Back in Los Angeles

I’m now back in L.A. I got on a 7:20 a.m. shuttle bus to Taoyuan International Airport yesterday morning. Not wanting to give my dad more ammunition for any “irresponsible” behavior, I made sure that I got to the airport early (also since I missed my New Year’s Eve flight in Shanghai).

I said goodbye to my dad and told him to take care of himself and stay strong. He thanked me for coming and we hugged. My mom walked me to the shuttle stop and we talked about his appetite. She said that once they find an apartment to rent, he’ll be better.

Before I left, I went over with my dad what he can and can't eat. The doctor provided a table of information that will help guide him, which in summary says:

Things My Dad Can Eat:
It's still OK for my dad to eat most things, but particularly it mentions stuff high in protein like egg yolks, milk, cakes, ice cream, soy milk, soy products, and tofu. Then of course, fruit, vegetables, and rice. Green onions, ginger and garlic will enhance his appetite.

Things My Dad Can't Eat:
Avoid salty foods especially when his feet are swelling/there is water retention. Not too much fatty meats, innards, stuff cooked in animal fat, ham, sausage. Preserved foods like beef jerky, smoked chicken, salted fish, preserved egg, tea egg (lots of soy sauce in it?), beef ball, fish ball, pickled vegetables, and any canned food. Also, he should avoid fast food of any kind - fried chicken, hamburger, peanut butter, some crackers, cookies, instant noodles. Then it says stay away from za cai, do ban jiang.

The morning I left, my dad had an appointment for a blood test. And the next day, he'll have to go in for an appointment with the cancer specialist, who will give him his results. By this evening, I should have a new report.

Guangfu Road Apartment

We went to see an apartment today. A realtor that I contacted yesterday, Ms. Zhang, called me and said she had an opening at Guangfu S. Road, Lane 290. I mapped it and it's really close to Sun Yat-Sen Memorial, where there's an MRT stop.

I made arrangements with her to meet at 1:30 pm at the apartment. After breakfast, my dad wasn't feeling good (probably from the meds) and so he went to sleep. I went out to get a haircut.

When I got back, he still seemed tired. We took a taxi to the apartment and Ms. Zhang and another associate was there. The apartment was on the 8th floor, which we found out was a roof addition built by one of the 7th floor tenants. The story is, it's a 2-bedroom apartment, at least 20 ping, but one of the room's is occupied. The person occupying it is a relative of the owner and is hardly living there, since he spends most of his time in Los Angeles. So, for most of the year, it's vacant.

The addition is decent, although there are a few things that are desired: no stove, no bathtub (don’t want my dad to slip and fall), and two small twin beds instead of one queen-size one.

Ms. Zhang’s associate went down to ask the landlord about the bed, and she said that it would be a loss for her to get rid of the queen-size bed, but she would add a twin bed for my mom. We figured that would be a workable compromise.

About the other things, Ms. Zhang seemed like it wasn’t too big a request to install a small bathtub and a stove, and she would discuss it with the landlord if we were serious about moving there.

My dad told them that for the stove, we would really only need something small, like one burner portable stove for quick heating of stuff. I quickly told him no, thinking in my head that if there was just one burner, you would only be able to cook one dish at a time … how long would it take to cook!

So I told the agents that we need to first consult with my mother and have her check out the place. We’ll see what she says …

On the way out, we noticed that we were just a few blocks away from my Uncle Bill’s apartment! That was good, since if there was an emergency, they would be there.

My dad and I went to go look for lunch. We looked at a bunch of places and stumbled upon two hole-in-the-wall restaurants – one served mi fen, and the other had different kinds of clear-broth soups. I opted for the soups, my dad insisted on eating mi fen, so I relented.

We each got an order of mi fen, a thick soup (looked like dan hua tang) for him and wonton tang for me. Well, despite having ordered what he wanted, he took about 4 bites and then he stopped eating. He said the food tasted too sweet, which was weird because I didn’t get that feeling at all. I think another factor was that mi fen, because of its consistency, can easily get stuck in your throat. And the way my dad ate, he got it caught down the wrong tube and started coughing.

Prior to my arrival in Taipei, he choked on food and coughed so hard, that his tumor tore. Since then, he’s been trying hard not to cough. Yet he still eats his food too fast …

So I asked him if he wanted to order something else, and he said no. He looked really depressed. I asked him if he was disappointed in eating and he said yes. I told him that it’s just the medicine doing this and it’s only temporary. Because he didn’t eat anything, the painkillers took hold and he started getting really tired.

We went back to the hotel, but we made a stop at the Hi-Life mini-market to pick up something to drink for him. I asked him if he wanted food, he said no. It’s curious to me why he complains that the food is too sweet and then he goes out and buys a small carton of herbal jelly drink and mango juice. Go figure.

I went out with my cousin Peter while he rested and went up to the top of Taipei 101, the world’s tallest building. I took lots of pictures because the sunset was beautiful. On the way back, I went to the market at the basement of Sogo Department Store and got him a canister of powdered Ensure (I looked all over for the individual drinks, but couldn’t find any anywhere). Now, if he doesn’t eat, at least he can get some nourishment from this drink. On the can, it even says that it can help provide nutrients to people recovering from surgery or undergoing chemotherapy.

For dinner, my dad didn’t want to eat out because he was tired and he’s been feeling disappointed. He told me that his taste has changed; that food he once really loved to eat, doesn’t satisfy him or doesn’t taste good. Then he mentioned that he should have went to Shanghai.

I asked him why? Because his housekeeper, Xiao Liu, can make him food to eat? He said no, because it’s better to be at home, the air quality in the hotel isn’t that good, and he’s tired of going out to eat. And plus, he doesn’t have to see the doctor until March.

I reminded him, “No, you have a blood test tomorrow and an appointment with the cancer specialist on Thursday. You’ll be going to the hospital once a week.”

I had convinced him to go out, seeing how there was nothing else left to eat. So we went to the cafeteria-style place again, I figured it was a safe bet since that was a place where he liked the food.

We ordered quite a bit: mushu hui bing, the same vegetable-tofu soup we had last time, kong xing cai, and a leek flat bread with sesame seeds on top. Oh, and my dad also got a bowl of mi dou fan (?), which is like rice porridge but yellow from what I guess is corn - kinda reminds me of oatmeal.

It was quite a feast. And I was slightly afraid that the same thing would happen again – where my dad would take a few bites and then not eat. But surprisingly, he finished his bowl of mi fan, several bowls of soup and half of the mushu hui bing.

He says that the mushu hui bing was a favorite of him and his brother’s. They would be very, very lucky if they got to eat it growing up. Since they were so poor, they would both share one plate.

I’ve noticed that my dad is re-living some childhood memories, especially related to food. Being poor, he grew up hungry, he said. And because of this, his memories of good food are particularly special. I can only imagine what life would be like if xiao long bao no longer tasted good to me! I guess I would be depressed too.

We got back and I started packing my bags. My mom arrived tonight at midnight, after an hour delay. She seemed well rested and in good spirits and my dad was glad to see her.

The rest of the night, I went over all the places I had contacted for apartments and told her stuff she needed to follow up on. Then we went over dad’s schedule for the next week.

Eating As an Option

This morning at 7 a.m., I woke up to my dad eating a piece of cheesecake left over from Just Pasta. He must have been hungry, since last night he didn't really eat anything.

We went to eat breakfast about an hour or so later, and he ate a little more. But I'm worried about the way he eats. Well, it's not really eating, more like inhaling. He's gulping and because of that, he's getting gas. And then when he gets gas, he feels uncomfortable. And then he makes weird noises which he says makes him feel better, but it sounds like he's grunting. It's uncomfortable for me when he does that, because I can't tell if he's in pain or what.

I thought last night was just an anomaly, maybe he really couldn't eat the dumplings. But no such luck at lunch today.

We walked around and there wasn't any place that offered good, clean food. So we settled on this cafe that had pasta. It seemed safe. My dad ordered this spaghetti in Japanese miso sauce. We asked for no green onions. I got a spicy chicken spaghetti. But they came back and said that the pasta sauce came pre-mixed with green onions. So he got the vegetable spaghetti instead. When we got our food, it was OK, I thought. But my dad took three bites and stopped eating.

I asked him what was wrong and he said that the pasta wasn't any good, it was too sweet. I ate it and it seemed a little sweet, but it wasn't inedible. I told him it wasn't that bad, but maybe he should get something else. He said no, that he was full already. For a few minutes, I tried to convince him to eat it, that he needs to eat food to give him the energy to fight cancer, but he wouldn't listen to me.

Then he just stared off and just seemed to be absorbed by all the people talking in the cafe. When I tried to re-establish contact, it was like talking to a brick wall.

It was pretty upsetting, so I just gave up. We sat there for 15 minutes without talking to one another. Then I took him back to the hotel.

For most of the afternoon, I called around a few places renting apartments, the ones that I saw yesterday. I also went to look in the Zhongzin area, where the last hotel was, and it's a little more peaceful. On the street, this lady saw me taking down numbers for places to rent. She told me her boss was going to rent out an apartment in the building - a one bedroom. I thought that was great, it turned out to be right above a flower shop and the building was in pretty good condition. However, when we got there, the boss wasn't ready to show it or want to provide any details, so I just left our info with them.

I then went into the Yungching Realty office and a nice man named Mr. Chien helped me look for postings that fit our needs. He was really nice and we found a couple of postings that I think will work. Only problem now is trying to get my parents to increase their budget from NT$15,000 for a studio with no kitchen (which is like 1990 prices if you ask me) to NT$28,000 for a one bedroom with a kitchen and even laundry.

For dinner, I picked up for my dad a NT$200 roast beef sandwich from fancy food purveyors Dean & Deluca, which I surprisingly discovered near our hotel at Breeze Plaza. It was the first place that I actually saw real roast beef in Taipei.

My dad only ate half of the sandwich. He said it was just "OK," as he picked out the onions. And he refused to eat any more because he was full.

For Rent

It's cold here in Taipei. Today, even though the sun was out, it was cold. I'm not really prepared for this weather.

My dad rested most of the morning. He decided against taking the Lasix because it makes him nauseous. I told him to try just half a pill, but he didn't want it.

For lunch, we went out to this cafeteria-like restaurant, where you get your own bowls, cups of tea and sauces. The waitresses only take your order and bring you the food. He had beef fried rice with bell peppers and a clear, tofu-vegetable soup. The place wasn't too bad and it was close by.

On the way back, we walked in a residential area near Zhongxiao Fuxing to see if there were any apartments for rent signs. My dad has been asking me the past few days to see if I've found any. Problem is, I can't read Chinese. So it's not like I can look in the classifieds section of a newspaper. I have to go and walk the streets. Even then, sometimes I see it's a "For Rent" sign and it might be for an office space.

We got to this one building, whose other side faces Zhongxiao Road. There's two signs for apartments for rent. My dad calls one number and the guy says he'll be over in 13 minutes. So we wait and talk to the old guy at the front desk for a while. The apartment owner, a Mr. Lin, arrives on a moped.

We go upstairs to the 9th floor. It seems OK, kind of like a typical apartment building so far - shoes in front of the door, some doors are metal gated, etc. He opens up the room and it's a studio apartment. The advertisement said it was 8 ping, which sounded small to me when I first heard it.

The room was square with two vertical cabinets for clothes, a small 15" t.v., a full-size bed, a desk at the head of the bed, and a new air conditioner, which he emphasized over and over. It doesn't sound too bad, but it lacked obvious necessities like ... a kitchen, a real shower (not the ones where you take a shower on the bathroom floor and everything gets wet). He wanted NT$15,000 for this place, per month, with a 2-month deposit.

When we asked about a stove, the guy just diverted the conversation by saying, "You know, I'm going to tell you the truth. This area is really convenient. You just walk out the apartment building and there's everything, all kinds of food - dumplings, bread, anything. Here in Taipei, it's actually more expensive to make your own food. You have to buy it, wash vegetables, cook ... you can just eat out here, which people like to do. And if you want, get a water hot pot and you can heat up some instant noodles when you're hungry."

The whole time he was feeding us this bullshit, he was looking at me, like I was the one going to rent it. In my mind, I thought, "OH, helllll no. I got a 2 bedroom on the Westside with a kitchen, two bathrooms and a balcony."

Me, I could've been in and out of that apartment in less than 5 minutes. But my dad has to spend 10-15 minutes talking to the guy, getting his life story. Apparently this whole building was an office building and he converted the entire 9th floor to studio apartments. We also found out that he was living in Canada about 20 years ago and got deported, has 2 sons, one is pre-med in Australia and the other I don't know, I stopped listening.

So we finally leave and I asked my dad what he thought (because you all know by now what I think of the place). He said he'll talk to mom about it. Before we got to the hotel, I reminded my dad that he's sick and the first concern is getting a place where he's comfortable. This place is suitable for someone who's in college, but not someone who's going through chemotherapy. I added that if he lived there, that would just break my heart.

While he was taking his afternoon nap, I went off to look for some more apartments, this time by the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial.

When I got back, he was tired and had me go pick up dinner. I went to this place that served boiled dumplings. I got us a dozen vegetarian ones and 16 meat ones, plus soup, to go.

Well, we had a little feast. But after having 3 dumplings, my dad said he didn't like them. He said that he could taste the MSG and the oil. Apparently, there was oil added to the boiling water, maybe to add flavor and give the dumplings a little sheen.

So, I had all these dumplings left over. He said he wasn't that hungry, but I cut up an apple for him anyways. I offered to go get him something else, but he said no.

After eating some, he went to bed. I told him that we needed to find an apartment with a kitchen. Otherwise, we have no control over what food he eats. He agreed, saying, "And mom will make stuff that I like."

Crabby

This morning, my dad still wasn't feeling good when we went down for breakfast. At one point, he turned away from the t.v. in the cafeteria and said that the colors on the screen and sounds were making him feel sick. He also couldn't lift his head without feeling dizzy.

He went outside after breakfast to get some fresh air. He seemed better because when I gave him his medicine, he said that I caused him to not pee for a whole day because he took a whole pill of Lasix. He said "Ni hai wo."

First of all, I said, where does it say you need to take half a pill? I gave him the medicine packet and he said, "Right here." I said, "That's my handwriting. I wrote that after you told me half a pill a day."

Yesterday morning, I opened up the Lasix and only found 4 pills. I asked him, how come only 4 pills for a whole week? At first he said that you only take them when you need them. I disagreed, but he took a whole one anyways. Then, about half an hour later, he told me, "You're supposed to eat half a pill a day. The doctor said half a pill a day." I don't recall the doctor saying that, and even if she did, at least it should have said something on the packaging. But it didn't.

So today, he said "Ni hai wo." Then added that because of me, he didn't go pee for a whole day yesterday. I felt like telling him that he was lying. Because Lasix doesn't prevent you from peeing. It actually does the opposite, by helping your body get rid of excess fluids in your body. It was prescribed to help him reduce swelling in his ankles and feet.

Obviously, he's blaming me for feeling ill. The side effects of Lasix include nausea and vomiting, upset stomach, headache, and blurred vision, and I think he was feeling them all yesterday.

Today, I got a nice email from Jeffrey Shih, who worked for my father in San Francisco:

"As I respect your father like my own during my almost 10 years working with him when we were all in San Francisco. We always had good time when we got together in LAX or SHA. However, thank you for sharing me the website so I could know the update of his status. Tell you the truth, until today, I still called your dad " Boss " even though I left Dimerco for two years when I moved down to LAX in Aug. 2003. I ever respect him like my own father and a good teacher to coach me for my career growth. I will pray for him everyday."

Thanks Jeffrey. Pray for me too ...

After my dad's evening nap, he started to feel a little better. We went out to eat at this restaurant called Bellini's Cafe, on Fuxing North Rd., which supposedly is one of Taipei's best Italian restaurants. When we got there, we found out it's actually an itameshi-ya restaurant started in Japan.

I knew he wanted pizza, so we ordered a Parma ham pizza, spaghetti with bolognese sauce, and also a grilled beef salad, which was pretty good. The pizza came out very thin-crust, like wafer-thin. Having lived in New York, it fell way short of our expectations. It wasn't bad, but my dad said that in New York, he would never throw out the "best part," meaning the crust. There was no crust here, the whole thing was cracker bread. We surmised it was Italian-style pizza.

The spaghetti was alright to me. My dad said it reminded him of Jessica, our old dog. I asked him why and he said it's because the meat sauce looked like the dog food we fed her.

A Change in Weather

Today wasn't such a good day for my dad. At breakfast, he couldn't really eat because he said he felt like vomiting. We stayed downstairs for a little bit longer, so he could take his time.

After breakfast, he rested and then took a bath. Feeling a little better, we went out for lunch. It was bright and sunny with a few clouds, really warm. We took a cab to Xinyi Road / Yong Kong Street. Since there was construction on the street, a lot of stores and restaurant signs were obstructed, and my dad was walking around looking for something. Finally he mumbled, "I haven't been here for almost 20 years, everything's different."

We crossed Xinyi Road, and he pointed out the original Din Tai Fung restaurant. He said that it, like most other restaurants, started as a little stall, then they rented out a small restaurant space and grew from there. We didn't go to Din Tai Fung. I know that he doesn't really think it's that special, or he grew tired of it.

Instead, we walked down Yong Kong Street. We walked into this restaurant called Kao Chi, supposedly also a very famous Shanghainese dim sum restaurant in Taipei. On the menu, it says that it's the oldest Shanghainese establishment on Yong Kong St, having started in 1950. My dad says they're well known for their sheng jian bao, and then said that in his younger days, all he had to do was buy a lot of sheng jian bao from here and then he could get dates with a lot of women by offering them some.

We opted for the xiao long bao instead. They came out really good - with perfectly thin skin, so when you picked them up, they skin sagged a bit from the weight of the juice inside. They were really delicious. But everything on the menu is expensive. For one small bowl of soup, a small bowl of vermicelli soup noodles, xiao long bao, shrimp and meat steamed dumpling and chicken feet, the bill came to NT$600.

By the time we walked out, the sky was gray and a slight wind had picked up. On the cab ride back to the hotel, it started to rain.

He slept for most of the rest of the day. I went out to do some work and pick up some sandwiches, which I know he's been craving. I passed by the Sheraton Taipei one day and saw that they had a deli. So I picked up a Chicken Parma sandwich and a Beef sandwich. Looking at the sandwiches, the meat looked kind of sparse. And the beef wasn't roast beef, it looked like pastrami, but it wasn't cut thinly. So on my way back to the hotel, I stopped by Sogo and picked up some cold cuts at the market. There weren't that many choices, but I got pastrami and turkey.

When I got back, my dad wasn't feeling too good. He said that he felt like throwing up. Then he said he needed a walk. So I took the food and put in a bag and we went out. We walked to the food court at Sogo where they have tables and chairs. When we got there, he said that it wasn't going to work. I asked why and he said that there's too much noise, too many people talking.

So we walked all the way to the end of the East Metro Mall, an underground tunnel that pretty much takes you from the Zhongxiao Fuxing stop to Zhongxiao Dunhua. There's a bunch of benches there, so we sat and ate there. There were a few couples and then a group of middle school kids came to hang out. My dad said "Oh no..." but they left pretty soon.

I asked him if he felt better and he said he just needed some fresh air. The air circulation in the hotel room isn't that good. I said that an underground tunnel doesn't seem like it would have any better air. He said that beside from being noisy and just being too crowded, the Sogo food court had all these smells that apparently made him uncomfortable and want to throw up.

Feeling better, we headed back for the hotel. My dad estimates its a mile walk in each direction. And he's not walking fast.

When we got back, we watched "Collateral". About halfway through it, he started feeling sick again. He got up to go to the bathroom, and he said that he felt blood rush to his head and neck. It went away soon after, but he told me to write it down. This happened at 10:00 pm.

Doctor's Visit

Today we had the big visit to the cancer specialist at Tai-Da Hospital. It was his first follow-up since he began taking his chemotherapy drugs.

Before we went to the hospital, we had lunch near Taipei Main Railway Station. Around the station, there's a bunch of computer part stores and lots of food shops. We looked around and most of the shops were just fast food joints, so we finally settled on a Japanese ramen shop. But the soup for our ramen turned out to be too salty for my dad, so I had to water it down for him.

On our way back to the subway, my dad told me about how my grandpa used to have a room near here. And how he, when he was a kid, came from Jeelung to look for him. During that time there was rows of food stalls, many of them serving beef stew noodle (niu rou mian). It was the best niu rou mian, he said. He added that he stayed with grandpa for a while, but because he didn't work, grandpa ended up giving up his room to pay off all his IOUs for food and cigarettes.

We got to the hospital at 1:45 pm, headed to the Oncology Clinic and called a doctor that was part of his treatment team. The doctor came out of the clinic room, greeted my dad and asked him how he's been feeling. She then took his blood pressure and temperature. She left, but came back shortly to tell us that we'll be the sixth on the list to see the doctor. Since my dad is on special clinical trials, I guess they don't require him to make an appointment and will squeeze him in when they can.

After about 2:45 pm, we got in to see the cancer specialist. He went over my dad's symptoms and jokingly asked if my dad copied down the side effects from the medicine booklets he had, because my dad had reported just about every major side effect listed to the doctor. My dad laughed and said that no, he was just taking note of everything that's been different since he started the medication.

The cancer specialist pretty much just gave my dad advice on what he could do to counter the side effects. For the swelling in his feet and ankles, we were doing the right thing by raising his feet whenever he lied down. The drugs were making him retain some water and gravity was pushing it down to his feet. The cancer specialist said that the sweating was actually good, and since it was not accompanied by fever, was probably not a result of an infection. And so, my dad can stop taking his Zinnat pills. They were prescribed previously as just a precaution in case his liver was festering from a slight rupture about a week ago.

But he did prescribe a new drug, Lasix, which my dad is supposed to take in the mornings, to help him not retain water during the day. And that way, my dad won't have to wake up every 2 hours at night to go pee. He also told my dad that to counteract the feeling of dry-mouth, my dad could just put water in his mouth and hold it there, then spit it out. I thought this advice to be kind of weird. I think the water is actually helping my dad cleanse his system from all the toxins and the drugs.

So aside from the change in those two drugs, his dosage and drug treatment will continue for another week. On Jan. 31, he's to return for a blood test. And on Feb. 1, he'll return for another appointment with the cancer specialist to see if there's been any progress.

Oh yeah, my dad was previously taking medicine for high blood pressure back in Shanghai, so I asked the cancer specialist about it and whether he can go back on it. The specialist said my dad doesn't need to, since his blood pressure is fine and the medication that he's on now has the same effect. The doctor checked his blood pressure again and it read 122 systolic / 80 diastolic, pretty normal.

We payed the bill, which only came out to NT$100. Then we went to pick up his meds. The dispensary at Tai-Da Hospital is like a crazy pharmaceutical assembly line. Behind the counter windows, which are very much like bank teller windows, you can see several teams of people filling out individual orders. I got up to go to the bathroom and by the time I got back, the nurse called his name and his order was ready for pickup.

Dad seemed visibly tired. We went straight back to the hotel and he got into bed and slept for about 2-1/2 hours. During this time, I went out to scope out the neighborhood, and found a food stall that sold xie ke huang! So I had a Shanghainese surprise for my dad when he woke up.

My reconnaissance mission was mainly to look for someplace good to eat for dinner. I was tired of mall food. I came back with some options and we thought this place that specialized in chicken soup in clay pot (sorry, don't know what it's called in Chinese) would be the best bet.

Now finding the place again was a challenge. We walked around for quite a while. But we finally found it and my dad was up for it. They got very specific, asking what kind of chicken he wanted in his soup - regular, free-range, or dark meat (?). I opted for chicken rice and we got a side of green vegetables.

When the soup came, it was a little sweet. My dad didn't like it. So I told him I'll take it and he can order another one. The lady who seemed like the owner came by and we told her we wanted something not sweet, but salty. But not that salty. Well, when it came, the soup wasn't clear, it was kind of dark like it had soy sauce in it. Another disappointed look came on my dad's face. He muttered, "Oh no."

We both tasted it and this one definitely tasted more like medicine. It then dawned on me that these clay pot soups were medicinal - they were cooked with herbs and plant roots. It was good for you, but if you didn't grow up eating it, then you would probably think it was a little weird.

I didn't think it was too bad. But my dad said that it might taste alright for regular people, but for people like him, it didn't taste good. I asked him what he meant by that and he said that ever since he started taking the medicine, it's changed what food tastes like for him. Things that are mild for us, may seem bitter to him. It's not just a heightened sensitivity to any particular flavor, but tastes can be distorted for him. In that sense, he hasn't been enjoying his food.

He then added that for some reason the only two things that seem to taste like what they are supposed to taste like are: spaghetti and sandwiches. I asked him if that squid ink calamari pasta he had the other night was good, knowing fully well that pasta is one of his favorite dishes. He said yes.

Then he said that actually he doesn't know if sandwiches will taste like sandwiches, he's guessing it will since he had an egg "sandwich" this morning.

I think he just wants to eat a really good sandwich. He's been talking about looking for a sandwich shop for the past few days now...

Where's the Beef?

Today was kind of an uneventful day. Following my mom's instructions, most of the day we spent in the hotel room resting, watching the news, napping and reading.

Dad took one instead of two of his Magnesium Oxide pills today, which helps counteract the constipation side-effects of the pain killers. He said that he went poo five times yesterday and he went twice this morning, so he cut out one of the pills.

We went out for our usual walk to the Zhongxiao Donghua MRT stop. Around there, we had soybean milk and xiaolongbao. It felt really good to eat this, as Taipei is getting colder.

We walked back and both fell asleep. When we woke up, it was almost dinner time. At this time, I feel like we're running out of places to eat. Or just that we're sick of eating out.

We ended up going to the Sogo Department Store Food Court. On the way there, my dad said he saw an evening news program which reported an apartment for NT$18,000 a month. I asked him where the apartment was and he got mad, saying, "How do I know?" I said the news program should have said where. Then he got more upset.

At the food court, we walked around, and tried to look for something to eat. My dad ordered some seafood rice au gratin at this stall that sold Italian food. I ordered pork katsu curry with egg omelet. When we got our food, we were both disappointed. My dad's seafood rice au gratin had a thick layer of cheese on it, which he can't eat. My curry didn't taste very good.

At the next table in the food court, a woman started singing old Chinese songs, her slight round face turned pink, and head tilting slightly to the side. My dad, smiling, started staring off, no doubt the music taking him to a familiar place in the past.

She would sing, then talk about the songs, and then start singing another song. It brightened everything up. I asked my dad how old he was when these songs came out. He said he was in his twenties, and added that his former boss, Paul Chien, used to sing these songs.

Then the woman got up and said thanks to the group of people she was sitting with. Just then, we realized that she was sitting with complete strangers because there weren't enough seats in the food court and just began chatting away. We started laughing because it must have been extremely weird having a person join you at your table and then start singing away.

Nevertheless, the woman brightened up our sad dinner. We went back to the hotel in better spirits. Back in the room, we prepared for tomorrow's appointment with the cancer specialist at Tai-Da Hospital, going over how my dad has been feeling over the past week.

Some of the side effects include:
- feeling tired and being zoned out from the pain killers
- sometimes sweating when sleeping
- going poo more than normal
- waking up 3-4 times during the course of a night to go to the bathroom
- swollen feet and ankles (last night)

He's reduced his painkiller medication from 3 times a day to 2, so he's more lucid. He's also not feeling nauseous at all, which is good. For him, he's just glad that his hair isn't falling out. Things seem OK, but I think the challenge now is to keep him from being bored and eating food that isn't good for him.

Hotel Swap

So we switched hotels this morning. My dad was upset that the hotel wouldn't give him a discount yesterday, when we switched rooms. But in the end, when we checked out, they gave us a discount amounting to approx. NT $4,000 for staying there over 20 days.

I felt like a mule because we had to transport all this stuff. I myself had 3 bags - a rolling luggage, a camera bag and shoulder bag. Then there was my dad's briefcase and a rolling luggage, a shopping bag of fruit and bread that people have given us, a shopping bag of detergent my mom left behind, and an umbrella.

But I could tell my dad was ready to leave. He was sick of the breakfast. Every morning, they served the same thing in the free buffet: rice porridge, an assortment of Chinese pickles, cooked green vegetables, eggs over easy, a salad bar and white bread. Dad complained about the toaster - how it took forever to toast the bread and when it came out, it wasn't even that brown. Then there was the juice, which he said wasn't really juice and it was too sweet. The only thing that changed switched were some of the hot items: mini wieners and sliced ham, and tempura - today there was something that resembled french fries.

At the new hotel, he claimed, they cooked the eggs right in front of you. He said that the people here were lazy and by serving people the same stuff every day, they encouraged you not to eat here, so they could save money by making less. He said at the other hotel, he would eat more every day, whereas here, he ate less and less. Today, all he had was an egg, two pieces of toast and some tea.

So we took a taxi, hauling all our luggage there. When we got there, the hotel front desk staff checked the reservation, which was for 15 days. My dad asked for the room rate again. They gave a price that was more than what they told us yesterday. So my dad went to talk to the woman who took us to check out the room. She proceeded to tell us that she didn't give us the rate, that it was another staffer who was here that did so. Frustrated and upset, my dad asked her to talk to her manager. I don't think she ended up doing so, but we ended up getting the discounted rate for part of the time - since I was leaving, he would switch to a smaller room and they wouldn't give him a greater discount on that one. As part of the deal, we paid for everything up front.

And then they told us that we couldn't check-in until 2 am. But the other staff told us we could check-in at 12 noon ...

My dad and I went to Barista Coffee next door to hang out until noon. We rested, and he took the rest of his medication. He said he was disappointed how 3-star hotels "always try to cheat you." After checking in, we took a cab to Tai-Da Hospital. We had to eat before our 2 pm appointment and I heard that they had a great food court downstairs which my mom and dad both liked.

My ordered two bentos of roast duck and rice. The duck was a little too salty and the meat rubbery. I got him a bottle of water, but it was difficult trying to get him to drink half of it. And it was a pain trying to get him to eat the rest of his green vegetables. For some reason, he thinks me and my mom are trying to turn him into a vegetarian. On several occasions, he's said, "The doctor said not to eat just vegetables, since I'm losing weight." I assume his doctor means that my dad needs protein. When I said that tofu has a lot of protein in it, my dad just brushed me off.

Sometimes I don't know what my dad is thinking. After eating, he said that he needed to go to the bathroom to rinse his mouth from the overly salty duck. So we go to the bathroom. Instead of going to the sink where people wash their hands, he goes to the sink that's next to the urinals. The industrial one that I'm sure they use to clean mops. There he scoops water into his mouth with the same hand that he uses to turn the faucet on. I asked him why on earth he did that, since it was so unsanitary and he could of used the bottled water that I bought. He just blew me off.

We found the Internal Medicine Clinic and waited for our 2 pm appointment. I sat and read a book while my dad rested. The doctor we were seeing was a liver specialist, apparently the best in China. Apparently my dad is seeing two doctors: this liver specialist and another doctor, a cancer specialist. My dad said that the liver doctor is a really good guy, he sees a lot of patients who can't afford a good doctor. My uncle, through his connections, found a way for my dad to see him when my dad was still in the emergency room at Tai-Da. And while the hospital was looking to release my dad because his fever had subsided, this liver doctor allowed my dad to stay a little while longer so he could see the cancer specialist.

From what he told me, my dad seems indebted to the liver doctor and my uncle. In the worst time - when he was in the emergency room with a bad fever - they pulled through for him, finding a way to get past the bureaucracy.

Well, being that this is a busy hospital, at 1:45 pm they posted a list of people who had afternoon appointments along with the order with which they'd be seen. We checked the list and found our number, #059, to be about 3/4 of the way down the first column of names. My dad knocked the door of the room and spoke to the nurse, who remembered him. She came out and said that we should come back at 6 pm, which is when our turn would probably be. Then she thought twice and said to rest and check back with her at 2:30, and maybe there'd be a no-show and she could squeeze him in to see the doctor early.

At 2:30, we were waved in. I entered the room, which couldn't have been more than 8 square yards, but had a desk, an examination table , a stool next to the desk, a wall desk for the nurse and another chair for the next patient in line. The liver specialist sat behind the desk reviewing my dad's files and asked him questions about the drugs he's been taking and how he's been feeling. Next to the doctor there was a nurse pulling up my dad's files on the computer. Three or four other nurses were also crammed in the room, listening, processing paperwork, preparing info on the next patient. I tried to stay out of the way, but it was so crammed.

The whole matter lasted less than 5 minutes. The doctor said that he wanted to check on my dad's liver in March, and prepared times for him to come in and get a blood test and an ultrasound scan. Before I knew it, we were on our way out. As we turned into the hall, I was shocked as to the number of people waiting to be seen by doctors here. There were about 40 rooms in the Internal Medicine ward and if each doctor saw the number of patients our liver specialist did, Tai-Da hospital seemed to be an incredibly efficient health care assembly line. Just the sheer number of people the doctors saw blew me away...

After the appointment, we took the MRT back. Well, I got us on the right train, but unfortunately it was going the wrong direction. When we got to our station, we stopped at Sogo Department Store and decided to get a snack and something hot to drink. We went downstairs to the market, got a whiff of the fresh baked goods at Yamazaki, then we headed upstairs to check out the food court, where the Starbucks was. When we got to the Starbucks, my dad said he was going back to Yamazaki for some bread. He said he saw waffles and wanted some. We went back downstairs, picked up some waffles and a French chicken puff thing for me, then returned to Starbucks. He got a coffee and I my second chocolate milk of the day.

At 4:30 pm, we headed back to the hotel so that he could take his afternoon nap. He didn't drink even half of his coffee, so he wasn't caffeinated. Around 6:30 pm he woke up and asked if he fell asleep. I said, "Well, I don't know. It seemed like it. Did you?"

He replied that he thought so and that it wasn't like yesterday when he had a nightmare and kept calling my name even though he knew I wasn't there.

The past few days, he's woken up sweaty but without a fever. I'm not sure if it's the drugs since he had this problem prior to coming to Taipei.

He went back to sleep and I woke him up at 7:30 to go eat dinner. I know he smelled spaghetti at the Sogo food court. So we went to look for an Italian restaurant. I peered down this one side street and saw this sign that said "Chianti" in English. We went to go check it out and it turned out to be this fancy Italian joint that served the standard fettucine and linguine, but also lamb chops, osso bucco and risotto. The average cost of each dish was NT$500.

We decided to look elsewhere. My dad said that the pictures on the menu looked good, but there were no customers inside. Indeed, I only saw one couple inside. We walked around the corner to a place I spotted earlier called "Just Pasta." They had posted reviews of the restaurant outside, but I couldn't read it.

Dad says in Chinese, "Oh this looks good. It must be good, there's a lot of women here."

Taking Turns

My mom left this morning for a 10 am back to Shanghai. Before she left, my dad asked her when she's coming back to Taipei. He asked her, "Who's going to make sure that I'm OK while you're gone?"

Ironically, for the past few days that I've been here, he's been silently grumbling about how me and my mom have been telling him what he can and cannot eat, when to take his meds and if he's feeling OK. This was most apparent when my mom would ask him. He'd kind of get this annoyed look on his face and agree in a kind of passive-aggressive way. Passive-aggressive isn't my dad's standard operating procedure. In fact, he will tell you to your face if he's upset and then some.

So when my dad said this to my mom, she was pleasantly surprised. Even I was. He rarely showed that he cared, and here he was showing him that he appreciated her. She replied happily, "Well, if you say it like that, then I won't go!" And she giggled.

My mom left a few minutes later. She took the airport bus. The stop was located right across the street from our hotel. I walked with her across the street; at 7 am, there was a slight drizzle. She reminded me to have my dad eat his meds on time and make sure that he drink plenty of water. The painkiller that he's on - Tramal Retard (I know it sounds ridiculous) - is known to have dry-mouth and constipation as one of the side-effects. Being the mom that she is, she told me that she'll be back soon. I told her not to worry, that me and dad will both be getting drugged out together.

The bus came and approached the curb. The luggage compartment doors, located on the sides of the bus' belly, opened up remotely. I slipped her luggage in, we hugged and she boarded the bus.

I had dinner with my aunt last night and she said that these past few weeks have been so hard on my mom. Indeed, I was worried back in Shanghai. She was a wreck. And I wanted my sister to accompany them to Taipei, but my dad, ever the pessimist, insisted that she stay in Shanghai and take care of some business in case he was going to die soon. Well, that left my mom all alone to take care of his stubborn ass.

Well, after breakfast, my dad and I went up to the receptionist to ask to switch from a King-sized bed room to one with two twin beds. The room we were in could accomodate 3 with an additional cot. They gave us a reduced rate, but not what my dad was thinking of. After sounding off his disappointment, he reluctantly agreed, and they gave us the keys to the new room so that we could move our stuff. It was easy move, as the twin room was right next door. I noticed that the room stunk like cigarette smoke. At first, I thought that this was just slight. But as I was moving in and out of the room, I couldn't help but think that some mainlanders stayed here and left this room just smelling rank. I told my dad, and he said he didn't care. I tried to pass it off, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep. So I told him that I would go downstairs and get us a new room.

After informing her of the smell, the receptionist immediately gave us another room on the floor - an upgrade, she said, to a triple. When I went up to see it, it was bigger than the twin room and had a full size and a twin size bed. Feeling especially proud of myself, I went to tell my dad, but he didn't seem too pleased. Again, we moved our stuff to this new room.

When we were done, we set out for our morning walk. My dad said he wanted to check out this other hotel. So we left and long story short, me and my dad got in a fight. The hotel we went to check out was nicer, but their twin-bed room was smaller. He asked me how it was, and I told him that the hotel was nice but the neighborhood was really noisy. He got all pissed off, saying how it was a really expensive neighborhood. I told him that I wasn't disagreeing with him, that all I was saying was that he'd have more peaceful walks at the other place. Then he went on about how he's the one suffering and I don't have to live here, etc., etc. So then I got pissed and said he might as well have not asked me since he was going to do what he wanted anyways.

That was the first day without my mom.