger than his stomach. With the pizza, soup and salad, we had enough to feed all three of us, and still have leftovers.
The next day, my dad woke up tired and his right shoulder aching. He had slept on his side, and since he had lost all of his muscle tissue, his right shoulder was in pain. The Salonpas I got him didn't work. I told him he could have taken a Tramal Retard. It's a pain killer, that's what it's for. He said he was worried about being constipated from the medicine, but took one after breakfast.
My dad spent most of the day sleeping. I packed my stuff and taught my mom on how to make the Isotonix drink (which the liver cancer specialist said would do more good than harm) and dispense his medication. I told her not to worry, as my sister was coming to visit on Tuesday.
It was a tiring 10 days. And when I got back to Los Angeles, I slept for 12 hours ... straight.
The question of the day was where to eat dinner. He wanted Capone's, but he was worried my mom wouldn't want to eat Western food. So as a backup, we picked out Kao Chi, the Shanghainese restaurant we went to last time I was here - no, not Taipei 101 again.
After eating lunch, we started getting ready. At 3:30 p.m., we left for Tai Da. We got to the Oncology ward just in time. We hadn't waited for more than 2 minutes when the nurse called our number.
My dad began by explaining that he was doing fine, his appetite was back and physically he was feeling better. He also told the liver cancer specialist that he had kicked off all the other meds. The doctor was shocked. He was like, "Everything? Even the pain killers?"
I said, "No, not exactly. He took it on two occasions - once when he went poo 8 times a day (as I figured its side effects would counteract this) and the second time when he couldn't sleep. Both times it worked."
The doctor looked a little confused. He didn't think it would counteract the pooing, but he went back to my dad and asked him if he was feeling any pain. My dad said no.
At that point, the doctor did a physical check up on my dad's abdomen. My dad went on to explain that for the first time, he had sneezed loudly and it didn't bother him. For the past two months, he couldn't take deep breaths because his lungs would press up against the tumor and cause pain. But now, he was sneezing, yawning, even sleeping on his side, which he couldn't do before.
You should have seen the look on the doctor's face. He looked at me and I concurred. The doctor was in disbelief. He said he never seen anyone cut off that much medication at once. He also said the tumor felt smaller and that my dad's body was taking to the Capecitabine quite well.
I could tell that he was still in shock, though. He asked us, "So you don't need any more pain killers, stool softener, constipation pills, hiccup pills, appetite meds?" My dad said no, we still have a lot left.
He wrote out a prescription for a two week supply of Capecitabine and told us that he would give us the number to contact the distributor directly for future doses of the chemo drug. I guess they don't have enough to distribute or something.
I then asked my dad to explain his sleepnessness and the dreams he's been having. The doctor suggested prescribing sleeping pills. At first my dad said no, but after I suggested that he should at least have some on hand just in case, my dad agreed. The doctor prescribed some light sleeping pills so my dad shouldn't be too worried.
Outside the doctor's office, my dad asked excitedly, "Did you see the doctor's expression when I told him I wasn't taking any other medication? His eyes got so big." My dad then wanted me to count how many seconds it would take for him to take a deep breath. I counted 8 seconds. He then walked over to the weight scale and measured himself. He said he had gained 2.5 kilos from the week before, when we last came to see the doctor.
My dad said, "You see, before I could only take small breaths. I couldn't even yawn really because it would hurt."
After getting the prescriptions, I went to go pay. The bill came out to be NT$11,000, which we didn't have in cash, so I had to run downstairs to the ATM and make a withdrawal. The majority of the bill was for a 2-week supply of Capecitabine. The stuff isn't cheap, I tell ya.
Walking down the hallway of the hospital, I looked over at my dad. He looked pensive, deep in thought, not like he was 10 minutes ago.
I asked him what was wrong. He said, bursting into tears, "I'm just so happy."
I told him that the results were really positive and the fact that he got his appetite back is a huge plus. We were all really happy for him.
Then he said, "These past few months have been a complete waste of time. I should yell at the doctor for putting me on that medication."
I tried to be positive, telling him that the Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide didn't shrink the size of the tumor that much, but it didn't allow the tumor to grow either. That was important because the cancer could have spread to other parts of the body and been even more difficult to stop. The difference between that and taking nothing would have surely been death.
But inside, I understood how frustrated my dad must have been. All that suffering, all that weight loss, the pain.
We had to rush back home because my mom was on her way back from the airport. My dad choked on some grape juice and said that he had to calm down from being too excited that mom was back soon. When we got back, I picked up a card for him at the bookstore. He wrote my mom a nice little note and we placed it on the living room table.
My mom arrived loud and proud. She walked in the door and went into the bedroom to hug my dad. My dad immediately started tearing. It was too much for him.
My mom didn't really know how to respond, I think. She was just like, "Ah-yo, what's the matter? Look, I brought you the clothes you wanted! And here's some cookies!"
It was funny, like she was trying to cheer up a child.
After my mom unpacked her luggage, we all went out to eat at Capone's. When we got seated, my dad was like, "We'll order a smaller pizza this time as an appetizer and split a soup and salad. Then we can each order a pasta or steak."
Well, no one ordered a steak, and we only ordered one pasta dish. My dad's eyes were bigger than his stomach. With the pizza, soup and salad, we had enough to feed all three of us, and still have leftovers.
The next day, my dad woke up tired and his right shoulder aching. He had slept on his side, and since he had lost all of his muscle tissue, his right shoulder was in pain. The Salonpas I got him didn't work. I told him he could have taken a Tramal Retard. It's a pain killer, that's what it's for. He said he was worried about being constipated from the medicine, but took one after breakfast.
My dad spent most of the day sleeping. I packed my stuff and taught my mom on how to make the Isotonix drink (which the liver cancer specialist said would do more good than harm) and dispense his medication. I told her not to worry, as my sister was coming to visit on Tuesday.
It was a tiring 10 days. And when I got back to Los Angeles, I slept for 12 hours ... straight.
Emotions Run High: Part II
Maybe it was the nagging or the bossing around. Maybe it was the talking in hushed tones, constant fussing over my dad, or the various advice on what to eat/not to eat.
Or it could of been just lack of sleep from my dad waking up hungry in the middle of the night again. Whatever it was, by Tuesday, I needed a break. I told my
dad that I might have to go out. My mom had gone, yet I felt I had gained two mothers in the meantime. My dad laughed.My aunts complimented me at lunch for doing such a great job cleaning and washing. But it wasn't much comfort. I was starting to get snappy. That afternoon, when my dad went to sleep, I went to a nearby cafe to work on the blog. When I got back, my aunts were sleeping on the couch.
For dinner, my first aunt prepared bai cai xi-fen again, per my father's request, while me and my second aunt went to go get some bentos from this restaurant around the corner. We selected a lot of vegetable and tofu dishes. I also picked up two grilled chicken thigh pieces from a Thai restaurant.
My dad really enjoyed the meal. We had all kinds of stuff, like a mini-feast. My aunts made fun of me, because I only got one boiled egg (for my dad). They said that my dad could eat it and everyone else could "liou kou sui."
But as we were all eating, he started crying unexpectedly. This totally freaked my aunts out. They were like, "What's wrong? What's going on?"
My dad didn't say anything, he just asked them to leave him be for a second. A little later, they talked about coming back the next day. It was their last day, as they were flying out at night. My dad said it wasn't necessary. They should go out to shop. My first aunt was itching to go out on the town, I could tell. My second aunt said she hadn't been back to Taipei for 15 years, but she just wanted to spend time with my dad.
I walked them out, and I asked them what time they were going to come over tomorrow. I figured that it was their last day, and if they wanted to, they should spend as much time as possible with my dad.
As I cleaned up, I told my dad that he should rest as much as he could because we should really take my aunts out to lunch. "It's their last day here," I said. He agreed.
We sat around talking about how he was feeling, Medicare, anti-oxidants, his sisters, growing up, being emotional these last few days. I asked him what made him cry today during dinner.
He said he started missing my mom again.
The next morning, I found out that my dad couldn't really sleep. One of the side effects of the Capecitabine is sleeplessness. Even if he wanted to sleep, he couldn't. He would doze off, but wake up suddenly.
He told me that he kept having this recurring dream of him playing cards with another person whose family name was also Liu. It was these intense card games, and each time he would beat the other person. Each time he won, he would wake up, sweating profusely.
"I don't know what would have happened if I had lost," he said.
I said that maybe the dream was a metaphor: the other person he was playing against was really the cancer within him, and he was mentally trying to win his life back.
At around 10 a.m., we heard my name being called from outside. My dad said, "They're back?" I laughed and let my aunts in. They came in all happy, boisterous and loud. After a few minutes with my dad, I told them that they should let my dad rest if they wanted him to be able to go out to lunch.
At 12:30, I woke up my dad. He was tired, I could tell. He wanted us to go out and get take-out food. But he could tell from the expression on my face that we should go out. I wanted him to try and get up, instead of being home all day for the second day in a row. I helped him get into his clothes and he went to the bathroom to freshen up.
Of course, we went to Taipei 101 again. On the way there, the cab driver overheard my aunts talking about some wonder-soup that's supposed to be good for the body. He started talking about what this soup and that soup, I couldn't understand all of it because he was talking in Taiwanese half the time. But he said how he drinks it every day and he's so healthy. My aunt was like, yeah it must be good because I can tell from your LOUD VOICE.
We went to the Shanghainese restaurant and ordered xiao long bao, chicken soup, sauteed green vegetables and some small dishes including bitter melon.
My aunts were laughing, having a good time. At Taipei 101, they had a little time to do some last-minute shopping. My second aunt bought my dad a book about this woman who had cancer and cured herself just by switching to a healthier diet, eating organic vegetables and certain soups.
They left close to 2 p.m. We hugged goodbye. My first aunt said, "Next time we'll stay longer." Ha-ha-ha.
My dad and I hung out in the food court downstairs. He said being outside feels good. The air is better and he can people-watch. I could tell he hasn't been as sensitive to smells and noise as he was with the first round of chemotherapy.
When we got home, we both took a nap. We were both exhausted.
Emotions Run High: Part I
Monday morning, my dad asked me to call my mom to ask her about some business stuff. Our housekeeper answered and said my mom was out at a golf tournament.Afterwards, I asked my dad if he was jealous that mom was out on a tour and playing golf. He replied, "No, I'm actually very happy for her."
Then he said how my mom doesn't make friends easily and it was hard for her to adjust to life in Shanghai. But now she gets calls from all these people asking her to do stuff.
My aunts came over at around noon, and since my dad was in good spirits, we decided to go out to eat. My second aunt likes nicer, sit-down establishments, so she suggested Taipei 101. We ended up at this Shanghainese restaurant, very close to the end of their lunch hour.
We ordered saguo yu tou soup, cao nian gao, and cai fan. The smallest bowl that the saquo yu tou soup comes in serves 10 people, but we put a pretty good dent in it.
My aunts left to take care of some business, so me and my dad hung out at Taipei 101 for a little while. Lately, my dad needs time to rest when he goes out. He can't just get up and go. He needs an hour or more to just rest his body before moving again.
We went home at around 4:30 p.m., taking the #5 little bus back to Wuxing Rd. I know that my aunts would have preferred us take the taxi, but I want my dad to feel that he can still do some things independently, even if it's with my help.
My dad told me that about a month or so ago, he went out by himself to eat. I'm not sure if he told my mom or what, but he set off on his own. Well, he had a sudden urge to go to the bathroom, and he had to ask the restaurant owner to let him use the bathroom. He was pretty desperate. We're talking small restaurant here, like hole-in-the-wall.
My dad says that he was praying "Om-yi tuo-fuo" the whole time, because he was in so much agony. He didn't even know if he could make it home. When he finally got the energy to leave the bathroom, his clothes were wet from sweating so much. He said he cried when he got home.
Occasionally, my dad will sweat a lot. I read somewhere that the liver helps regulate body temperature. In general, when we're at home, he feels hot even though he doesn't have a fever.
When we got home that day, my dad went to sit on the couch and immediately fell asleep. Within an hour, I heard my name being called outside. It was my aunts again.
I had thought they were gone for the day, but I was wrong. When they got upstairs, they said they went to Taipei 101 to look for us, but we weren't there.
We ate leftover wonton and bai cai xi-fen that evening. After my aunts left, my dad and I sat in the living room talking about his cancer and his meds. He told me to look up the Isotonix drink powder that my second aunt got him on the Internet. My aunt seems to be big on it. She wants my dad to drink 3 times the recommended dosage every day, to "catch up." She takes it regularly and swears by it, saying it makes her skin soft. Isotonix turns out to be high in anti-oxidants, although I looked at the label and it contained quite a bit of fructose sugar.
Sugar, especially refined sugar, I explained, is not good for you. Your body expends a lot of energy and B vitamins to break down sugar, so quite a bit of research says that refined sugar actually depresses the immune system.
I also explained to him the role of anti-oxidants and how some doctors believe that it could work against cancer meds. Firstly, they could repair cancer cells that are damaged on purpose by certain chemotherapy drugs, or block the efficacy of these drugs.
We agreed to take just the regular drink dosage and talk to the liver cancer specialist on Thursday to see what he says.
Somehow, the subject of my mom came up. My dad told me about how he never thought her family would help him out so much. My mom's brother really hooked him up with a reputable liver doctor, who helped get him out of the hectic emergency room and into a real hospital bed.
And then his eyes started to well up with tears. He told me when he was released from the hospital, it was my mom's birthday and he wanted to buy her a birthday cake.
"It's one thing if you don't have money to buy someone something," he said, crying. "You could get a piece of tofu - at least it shows you tried. But you feel so bad if you can't even cross the street to buy someone a cake - if you're not even physically capable of doing just that little thing."
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Wonton and Xi-fen
Sunday morning, I got up at 7 a.m. and went to check in on my dad. He was awake, having not being able to sleep, and I could tell that he was feeling really uncomfortable. I went out to buy dou jiang and xie ke huang for breakfast.
After eating breakfast, I went to the bathroom to do my business. And two minutes into my prime reading time, I hear these voices from outside calling my name. My dad calls to me and says they're here. I was irritated because it's 10 am and they just drop by unannounced, and not to mention I'm busy.
So I let them in and tell them that my dad didn't sleep last night. They're like, "Why didn't he sleep? How come you didn't sleep?" I was like, because he kept thinking about Medicare!
They were going to leave and come back later, but since my dad was also looking forward to my first aunt making wonton, I suggested they stay. My dad corrected me, wonton and bai cai xi-fen.
Making wontons in a small apartment with limited dishes and tabletop space is sooo inconvenient. We made do with what we had, but this involved washing every possible bowl or dish multiple times because you needed them for prep and for eating. I think we only had four small bowls and a few plates.
My second aunt went out to get some plastic disposable bowls and a gigantic package of take-out chopsticks. I think she's the queen of low-maintenance eating. She'd rather not deal with cleaning up or cooking.
My first aunt, on the other hand, was busy washing, chopping, cooking. I helped her in exchange for her teaching me how to make Liu-jia wonton. You could tell which ones I wrapped.
When we finally sat down to eat lunch, my dad was quite pleased. He said that within the family, he was the one who would make wonton, and he taught my first aunt. They said that my first aunt had it rough. As the eldest daughter, she would cook and clean, and when she wanted to get married, my grandfather wouldn't let her.
I asked her if nai-nai taught her how to cook. She said nai-nai didn't cook, so it was just something that they had to figure out growing up. I wondered what it would be like if your parents didn't cook, especially back in their time after the Communist Revolution. And then I remembered my dad telling me when we went to eat at Kao Chi, how he wouldn't do his homework and got his friends to help him pass his classes.
I asked him what he did with his time. He said, "Dream." I laughed and said, what did you dream about? He replied, "I dreamed about food because we were so poor, a lot of the time we were just hungry."
My dad ate quite a bit of the wonton and bai cai xi-fen, so we were all quite pleased. But we hardly made a dent in the food. There were three big plates full of uncooked wonton and a large bowl of the xi-fen left. I didn't know where we were going to put all of this stuff. After all, all we had in the apartment was a small mini-fridge. The freezer section is smaller than a toaster.
My aunts left after my dad went back to bed. To avoid what happened this morning, I asked them to call us before they come tomorrow.
My dad took a nap and I cleaned up a bit. But seeing all the leftovers, I had to figure out what to do with them. So I took the MRT to the Carrefour in Kunyang to pick up some plastic food containers and ziploc bags. I got lost getting there and had to get a cab to get there. I realized then that there was no way I was going to make it back to the MRT stop with groceries. So I asked around which bus would take me to Taipei 101 and took the 281 bus back.
Along the way home, I picked up a pork chop bento box for my dad, which he liked. After packing away all the leftovers, I went to sit with him. He kept asking me why my mom hadn't called yet. We tried several times to call the apartment in Shanghai, but no one picked up.
We looked all over for her cell phone number. I remembered I had it written down on a piece of paper in my passport wallet. At that point, I realized I couldn't find my passport! I tore apart the apartment several times looking for that thing, but no luck.
Finally, I had to wake up my girlfriend in Los Angeles to get my mom's cell phone number. I dialed the number and my mom picked up. I told her we've been trying to call her and asked where she was. She said she was on a tour!
I passed the phone to my dad, and he talked to her less than a minute when, all of a sudden, he started crying. I was shocked. He handed the phone back to me and my mom asked me what was wrong. I didn't know, and of course, she started asking, "What did you do? Did you get in an argument with him? Did you ..."
To change the topic, I asked my mom if she had my passport. When she told me no, I started to worry. She told me to check under the sofa bed. Then she told me to stop fighting with my dad.
When I got off the phone with her, I asked my dad what was wrong. He told me that he missed my mom!
Jeez, am I such bad company?
Well, it turns out my passport wallet was under the couch. I called my mom back and told her I found it. Then I told her that we missed her, and she replied, "Hu suo ba dao."
Go figure.
After eating breakfast, I went to the bathroom to do my business. And two minutes into my prime reading time, I hear these voices from outside calling my name. My dad calls to me and says they're here. I was irritated because it's 10 am and they just drop by unannounced, and not to mention I'm busy.
So I let them in and tell them that my dad didn't sleep last night. They're like, "Why didn't he sleep? How come you didn't sleep?" I was like, because he kept thinking about Medicare!
They were going to leave and come back later, but since my dad was also looking forward to my first aunt making wonton, I suggested they stay. My dad corrected me, wonton and bai cai xi-fen.
Making wontons in a small apartment with limited dishes and tabletop space is sooo inconvenient. We made do with what we had, but this involved washing every possible bowl or dish multiple times because you needed them for prep and for eating. I think we only had four small bowls and a few plates.
My second aunt went out to get some plastic disposable bowls and a gigantic package of take-out chopsticks. I think she's the queen of low-maintenance eating. She'd rather not deal with cleaning up or cooking.
My first aunt, on the other hand, was busy washing, chopping, cooking. I helped her in exchange for her teaching me how to make Liu-jia wonton. You could tell which ones I wrapped.
When we finally sat down to eat lunch, my dad was quite pleased. He said that within the family, he was the one who would make wonton, and he taught my first aunt. They said that my first aunt had it rough. As the eldest daughter, she would cook and clean, and when she wanted to get married, my grandfather wouldn't let her.
I asked her if nai-nai taught her how to cook. She said nai-nai didn't cook, so it was just something that they had to figure out growing up. I wondered what it would be like if your parents didn't cook, especially back in their time after the Communist Revolution. And then I remembered my dad telling me when we went to eat at Kao Chi, how he wouldn't do his homework and got his friends to help him pass his classes.
I asked him what he did with his time. He said, "Dream." I laughed and said, what did you dream about? He replied, "I dreamed about food because we were so poor, a lot of the time we were just hungry."
My dad ate quite a bit of the wonton and bai cai xi-fen, so we were all quite pleased. But we hardly made a dent in the food. There were three big plates full of uncooked wonton and a large bowl of the xi-fen left. I didn't know where we were going to put all of this stuff. After all, all we had in the apartment was a small mini-fridge. The freezer section is smaller than a toaster.
My aunts left after my dad went back to bed. To avoid what happened this morning, I asked them to call us before they come tomorrow.
My dad took a nap and I cleaned up a bit. But seeing all the leftovers, I had to figure out what to do with them. So I took the MRT to the Carrefour in Kunyang to pick up some plastic food containers and ziploc bags. I got lost getting there and had to get a cab to get there. I realized then that there was no way I was going to make it back to the MRT stop with groceries. So I asked around which bus would take me to Taipei 101 and took the 281 bus back.
Along the way home, I picked up a pork chop bento box for my dad, which he liked. After packing away all the leftovers, I went to sit with him. He kept asking me why my mom hadn't called yet. We tried several times to call the apartment in Shanghai, but no one picked up.
We looked all over for her cell phone number. I remembered I had it written down on a piece of paper in my passport wallet. At that point, I realized I couldn't find my passport! I tore apart the apartment several times looking for that thing, but no luck.
Finally, I had to wake up my girlfriend in Los Angeles to get my mom's cell phone number. I dialed the number and my mom picked up. I told her we've been trying to call her and asked where she was. She said she was on a tour!
I passed the phone to my dad, and he talked to her less than a minute when, all of a sudden, he started crying. I was shocked. He handed the phone back to me and my mom asked me what was wrong. I didn't know, and of course, she started asking, "What did you do? Did you get in an argument with him? Did you ..."
To change the topic, I asked my mom if she had my passport. When she told me no, I started to worry. She told me to check under the sofa bed. Then she told me to stop fighting with my dad.
When I got off the phone with her, I asked my dad what was wrong. He told me that he missed my mom!
Jeez, am I such bad company?
Well, it turns out my passport wallet was under the couch. I called my mom back and told her I found it. Then I told her that we missed her, and she replied, "Hu suo ba dao."
Go figure.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Aunties Arrive
On Saturday, I got up at 8 am, later that usual, because I wanted to rest. When I got up to go to the bathroom, the phone rang. It was my first aunt from Toronto. In a loud, booming voice she said, “Jeff, zhe si da niang-niang.” I had to hold the phone away from me because her voice was so loud. She told me that she and my second aunt from San Jose were going to come over at noon.
After hanging up, I started getting ready. By his request, I made a seafood omelette for my dad, using the toppings from last night’s pizza. It was a failed attempt at an omelette, as the non-stick pan lost its non-stickness and it turned out to be more of an egg scramble. I heated up the now-turned cheese pizza for him to eat as toast and poured him a glass of organic Concord grape juice. He didn’t finish the eggs – as it wasn’t quite fluffy enough – but he did have a glass of milk after his grape juice.
My dad took a nap to save up energy for the later arrival of my aunts. I too got ready – I swept the floor, cleaned the toilet and the bathroom sink, washed the dishes, did a load of laundry. I know that if anything is out of order with anyone in my family, I won’t hear the end of it for days ... or worse, years.
They arrived at around lunchtime, bringing with them a bag of about 20 lianmu fruit, a box of ginseng tea, six bottles of this Isotonix vitamin drink powder, in addition to the organic penne pasta, tomato sauce and pumpkin spice granola that I had requested from my sister. We could have opened up a supermarket in our one bedroom apartment.
My first aunt from Toronto and I went out to buy lunch. I remember my mom saying that there was a dao xiao mian place around the corner. So we went there and me, not knowing how to read Chinese except niou rou mian, ordered that for me and my dad. Plus, he told me yesterday that he wanted to eat some beef. This little thing turned out to be one of those moments you never hear the end of.
After lunch, we went to Taipei 101 to have some coffee and hang out. When my dad went to the bathroom, my aunts were like, “Jeff, you shouldn’t let your dad eat anything too salty." I said yeah, I know. They said, well, you shouldn’t have let him eat niou rou mian. Or next time dilute the soup with water. And when you go out, make sure you ask them not to put any MSG in his food …
Oh boy ... this is going to be a long week.
Around dinnertime, we thought it'd be better to just eat in at Taipei 101. I surveyed the fourth floor for restaurant options that fulfilled my dad's request: meat. My dad told me the day before that he had been wanting a good steak, so we ended up going to Tony Diamond’s Italian Restaurant in Taipei 101. All their steaks came with sauce and so he ordered one with pesto. I requested that the sauce be put on the side.
Luckily I did because he didn’t like the pesto, thought it was too salty. He would’ve been fine with just eating the steak, but he had dropped his fork and well, he then had a grudge. I picked it up and a minute later he said where’s the fork that I dropped. I said that I had it. He said that the manager was poorly trained. I asked why, and he replied that the manager saw him drop his fork and should have come over to replace it. Instead, the manager just walked on by. My dad then had the look. The look where he’s scanning the room looking for a target.
Well, a few minutes later, he called over the waitress and told her: 1. The pesto was too salty 2. The corn wasn’t cooked enough and 3. The string beans were too firm.
The manager came, apologized and replaced the pesto sauce with a mushroom sauce (they didn’t cook the vegetables again). So when he got the sauce, I tasted it and said that it had a sweet flavor, but was still kind of salty, like a gravy.
He proceeded to dunk pieces of his steak into this gravy. So I said, hey, you should be careful, it’s still salty. He looked at me and just waived his hand like, Don’t tell me not to eat it ‘cuz I’m gonna eat it; it’s just a little and it’s my body and I want to do what I want. Just fuhgeddaboudit.
I looked around and there was no one there to back me up ...
It was a pretty good steak for NT$600.
That night, my dad couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure whether it's because of the coffee he drank or what. I heard him get up at 2 a.m., then again at 4 a.m. when he took leftover niou rou mian out of the fridge to eat. He was fiddling with the plastic bag surrounding the container and it quickly became annoying. I got up and thought Oh my God, he's trying to cook. I told him to go sit down, and heated up the noodles for him although I was half asleep.
When I asked him why he couldn't sleep, he said he was engrossed in thinking about going back to the U.S. in October, when he turns 65 and qualifies for government Medicare insurance. After talking with my second aunt, he had suddenly become interested.
Prior to her arrival, she mentioned this to me over the phone and I was instantly aware that she would plant this in his mind. I don't know why, but I just had this feeling. I asked my dad a few weeks ago if he wanted to move back and he said that he didn't want to. "Never," is what he said. He didn't want to live the kind of life he had in the States, where one has to struggle to maintain their quality of life.
I remember on Christmas Eve in Shanghai, my parents took me to eat niou rou mian at this tiny shop. The owner and his friends who ran it seemed to all be from Taiwan. But they were like my dad: They moved from Taiwan to the U.S., worked, retired and moved to Shanghai, while their kids stayed in the States.
The owner of that niou rou mian shop also said he would never go back for the same reason. Shanghai, to them, is a place where they feel comfortable, and can relax, and pursue small business ventures that won't put them out on the street if they didn't succeed.
But he changed his mind about moving back to the States. He is now considering it. Not that I'm advocating that choice, but sometimes I wonder what my aunt said to him. In Chinese, you say that she is li hai.
I just wished he didn't lose a whole night's sleep over it.
After hanging up, I started getting ready. By his request, I made a seafood omelette for my dad, using the toppings from last night’s pizza. It was a failed attempt at an omelette, as the non-stick pan lost its non-stickness and it turned out to be more of an egg scramble. I heated up the now-turned cheese pizza for him to eat as toast and poured him a glass of organic Concord grape juice. He didn’t finish the eggs – as it wasn’t quite fluffy enough – but he did have a glass of milk after his grape juice.
My dad took a nap to save up energy for the later arrival of my aunts. I too got ready – I swept the floor, cleaned the toilet and the bathroom sink, washed the dishes, did a load of laundry. I know that if anything is out of order with anyone in my family, I won’t hear the end of it for days ... or worse, years.
They arrived at around lunchtime, bringing with them a bag of about 20 lianmu fruit, a box of ginseng tea, six bottles of this Isotonix vitamin drink powder, in addition to the organic penne pasta, tomato sauce and pumpkin spice granola that I had requested from my sister. We could have opened up a supermarket in our one bedroom apartment.
My first aunt from Toronto and I went out to buy lunch. I remember my mom saying that there was a dao xiao mian place around the corner. So we went there and me, not knowing how to read Chinese except niou rou mian, ordered that for me and my dad. Plus, he told me yesterday that he wanted to eat some beef. This little thing turned out to be one of those moments you never hear the end of.
After lunch, we went to Taipei 101 to have some coffee and hang out. When my dad went to the bathroom, my aunts were like, “Jeff, you shouldn’t let your dad eat anything too salty." I said yeah, I know. They said, well, you shouldn’t have let him eat niou rou mian. Or next time dilute the soup with water. And when you go out, make sure you ask them not to put any MSG in his food …
Oh boy ... this is going to be a long week.
Around dinnertime, we thought it'd be better to just eat in at Taipei 101. I surveyed the fourth floor for restaurant options that fulfilled my dad's request: meat. My dad told me the day before that he had been wanting a good steak, so we ended up going to Tony Diamond’s Italian Restaurant in Taipei 101. All their steaks came with sauce and so he ordered one with pesto. I requested that the sauce be put on the side.
Luckily I did because he didn’t like the pesto, thought it was too salty. He would’ve been fine with just eating the steak, but he had dropped his fork and well, he then had a grudge. I picked it up and a minute later he said where’s the fork that I dropped. I said that I had it. He said that the manager was poorly trained. I asked why, and he replied that the manager saw him drop his fork and should have come over to replace it. Instead, the manager just walked on by. My dad then had the look. The look where he’s scanning the room looking for a target.
Well, a few minutes later, he called over the waitress and told her: 1. The pesto was too salty 2. The corn wasn’t cooked enough and 3. The string beans were too firm.
The manager came, apologized and replaced the pesto sauce with a mushroom sauce (they didn’t cook the vegetables again). So when he got the sauce, I tasted it and said that it had a sweet flavor, but was still kind of salty, like a gravy.
He proceeded to dunk pieces of his steak into this gravy. So I said, hey, you should be careful, it’s still salty. He looked at me and just waived his hand like, Don’t tell me not to eat it ‘cuz I’m gonna eat it; it’s just a little and it’s my body and I want to do what I want. Just fuhgeddaboudit.
I looked around and there was no one there to back me up ...
It was a pretty good steak for NT$600.
That night, my dad couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure whether it's because of the coffee he drank or what. I heard him get up at 2 a.m., then again at 4 a.m. when he took leftover niou rou mian out of the fridge to eat. He was fiddling with the plastic bag surrounding the container and it quickly became annoying. I got up and thought Oh my God, he's trying to cook. I told him to go sit down, and heated up the noodles for him although I was half asleep.
When I asked him why he couldn't sleep, he said he was engrossed in thinking about going back to the U.S. in October, when he turns 65 and qualifies for government Medicare insurance. After talking with my second aunt, he had suddenly become interested.
Prior to her arrival, she mentioned this to me over the phone and I was instantly aware that she would plant this in his mind. I don't know why, but I just had this feeling. I asked my dad a few weeks ago if he wanted to move back and he said that he didn't want to. "Never," is what he said. He didn't want to live the kind of life he had in the States, where one has to struggle to maintain their quality of life.
I remember on Christmas Eve in Shanghai, my parents took me to eat niou rou mian at this tiny shop. The owner and his friends who ran it seemed to all be from Taiwan. But they were like my dad: They moved from Taiwan to the U.S., worked, retired and moved to Shanghai, while their kids stayed in the States.
The owner of that niou rou mian shop also said he would never go back for the same reason. Shanghai, to them, is a place where they feel comfortable, and can relax, and pursue small business ventures that won't put them out on the street if they didn't succeed.
But he changed his mind about moving back to the States. He is now considering it. Not that I'm advocating that choice, but sometimes I wonder what my aunt said to him. In Chinese, you say that she is li hai.
I just wished he didn't lose a whole night's sleep over it.
First Week Back With Dad: Part II
On Friday, my dad had for breakfast orange-mango juice, a piece of toast and two eggs over easy, by request. For me, breakfast is the easiest meal of the day to make. I think in a previous life, we must have been farmers because my family loves to eat eggs. I once asked my sister the most she ate in one day. She said she had 8!
After breakfast, he asked for some pineapple. My mom had cut some up for him yesterday morning. About an hour later, he complained about his mouth hurting and bleeding. I put two-and-two together and I realized why he felt the liang mian the day before was spicy. His mouth was bleeding then too. He had eaten pineapple before lunch so obviously it was this fruit that was causing him so much pain. I pointed this out to him and we both agreed that he was not to eat anymore.
For lunch, I figured he wouldn't want anything hard or would require a lot of chewing, so I went out and got shui jiao from this place next door. They make great baozi and frozen dumplings for you to cook at home. I also made a kaiyang danhua soup, to balance it off. My dad had 7 jiaozi and two small bowls of soup. It seems like he was getting his appetite back.
Later that afternoon following his nap, I wanted to go to Bo Ai Lu, Taipei's camera district, to buy some black and white film. My dad said he would come along, so we took the #22 bus to Taipei Main Station and walked 3 blocks to the district. On the way there, my dad tried out a few canes, and bought a collapsible one for NT$400. It's kind of cool - it pulls apart into four pieces which you fold into a bag. Then when you take it out, it snaps together by itself.
When we got to Bo Ai Lu, my dad said he would wait for me at a place around there and have a snack. I told him that I would walk him, that way I would know where he is. He insisted that I don't, saying that I would be wasting time by going with him, and to just call when I'm done.
About an hour later, after successfully navigating about 30 shops, I called him to see where he was so that we could go eat dinner. I called about 4 times and no answer. Then on the fifth try, he picked up. I asked him where he was. He said "McDonalds." McDonalds!!!
After what happened the day before, I was really pissed off. Fuming. I got there and he was sitting reading a newspaper. I asked him, of all the places here, why did he choose McDonalds? He asked me what the big deal was.
I said, "You know it's not good for you."
He replied, "All I'm having is a snack."
An ice cream sundae, half a chicken sandwich and a drink at 5 p.m. is not really a snack, is it? I said I felt like he was trying to sneak a trip to McDonalds because he knew I wouldn't approve. And then I told him I was particularly incensed because we were supposed to go eat pizza after going to Bo Ai Lu. He said that we could still go.
So we took the MRT to the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial and I brought him to this place called Capone's. The place wasn't gangsta, but I felt like cappin' someone. We started arguing again after sitting down. I told him that if he wants to eat hamburgers, that's fine. It's his body, after all. But of all the places that he could eat at, why does he choose the place with the worst food for him?
We ordered a large seafood pizza, a soup for him and a salad for me. He had two slices of pizza and ate most of the soup. It was actually pretty decent thin-crust pizza. At around 7:30 p.m., more people started coming in. The waiter said that there was a band playing at 9:30, but we left at 8 p.m.
When we got home, I gave him his medicine, and that was a struggle. He's supposed to be taking 3 tablets of Capecitabine, 1 tablet of Tramal Retard, 2 tablets of Magnesium Oxide, and one Prometin. He just wanted to take the Capecitabine. He reasoned that he wasn't in pain, he was pooing normally, and he wasn't feeling nauseous. My dad added that the Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide trial didn't allow him to deviate from his prescribed regimen, but now he can.
Thinking about how he's been doing, and how his appetite has been pretty good, I told him fine. I've also seen how the drugs have been controlling him and making him feel just plain uncomfortable. We ultimately want him to be comfortable, right?
Right. And ultimately, I wanted some sleep. Because the next day, the aunties were to arrive ...
After breakfast, he asked for some pineapple. My mom had cut some up for him yesterday morning. About an hour later, he complained about his mouth hurting and bleeding. I put two-and-two together and I realized why he felt the liang mian the day before was spicy. His mouth was bleeding then too. He had eaten pineapple before lunch so obviously it was this fruit that was causing him so much pain. I pointed this out to him and we both agreed that he was not to eat anymore.
For lunch, I figured he wouldn't want anything hard or would require a lot of chewing, so I went out and got shui jiao from this place next door. They make great baozi and frozen dumplings for you to cook at home. I also made a kaiyang danhua soup, to balance it off. My dad had 7 jiaozi and two small bowls of soup. It seems like he was getting his appetite back.
Later that afternoon following his nap, I wanted to go to Bo Ai Lu, Taipei's camera district, to buy some black and white film. My dad said he would come along, so we took the #22 bus to Taipei Main Station and walked 3 blocks to the district. On the way there, my dad tried out a few canes, and bought a collapsible one for NT$400. It's kind of cool - it pulls apart into four pieces which you fold into a bag. Then when you take it out, it snaps together by itself.
When we got to Bo Ai Lu, my dad said he would wait for me at a place around there and have a snack. I told him that I would walk him, that way I would know where he is. He insisted that I don't, saying that I would be wasting time by going with him, and to just call when I'm done.
About an hour later, after successfully navigating about 30 shops, I called him to see where he was so that we could go eat dinner. I called about 4 times and no answer. Then on the fifth try, he picked up. I asked him where he was. He said "McDonalds." McDonalds!!!
After what happened the day before, I was really pissed off. Fuming. I got there and he was sitting reading a newspaper. I asked him, of all the places here, why did he choose McDonalds? He asked me what the big deal was.
I said, "You know it's not good for you."
He replied, "All I'm having is a snack."
An ice cream sundae, half a chicken sandwich and a drink at 5 p.m. is not really a snack, is it? I said I felt like he was trying to sneak a trip to McDonalds because he knew I wouldn't approve. And then I told him I was particularly incensed because we were supposed to go eat pizza after going to Bo Ai Lu. He said that we could still go.
So we took the MRT to the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial and I brought him to this place called Capone's. The place wasn't gangsta, but I felt like cappin' someone. We started arguing again after sitting down. I told him that if he wants to eat hamburgers, that's fine. It's his body, after all. But of all the places that he could eat at, why does he choose the place with the worst food for him?
We ordered a large seafood pizza, a soup for him and a salad for me. He had two slices of pizza and ate most of the soup. It was actually pretty decent thin-crust pizza. At around 7:30 p.m., more people started coming in. The waiter said that there was a band playing at 9:30, but we left at 8 p.m.
When we got home, I gave him his medicine, and that was a struggle. He's supposed to be taking 3 tablets of Capecitabine, 1 tablet of Tramal Retard, 2 tablets of Magnesium Oxide, and one Prometin. He just wanted to take the Capecitabine. He reasoned that he wasn't in pain, he was pooing normally, and he wasn't feeling nauseous. My dad added that the Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide trial didn't allow him to deviate from his prescribed regimen, but now he can.
Thinking about how he's been doing, and how his appetite has been pretty good, I told him fine. I've also seen how the drugs have been controlling him and making him feel just plain uncomfortable. We ultimately want him to be comfortable, right?
Right. And ultimately, I wanted some sleep. Because the next day, the aunties were to arrive ...
Monday, March 26, 2007
First Week Back With Dad: Part I
Hi everyone, I'm in Taipei right now. I arrived last Monday. A lot has happened in the past week, so I have a great deal to write about. I just haven't had a lot of time to write about all this.
I arrived Monday at 6 a.m. and took the bus to the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial. From there, I took a short taxi ride to Wu Xing Road, where my parents are renting an apartment. From the pictures, you can tell that it's not that big, but a pretty decent size for two people.
I walked in and saw my dad sitting at the desk in the bedroom. I went to hug him, but to be honest, I was really shocked. When I got closer, I saw that he had lost so much weight. I couldn't even recognize him - he looked like he just got out of a concentration camp.
He was skin and bones: his jaw and chin was smaller, the dimples had disappeared, and his eyes - his eyes were big and round. His eyes said everything. They told me that the medication had taken a hard toll and it was, as he said, controlling him.
I had never seen my dad in such a frail state. I wanted to cry, but I held back, forcing myself to be happy to see him. I finally had to leave the room so that I could give myself some time to take all of this in.
I learned from my mom that the results from his ultrasound and CT scans came back with little positive results. The Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide combination kept the tumor in check, but its size was still quite large. The drugs were also making him dizzy and causing him to throw up. The drugs also made him constipated, so when he didn't go poo, he was reluctant to eat.
The cancer specialist took him off the cancer meds the week of the 15th. He presented a number of alternatives: Sorafenib, Bevacizumab, Capecitabine, Erlotinb (I wonder who comes up with these names), and said that we could research them and decide which one to take. He still prescribed all the other medication for my dad: the pain killer Tramal Retard, Magnesium Oxide, Prometin and Lasix. When I arrived, my dad started to refuse to eat some of these pills, which were for the side effects of the pain killer and cancer drugs.
The next day, my sister called and I asked her to pick up some things for my dad that I hadn't considered bringing: green tea, spaghetti sauce, pasta, granola, a toaster, bagels. My mom warned me that they didn't have a lot of dishes, let alone a towel for me. But being there, I saw that there were many comfort foods for my dad which Taipei didn't have. Or they had, but it just wasn't the same as back in the States.
That day, me and my mom went to the Chunghwa Telecom office to setup DSL internet service at home. On the way back, we stopped at this place called New York Bagels. Wondering if it was any good, we ordered to go a turkey sandwich on an onion bagel and a roast beef sandwich on my dad's favorite: sesame bagel. It turned out to be pretty good, my dad finishing 3/4 of his sandwich.
That afternoon, we went to go see the liver doctor. He said that the cancer specialist did the right thing by taking my dad off the Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide treatment. He said that a cancer patient has a window of opportunity to neutralize the tumor before it spreads. Once it spreads, cancer becomes really difficult to treat and creates a lot more problems.
After sharing the list of cancer drugs the specialist had provided as options, he advised us to go by the cancer specialist's recommendation. My dad then asked about using acupuncture to help relieve some of the side effects. The doctor neither said it was a good idea nor disapproved. He just said that since my dad isn't in the experimental trials for the Tegafur-Thalidomide combination, my dad has more control over his treatments. My dad can say, "This is making me feel ill and I would like to switch," and he could.
On the flip side, he now has to pay for these medications, as they aren't covered by Taiwan's health care system, or covered only partially.
That evening, my dad started hiccuping uncontrollably for some reason. We think it's from him cutting off his medication. By this time, he said he didn't even need to take the pain killer and so he refused to take it despite the doctor's orders. We tried several different things to stop the hiccuping, but it didn't really work.
It went away, but it came back at night. Sleeping next to him on the bed, he would wake me up with his incessant hiccups. The next day, the hiccups became more frequent. Holding his breath wouldn't help. Breathing in a brown paper bag wouldn't help. Eating sometimes helped.
You could tell that he was annoyed and was losing sleep over it. Wednesday night, I slept outside on the sofa bed with my mom. But my dad woke me up each time he started hiccuping. I got up each time at 2 a.m., 4 a.m., and 6 a.m., to get him some warm water, which helped.
Needless to say, I was getting cranky because I didn't sleep well those past two nights. On Thursday, my mom was leaving for Shanghai, so she was busy packing and getting ready to go. I made liang mian, with organic wheat noodles. My mom ate, hugged us goodbye and headed off to the airport.
So, of course, my dad and I got in an argument no less than 30 minutes after my mom left. We were arguing over him not eating lunch. He said it was too spicy. I said you didn’t even try it. Then he said he wanted to cry because his whole mouth burned.
I told him that he was making excuses not to eat, and that if he wants to prepare himself for the next round of chemo, he better gain some weight back. He said that he wasn’t making excuses, adding that my mom had told me to come and he didn’t ask me to come. Then he told me to get out of the room.
You know how a child tests you to see if they can get away with something? I felt the same way here. I felt that since my mom left, he feels he can do whatever he wants. She was controlling his diet, and he probably felt like he was being held hostage because she wouldn’t let him eat pizza or a hamburger or anything he knows he's not supposed to eat.
That afternoon, we went to the cancer specialist. I was pretty mad still, then annoyed because my dad started hiccuping on the busride over to the hospital. As if my life couldn't get any more unpredictable, there was this mentally ill woman who sat in front of me and was having elaborate conversations with herself.
But when we met with the doctor, I tried to focus on the tasks at hand. We talked about his diet and how he's been doing this past week without his cancer medication. We then went over the meds that he had suggested last time and the costs of each.
Finally, the cancer specialist suggested my dad take Capecitabine and wrote a prescription out. My dad was still hiccuping and the doctor wrote a prescription for that too.
When we got back from the hospital, my dad wanted to eat. I pointed out that it was 5 p.m. and asked if this was dinner for him. He said no, and I got irritated because he was going to throw off his entire eating schedule.
So he ate mi fen at this place around the corner. We went back home and I passed out until about 9 p.m. I accompanied my dad to get something to eat, but I was still pretty wiped out and not hungry at all. This was, after all, the first day without my mom.
I arrived Monday at 6 a.m. and took the bus to the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial. From there, I took a short taxi ride to Wu Xing Road, where my parents are renting an apartment. From the pictures, you can tell that it's not that big, but a pretty decent size for two people.
I walked in and saw my dad sitting at the desk in the bedroom. I went to hug him, but to be honest, I was really shocked. When I got closer, I saw that he had lost so much weight. I couldn't even recognize him - he looked like he just got out of a concentration camp.
He was skin and bones: his jaw and chin was smaller, the dimples had disappeared, and his eyes - his eyes were big and round. His eyes said everything. They told me that the medication had taken a hard toll and it was, as he said, controlling him.
I had never seen my dad in such a frail state. I wanted to cry, but I held back, forcing myself to be happy to see him. I finally had to leave the room so that I could give myself some time to take all of this in.
I learned from my mom that the results from his ultrasound and CT scans came back with little positive results. The Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide combination kept the tumor in check, but its size was still quite large. The drugs were also making him dizzy and causing him to throw up. The drugs also made him constipated, so when he didn't go poo, he was reluctant to eat.
The cancer specialist took him off the cancer meds the week of the 15th. He presented a number of alternatives: Sorafenib, Bevacizumab, Capecitabine, Erlotinb (I wonder who comes up with these names), and said that we could research them and decide which one to take. He still prescribed all the other medication for my dad: the pain killer Tramal Retard, Magnesium Oxide, Prometin and Lasix. When I arrived, my dad started to refuse to eat some of these pills, which were for the side effects of the pain killer and cancer drugs.
The next day, my sister called and I asked her to pick up some things for my dad that I hadn't considered bringing: green tea, spaghetti sauce, pasta, granola, a toaster, bagels. My mom warned me that they didn't have a lot of dishes, let alone a towel for me. But being there, I saw that there were many comfort foods for my dad which Taipei didn't have. Or they had, but it just wasn't the same as back in the States.
That day, me and my mom went to the Chunghwa Telecom office to setup DSL internet service at home. On the way back, we stopped at this place called New York Bagels. Wondering if it was any good, we ordered to go a turkey sandwich on an onion bagel and a roast beef sandwich on my dad's favorite: sesame bagel. It turned out to be pretty good, my dad finishing 3/4 of his sandwich.
That afternoon, we went to go see the liver doctor. He said that the cancer specialist did the right thing by taking my dad off the Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide treatment. He said that a cancer patient has a window of opportunity to neutralize the tumor before it spreads. Once it spreads, cancer becomes really difficult to treat and creates a lot more problems.
After sharing the list of cancer drugs the specialist had provided as options, he advised us to go by the cancer specialist's recommendation. My dad then asked about using acupuncture to help relieve some of the side effects. The doctor neither said it was a good idea nor disapproved. He just said that since my dad isn't in the experimental trials for the Tegafur-Thalidomide combination, my dad has more control over his treatments. My dad can say, "This is making me feel ill and I would like to switch," and he could.
On the flip side, he now has to pay for these medications, as they aren't covered by Taiwan's health care system, or covered only partially.
That evening, my dad started hiccuping uncontrollably for some reason. We think it's from him cutting off his medication. By this time, he said he didn't even need to take the pain killer and so he refused to take it despite the doctor's orders. We tried several different things to stop the hiccuping, but it didn't really work.
It went away, but it came back at night. Sleeping next to him on the bed, he would wake me up with his incessant hiccups. The next day, the hiccups became more frequent. Holding his breath wouldn't help. Breathing in a brown paper bag wouldn't help. Eating sometimes helped.
You could tell that he was annoyed and was losing sleep over it. Wednesday night, I slept outside on the sofa bed with my mom. But my dad woke me up each time he started hiccuping. I got up each time at 2 a.m., 4 a.m., and 6 a.m., to get him some warm water, which helped.
Needless to say, I was getting cranky because I didn't sleep well those past two nights. On Thursday, my mom was leaving for Shanghai, so she was busy packing and getting ready to go. I made liang mian, with organic wheat noodles. My mom ate, hugged us goodbye and headed off to the airport.
So, of course, my dad and I got in an argument no less than 30 minutes after my mom left. We were arguing over him not eating lunch. He said it was too spicy. I said you didn’t even try it. Then he said he wanted to cry because his whole mouth burned.
I told him that he was making excuses not to eat, and that if he wants to prepare himself for the next round of chemo, he better gain some weight back. He said that he wasn’t making excuses, adding that my mom had told me to come and he didn’t ask me to come. Then he told me to get out of the room.
You know how a child tests you to see if they can get away with something? I felt the same way here. I felt that since my mom left, he feels he can do whatever he wants. She was controlling his diet, and he probably felt like he was being held hostage because she wouldn’t let him eat pizza or a hamburger or anything he knows he's not supposed to eat.
That afternoon, we went to the cancer specialist. I was pretty mad still, then annoyed because my dad started hiccuping on the busride over to the hospital. As if my life couldn't get any more unpredictable, there was this mentally ill woman who sat in front of me and was having elaborate conversations with herself.
But when we met with the doctor, I tried to focus on the tasks at hand. We talked about his diet and how he's been doing this past week without his cancer medication. We then went over the meds that he had suggested last time and the costs of each.
Finally, the cancer specialist suggested my dad take Capecitabine and wrote a prescription out. My dad was still hiccuping and the doctor wrote a prescription for that too.
When we got back from the hospital, my dad wanted to eat. I pointed out that it was 5 p.m. and asked if this was dinner for him. He said no, and I got irritated because he was going to throw off his entire eating schedule.
So he ate mi fen at this place around the corner. We went back home and I passed out until about 9 p.m. I accompanied my dad to get something to eat, but I was still pretty wiped out and not hungry at all. This was, after all, the first day without my mom.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Laundry List
I talked to my dad on Friday night. He and my mom sound like they are in better spirits. I told them that I would be leaving in a week to go see them. Of course, they gave me a laundry list of stuff to bring.
My mom asked for a water filter that attaches to the kitchen faucet. My dad wants me to get him an electric toothbrush for himself and a couple of boxes of chocolate for the doctors and nurses that have been helping him. He said he doesn't want any more clothes since last time I brought him stuff, all of the shirts didn't fit because he lost so much weight.
On Friday, he had a blood test and an ultrasound, but he has to wait until this week to get the results. Will report more when I found out more.
Now I have to go shopping.
My mom asked for a water filter that attaches to the kitchen faucet. My dad wants me to get him an electric toothbrush for himself and a couple of boxes of chocolate for the doctors and nurses that have been helping him. He said he doesn't want any more clothes since last time I brought him stuff, all of the shirts didn't fit because he lost so much weight.
On Friday, he had a blood test and an ultrasound, but he has to wait until this week to get the results. Will report more when I found out more.
Now I have to go shopping.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Chinese New Year Blowout
I know it's been a long time since I have written. Things have gotten busy with work, and frankly I haven't been in the mood to write.
I called my parents about 2 weeks ago for Chinese New Year's and my mom basically yelled at me for 10 minutes. I don't know if it's because she's mad or because here hearing isn't so good. Probably both.
Then my dad reiterated what she said. It seems that they are concerned about people visiting them. Since my dad is sick, it's not like he can entertain them, take them out or talk to them for a long time. He's just not in good enough shape to do this. And then my mom doesn't want to have to be put in the position of having to cook and entertain any guests.
From what I can tell, they are both under a lot of stress. The job of preparing meals for my dad has been challenging for my mom. While they were in Shanghai, she didn't cook very often because it was just two people, and they had an ayi who is a great cook.
My parents even told me that I shouldn't come. "You can't cook. You'll be no help," my mom said.
Well, I can cook ... I've just never had to prepare 3 meals a day for someone else.
My mom also got the latest blood test results from the doctor. A lot of it she can't understand and I'm having trouble translating the medical terms from Chinese to English. But basically, once he started the chemotherapy, it's had a positive effect:
From what I researched, GOT and GPT are both transaminases, or enzymes that enter the blood in large quantities only when the cells that make and house them become destroyed. High levels of GOT and GPT mean that liver cells are damaged. ALP is an enzyme found in all cells, but particularly in high concentrations in liver cells and can indicate whether a person's liver is damaged.
As you can see, the decrease in these enzymes, as well as his white blood cell count, is a good sign. However, the numbers, I believe are still higher than normal.
My father says that since I left, he's thrown up his food at least once a week. However, ever since he's been taking the new drugs - Prometin and Farlutal - he's gotten his appetite back.
I don't know if that's a good thing. The day I called, my dad wanted to eat egg rolls. My mom said no. Then he wanted to eat pizza. She wouldn't get it for him. Then he got mad.
"This medicine makes me feel this way," he said. "Sometimes my temper's not good. Sometimes I can't control my temper."
Well, speaking from experience, I can't say that his temper was ever very good.
For the past week, it's been difficult getting in touch with my parents. They either weren't picking up my dad's cell phone or it was turned off. Then on Thursday night, my sister called me and said that my mom called her with a new phone number. Apparently they got in a fight and the cell phone ... well, let's just say it explains why we couldn't get through to them.
I called my parents on Friday night and my mom seemed stressed out, tired, sad. She didn't say much about the cell phone or the fight. Neither did my dad.
He sounded tired and he kept talking about how the medication "controls you."
"You are so tired. It's not that you're really tired. It's the medicine that makes you tired," he said.
My mom reported that my dad's been gaining weight because of the new meds, and told the doctor that he wants to stop taking the Farlutal.
This Friday, he's going to be getting an ultrasound and another blood test. The ultrasound will show if there's been some real progress in reducing the size of the tumor in his liver. My dad says that if the progress isn't significant, they may switch chemotherapy drugs.
Keep your fingers crossed. As for me, I might be heading to Taipei in a few weeks to help relieve my mom. Well, I dunno - she doesn't want me to go, she wants me to go, ...
I called my parents about 2 weeks ago for Chinese New Year's and my mom basically yelled at me for 10 minutes. I don't know if it's because she's mad or because here hearing isn't so good. Probably both.
Then my dad reiterated what she said. It seems that they are concerned about people visiting them. Since my dad is sick, it's not like he can entertain them, take them out or talk to them for a long time. He's just not in good enough shape to do this. And then my mom doesn't want to have to be put in the position of having to cook and entertain any guests.
From what I can tell, they are both under a lot of stress. The job of preparing meals for my dad has been challenging for my mom. While they were in Shanghai, she didn't cook very often because it was just two people, and they had an ayi who is a great cook.
My parents even told me that I shouldn't come. "You can't cook. You'll be no help," my mom said.
Well, I can cook ... I've just never had to prepare 3 meals a day for someone else.
My mom also got the latest blood test results from the doctor. A lot of it she can't understand and I'm having trouble translating the medical terms from Chinese to English. But basically, once he started the chemotherapy, it's had a positive effect:
| 11/1/07 | 31/1/07 | 14/2/07 | ||||||||||||||||
Glutamic-Oxaloacetic Transaminase (GOT) | 95 | 42 | 36 | |||||||||||||||
Glutamic-Pyruvic Transaminase (GPT) | 124 | 35 | 31 | |||||||||||||||
Alkaline Phosphatase (ALP) | 655 | 370 | 276 | |||||||||||||||
White Blood Cells | 16,200 | 6,700 | 6,800 | |||||||||||||||
Red Blood Cells | 10.7 | 11.7 | 10.4 |
From what I researched, GOT and GPT are both transaminases, or enzymes that enter the blood in large quantities only when the cells that make and house them become destroyed. High levels of GOT and GPT mean that liver cells are damaged. ALP is an enzyme found in all cells, but particularly in high concentrations in liver cells and can indicate whether a person's liver is damaged.
As you can see, the decrease in these enzymes, as well as his white blood cell count, is a good sign. However, the numbers, I believe are still higher than normal.
My father says that since I left, he's thrown up his food at least once a week. However, ever since he's been taking the new drugs - Prometin and Farlutal - he's gotten his appetite back.
I don't know if that's a good thing. The day I called, my dad wanted to eat egg rolls. My mom said no. Then he wanted to eat pizza. She wouldn't get it for him. Then he got mad.
"This medicine makes me feel this way," he said. "Sometimes my temper's not good. Sometimes I can't control my temper."
Well, speaking from experience, I can't say that his temper was ever very good.
For the past week, it's been difficult getting in touch with my parents. They either weren't picking up my dad's cell phone or it was turned off. Then on Thursday night, my sister called me and said that my mom called her with a new phone number. Apparently they got in a fight and the cell phone ... well, let's just say it explains why we couldn't get through to them.
I called my parents on Friday night and my mom seemed stressed out, tired, sad. She didn't say much about the cell phone or the fight. Neither did my dad.
He sounded tired and he kept talking about how the medication "controls you."
"You are so tired. It's not that you're really tired. It's the medicine that makes you tired," he said.
My mom reported that my dad's been gaining weight because of the new meds, and told the doctor that he wants to stop taking the Farlutal.
This Friday, he's going to be getting an ultrasound and another blood test. The ultrasound will show if there's been some real progress in reducing the size of the tumor in his liver. My dad says that if the progress isn't significant, they may switch chemotherapy drugs.
Keep your fingers crossed. As for me, I might be heading to Taipei in a few weeks to help relieve my mom. Well, I dunno - she doesn't want me to go, she wants me to go, ...
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Found a Place
Good news! I spoke to my parents last night and they just signed a lease for an apartment! Woohoo!I was worried there for a little bit, since there weren't any new prospects and it looked like they would have to stay longer in the hotel. But Ms. Zhang, the nice agent who showed us the roof-top apartment, found this place and my parents didn't hesitate to get it.
It's a 1 + 1/2 bedroom apartment, fully furnished, with living room and kitchen, on the second floor of an apartment building with elevator access. They will be paying NT$20,000 a month.
So the apartment is located in the Xinyi district, near Xinyi Rd. (Section 5) and Wuxing Rd. It's not the most optimum location, as I heard they have to take a minibus (NT$15) to get to the nearest subway stop, the City Hall station. Looks like it's pretty close to Taipei 101, which you can see in the photo above that I took on Jan. 21.
I'm not sure if they will be staying that long, but for what it's worth, Taipei is building an MRT line down Xinyi Rd. I checked the Taiwan tourist website and they said it won't be completed until 2011. Looks like it will connect with the Blue line at Guting.
I asked my dad what he thought of the apartment and he said that it was "OK," so I'm not expecting a new apartment or anything. But he did say it was clean and had everything so all they had to buy were new sheets and blankets.
My dad sounded good today. He told me that he's been really uncomfortable the past few days because of constipation. But he increased the frequency and dosage of magnesium oxide tablets he's taking to three times a day, and that's helping.
"My head, I still can't move too quickly. Otherwise, I get dizzy," he added.
My mom's spirits seem good, as one big hurdle has now been passed. They have an appointment with the cancer specialist again tomorrow morning, so I'll report later on that.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Up Not Down
Talked to my dad tonight. His voice sounded really normal, I was surprised since he usually sounds tired.
I told him that he sounded better and he said he feels good today. "It's really up and down."
"When you feel dizzy, or when you feel like throwing up, you really feel uncomfortable. Yesterday , I felt like throwing up. The medicine is helping, but sometimes there is still a little bit that makes you feel sick."
He added, "Everytime I take a bath, I feel so tired. I have to change my schedule - next time I take a bath should be before going to sleep."
My mom says that they still haven't found a place yet. They've been looking, but some of the apartments are actually shared with other people and there are those that are not willing to rent on a short-term lease.
They went out today to the bank and post office, mainly to make a donation to the Foundation that the liver specialist works with. From what I understand, the Foundation helps those who cannot afford adequate medical treatment. I will add a link when I find out it's name.
I told him that he sounded better and he said he feels good today. "It's really up and down."
"When you feel dizzy, or when you feel like throwing up, you really feel uncomfortable. Yesterday , I felt like throwing up. The medicine is helping, but sometimes there is still a little bit that makes you feel sick."
He added, "Everytime I take a bath, I feel so tired. I have to change my schedule - next time I take a bath should be before going to sleep."
My mom says that they still haven't found a place yet. They've been looking, but some of the apartments are actually shared with other people and there are those that are not willing to rent on a short-term lease.
They went out today to the bank and post office, mainly to make a donation to the Foundation that the liver specialist works with. From what I understand, the Foundation helps those who cannot afford adequate medical treatment. I will add a link when I find out it's name.
Friday, February 2, 2007
First Test Results
I talked to my mom and dad just now. My mom said the visit to the cancer specialist went well. The specialist told my dad that his blood test results showed that he had improved a lot. And he also told him that eating is necessary to help speed his recovery. He had lost 4 pounds from last week's checkup!
So the doctor prescribed some new meds to help him get his appetite back:
PROMETIN - counteracts nausea and vomiting symptoms
FARLUTAL - increases appetite, but is also a cancer drug
It seems to be working already. This morning, he had two bowls of rice porridge and a fried egg. For lunch, he had 4 pieces of Inari sushi and some other street food!
With the new pills, he said, he hasn't gotten dizzy or nauseous. Today, he's feeling much better, for lunch he stopped by a food stall to eat some fish cake tempura (even though he's not supposed to eat stuff like that).
"Before, when I walked by those stalls," he said, "I wouldn't even lift up my head. Today, mom went into this small restaurant and I didn't have any problem with it. I used to get nauseous just from the smell."
My dad said jokingly that I did a better job taking care of him than my mom (My dad is the king of sweet talk). And he acknowledged that it's not easy: walking slow with him, talking slow with him.
Tonight, my mom said, they will go eat hot pot. And on the apartment front, she made some calls today and they're planning on seeing some apartments tomorrow.
So the doctor prescribed some new meds to help him get his appetite back:
PROMETIN - counteracts nausea and vomiting symptoms
FARLUTAL - increases appetite, but is also a cancer drug
It seems to be working already. This morning, he had two bowls of rice porridge and a fried egg. For lunch, he had 4 pieces of Inari sushi and some other street food!
With the new pills, he said, he hasn't gotten dizzy or nauseous. Today, he's feeling much better, for lunch he stopped by a food stall to eat some fish cake tempura (even though he's not supposed to eat stuff like that).
"Before, when I walked by those stalls," he said, "I wouldn't even lift up my head. Today, mom went into this small restaurant and I didn't have any problem with it. I used to get nauseous just from the smell."
My dad said jokingly that I did a better job taking care of him than my mom (My dad is the king of sweet talk). And he acknowledged that it's not easy: walking slow with him, talking slow with him.
Tonight, my mom said, they will go eat hot pot. And on the apartment front, she made some calls today and they're planning on seeing some apartments tomorrow.
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