Monthly Archives: March 2009

A Different Kind of Understanding

The doc­tor told us she has anoth­er 5–6 months. Her colon is so enlarged from the tumor that it’s thick­er than her spine, and the pro­ce­dure was just a tem­po­rary solu­tion to pre­vent fur­ther block­ages.

How strange it is to “know” how much time there is left. I guess that’s why they call it a dead­line. I had already assumed that this would going to be the last time I could see her, but that won’t make it any eas­i­er when I have to leave.

I’m grate­ful to the peo­ple who have been send­ing me their regards. It’s a nice com­fort. One of the best pieces of advice came from Charlotte, who told me to “not leave any­thing at all unsaid to her…leave no ques­tions unan­swered, and to not with­hold any affec­tion you feel for her”.

I had come to Hong Kong with the inten­tion of telling my grand­ma how impor­tant she was to me. Finding the right words in Chinese to express exact­ly what I want­ed to say.

But try­ing to speak with her has made me real­ize that she does­n’t care about any of that. She’s a very prac­ti­cal woman, almost to the point of tact­less­ness. For almost her entire life, mar­ried at 14 and as a sin­gle par­ent of sev­en kids, she’s had no time for words or feel­ings.

I’m here, and that’s how she under­stands how I feel.

Government House

Going up the stairs to the Government House

Thumbnail: Garden path
Thumbnail: Side of garden
Thumbnail: People sitting by the fountain
Thumbnail: Chinese scouts
Thumbnail: Different levels in Government House
Thumbnail: People and flowers
Thumbnail: Photographing flowers
Thumbnail: Trees and buildings
Thumbnail: Sidewalk view
 

I went to vis­it Government House, which is the offi­cial res­i­dence of the Governor of Hong Kong1. The gov­er­nors were all Caucasian, aside from when the Japanese invad­ed, since they were appoint­ed by the British gov­ern­ment. Now they’re all Chinese, and they don’t live here any­more, as a sym­bol of China’s new pres­ence and to lessen the impact of old British lega­cy.

It was a chance oppor­tu­ni­ty, because it’s only open to the pub­lic twice a year. Which pret­ty much means that it’s packed, even by Hong Kong stan­dards. People seemed to real­ly enjoy see­ing the expan­sive gar­den and the din­ing rooms where offi­cial func­tions are held. For me, it was a good chance to pho­to­graph locals, and an impor­tant piece of Chinese his­to­ry.

  1. Now renamed the “Chief Official” after the China takeover in 1997. [↩]

Five Year Timestamp

People here say I’ve changed.

Me and grandma

It’s been five years, and my grand­ma used to describe me all the time as “seun”, a Cantonese word for “pure, clean, unmixed”. But when I arrived last week, she said she would­n’t rec­og­nize me if she saw me on the street.

They used to say I looked like Leon Lai.

Leon Lai

Yeah, this guy. Now they’ll con­cede that I’m bet­ter look­ing than my dad.

People notice the white hair and say I used to have a baby face. That I’m old­er. Or more mature.

It’s true that I feel com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent than the per­son I was five years ago. I tend to reflect and eval­u­ate on a dai­ly basis (which is far too often) so I nev­er get a sense of any long term changes.

But now that I’m in Hong Kong again, and I look back on the per­son I was the last time I was here, I see the changes much more dras­ti­cal­ly.

It’s reflect­ed in ways that I’m not accus­tomed to notic­ing. Not just in the way I see the world, but from the way I han­dle things. The way I speak with those old­er than me. My inter­ests in what they have to say. I did­n’t even start work­ing yet the last time I vis­it­ed.

But at the core, I’m still the same per­son. The same morals, the same log­ic, the same intel­lect. It seems like it’s only the way these core traits man­i­fest them­selves that has changed, most like­ly from the things I’ve been through.

Five years is a long time to be so blind to these changes.

It’s quite sur­pris­ing.

Here, Scared

Grandma’s at the hos­pi­tal. She woke up this morn­ing with pain all over her body, but more severe­ly in her low­er abdomen. They quick­ly drove her to the doc­tor, and it turns out there’s been a block­age in her colon. This after­noon they per­formed a pro­ce­dure to expand the colon, and it went through with­out any com­pli­ca­tions. She’s rest­ing at the hos­pi­tal for the night, and my fam­i­ly is tak­ing shifts to stay with her.

I’ve been stuck at home all day. Everyone else has been at the hos­pi­tal and they decid­ed to leave me behind. I’m on immune sup­press­ing med­ica­tions and the hos­pi­tal is full of germs; get­ting sick myself is the last thing I need, espe­cial­ly when it means that I would­n’t be able to see my grand­ma, as her immune sys­tem is even low­er than mine right now. I would only be in the way if I was there any­way.

I’m scared. I’ve nev­er dealt with any kind of sick­ness like this before. The only peo­ple in my fam­i­ly who have passed away were always far away in Hong Kong.

And now I’m here.

A Day in the Hong Kong Life

Crossing the street

Thumbnail: Dad with sum sum
Thumbnail: Chinese entranceway shrine
Thumbnail: Grandma at tea
Thumbnail: Indoor skating rink
Thumbnail: Skater
Thumbnail: Kid on motorcycle
Thumbnail: Hong Kong mall
Thumbnail: Row of Mercedes
Thumbnail: Open kitchen
Thumbnail: Grandma with aunt
 

Grandma has been han­dling the chemo well. We’re try­ing to slow the growth of the major tumor so that there are no block­ages. She’s not sup­posed to eat meat, but we want her to enjoy life (along with the fact that we’re glad she’s eat­ing at all because she has no appetite) so we let her.

Most days are unplanned, just see­ing how she’s feel­ing before we decide to do any­thing.

I’m begin­ning to sleep a lit­tle bet­ter now. For the first week and a half, I’d still wake up in the mid­dle of the night, unable to fall asleep again even though I’d be com­plete­ly exhaust­ed from jet lag and walk­ing around all day. I’m not sure if I’m just get­ting used to the day/night pat­tern, or the fact that I’m taper­ing off one of my col­i­tis med­ica­tions which has sleep­less­ness as one of the side effects.

So the cur­rent sched­ule is:

  • Wake up around 7:30
  • Eat break­fast
  • Watch TV with grand­ma
  • Fall asleep on the couch — The win­dows are left open all the time and the air is rel­a­tive­ly cool in the morn­ing, so i’ll just let myself suc­cumb to the breeze and drowsi­ness. Normally I need to be lying down, wear­ing a sleep mask, but not in this case. These naps are awe­some.
  • Eat lunch
  • An activ­i­ty with grand­ma if she’s feel­ing up to it — this can be a walk to the park, get­ting her hair done and her feet mas­saged, or a walk to a restau­rant
  • Afternoon tea — Snacks can be sweet, salty, or both
  • A chance to write, work on pic­tures, or edit videos because grand­ma takes a nap
  • Have din­ner
  • Hang out with guests/family
  • Watch TV — There are two shows that seem to be big right now that my fam­i­ly enjoys watch­ing; an under­cov­er cop tele­vi­sion dra­ma, and a Chinese fan­ta­sy called “Big Winter Melon”. I’m real­ly get­ting into the for­mer because it’s well writ­ten with lots of inten­si­ty (although the direct­ing style is so out-dat­ed by Hollywood stan­dards). The lat­ter is anoth­er story…I’ve tried watch­ing a few episodes and still can’t fig­ure out what’s going on, or even if it’s a com­e­dy or dra­ma.
  • Shower (a nice way to cool off before going to bed)
  • Some more writ­ing while every­one is asleep.

It’s been an end­less cycle of peo­ple com­ing through the house, whether it’s fam­i­ly or friends, din­ner or tea, a chat or a vis­it. Spending time with them leaves me some­what lack­adaisi­cal. I don’t want to be anti-social and get up to do some­thing else, but I’m rarely involved in any of the con­ver­sa­tions, and the top­ics are often vapid.

Unfortunately, I haven’t had a chance to hang out with my Uncle Joe much because I’m try­ing spend as much time with grand­ma as pos­si­ble, but next week should offer a bet­ter oppor­tu­ni­ty. I hope to do more explor­ing then.

It’s cer­tain­ly a bit­ter­sweet exis­tence here. Being in Hong Kong again fills me with won­der, but see­ing my poor grand­moth­er going through so much breaks my heart.