I Believe In The Magic Of Christmas

I do believe in the magic of Christmas after all.  It was nothing short of a miracle that Dad could be discharged just in time to come home for Christmas.  

When he suffered that stroke last Thursday, he looked so frail and he could not lift his left arm and leg.  An MRI later revealed that he had quite a few blockages and the situation could have been disastrous if Mum had not taken him to the hospital in time.  From what the doctors and nurses had been telling us, it looked like he would be hospitalized for at least a week to two weeks, maybe more.   It did not help that from time to time, Dad's frustrations at being 'confined' had made him defiant and not willing to cooperate with the therapist when it came to his rehabilitative exercises.

However, Mum and I were at the hospital daily to comfort him, kept him company and persuaded him to focus on recovery.  I was determined that Dad did not give up,  So I spent that time talking about his days as a politically detainee and searched for photographs of his old friends who were fellow ex-detainees on my iPad so that it could trigger his memory.  I gave the other patients around him names too.  I named them after his old friends just because some of them resembled his old cronies, and that made him laugh a lot. To help bring back strength to his left hand, I persuaded him to "ring the door bell and run away". So, he rang the buzzer to call for the nurse, and when the nurse turned up by his bedside, he said "I don't need anything."  That annoyed the nurses, but both of us had such a good laugh.

Perhaps, the laughter, the old stories, the company, and just knowing that his family loved and supported him, was enough to motivate Dad to recover enough to get discharged earlier than expected.  

So while we cancelled every Christmas party, my parents' 45th wedding anniversary party and several other social engagements, I went ahead to host our annual family Christmas Eve dinner.  Dad gamely showed up at my home for that dinner, the day he got discharged.  Understandably, he still looked frail, but noticeably happy.  And he had a glass of wine too to celebrate Christmas with us.

When I looked at my entire extended family happily chatting around Dad, I was a-washed with bliss.  I felt so much gratitude for the prayers for Dad from my friends in Singapore and all over the world.  When mum and I were feeling so down because of Dad's hospitalization, the only reason we had hope was because of the prayers of everyone who supported us.  So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for helping me BELIEVE in the magic of Christmas.

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 44 year old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a Marketing and PR professional at a financial institution, her hobby as a Certified Professional Tarot Reader and Numerologist, and her family which includes a 20 year old son and 3 dogs with personality disorders.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the colloquail term when translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".   Together, we create a home made up with more nuts than a fruitcake but filled with plenty of love.

I truly do

Dad  - Blending in with the sofa.  He looked tired but happy

Mum and I having a good laugh at
the antics Dad and I got up to at the hospital

The antics never cease.  Grandma did not realise that I clipped a wee Santa's hat on her head.  She went home looking like that.

Our roast turkey with figs and chestnut stuffing.
It was the best turkey yet.

David cooked these.  Roasted potatoes with rosemary,
roasted parsnips with honey, roasted carrots with orange juice and brussels sprouts with wasabi glaze

David, the exhausted chef

An Indomitable Spirit

"Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from indomitable will." ~ Mahatma Ghandi

A Change of Plans For Christmas 

We had big plans for the year-end merry-making.  Mum was preparing to whip up a big lunch the weekend before Christmas, to celebrate the Winter Solstice.   I was going to be hosting our annual family Christmas Eve dinner.  On 27th December, Mum organized a big dinner party to celebrate my parents' 45th wedding anniversary. Dotted in between these, we have got several invitations to join our friends in their Christmas celebrations.

However, these plans had to change.

Dad Is not Well

Dad was suddenly hit with a stroke and  taken to the hospital where he was also diagnosed for Parkinson's disease and dementia.  That meant he will need to be religious about his long term rehabilitative program after he got discharged.   In fact, Dad was diagnosed with a silent stroke a few years back and the neurosurgeon did advise that he should do his rehabilitative exercises regularly.  Of course, Dad was stubborn and would rather continue eating and living well in his own way than to spend time in and out of the rehabilitative cente. Even when his mobility deteriorated to the point where Mum had to assist him with basic activities like bathing, eating and walking, he would make an effort to shuffle from the bedroom to the living room, holding onto furniture for support along the way.  We were not thrilled by this because we were worried about him falling at some point but we could not stop him.

Well, this time round it certainly was not a silent one.  His left arm and leg got impacted, his speech slurred more, and he looked confused.  I had seen Dad become increasingly frail over the years, but I have never seen Dad looking completely lost and feeling helpless.  My heart broke when I saw him being wheeled through the doors to get to his MRI session.  His even frailer form looked so broken.  However, no matter how ill or weak he was, I detected fire in his eyes.

He Still Has Fire In His Belly

His frail frame disguised the fire in his belly.

When the therapist came along to ask how old he was, he slurred defiantly, "..as old as the hills...and older than you."  When the therapist asked him to point to his eye with his finger, and then to point to his tummy next, he slurred even more defiantly, "You are asking me to do such a simple thing?"   I had a good laugh as I thought, "That was not a question honey, my Dad wants you to stop insulting his intelligence."  He struggled to get out of his bed and told me as he pointed to the nurses, "Come on, let's go.  They are preparing for us to leave."    The nurse told him that he was not going to be able to go home just yet.  So he looked squarely at her and challenged, " That is what you say."   For once, I was thankful that he was not mobile enough to put himself in any danger.  I was however impressed that in spite of his frailty, that indomitable spirit never waned.

I grew up watching and learning from that indomitable spirit. Just before he was incarcerated without trial for his "off-center" political views in 1978,  I remembered the moments when the lackeys of the Establishment marched Dad, in handcuffs, into our home while I was having Mandarin lessons with the tutor.  I saw  how frail and helpless Dad looked then ( like he did just now as he was wheeled out of the ward for his MRI session)  surrounded by a bunch of burley men hiding behind dark glasses, walkie-talkies and cheap plastic name tags.   Yet, at that point, he tried to be stoic and promised Mum and I  that all was going to be fine.  I was however, mortified that these strangers could barge into my home to disturb the peace of a once happy family.  I was extremely angry that they handcuffed a man with alternative political views when that handcuff should be reserved for common criminals. I was even more aghast at the thought that Dad was going to be taken away from us, without trial, without any ability to defend himself.  I rushed towards Dad  shouting " Let him go, you bastards.  He is not a criminal."   Dad shot them a very angry look.  It took me years to realize the anger was not at what had happend to him, but at the terrible way in which they handled the issue in front of his family that included an 8 year old.   His indomitable spirit never waned even then, as he just wanted to protect his family.

Bringing Christmas To Dad

Dad's condition will not get better.  That is the fact about stroke.  It is a condition that should be managed, but it will never get better.  As the doctors put him through tests after tests here at the hospital, he said, " They are wasting my time."  I agree.  They are.  I felt his frustrations.  I am sure somewhere in these tests, they are doing something productive to help him get better but I am not seeing it just yet.  His lack of rest at the hospital is not helping.   I wished I could take him home with me now and we could all have a fabulous Christmas celebration together as a family.  But I know that is not possible.  So, like Dad, with his indomitable spirit, if he cannot join me for our annual family Christmas Eve dinner, I will bring the Christmas revelry to him at the hospital on Christmas Day. 

Joel, please chill the wine already.

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 44 year old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a Marketing and PR professional at a financial institution, her hobby as a Certified Professional Tarot Reader and Numerologist, and her family which includes a 20 year old son and 3 dogs with personality disorders.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the colloquail term when translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".   Together, we create a home made up with more nuts than a fruitcake but filled with plenty of love.

This is Dad when he was younger.  Wasn't exactly David Hasselhoff..more like an Asian Che Guevera eh? This picture was taken during a family vacation at Desaru Beach in Malaysia. I remembered he lost his glasses in the waves.

Unconditional Love

In Good Times And In Bad

Today,  I learnt an important lesson about Unconditional Love from a little love-note Dad had written to Mom as a birthday gift for her this morning, with his fragile, stroke-strickened hand.  That note was scrawled with crooked letters that was barely legible but it was well-strung together to create such a meaningful impact that almost brought tears to my eyes.

This was what the note said - "Elaine, Happy Birthday.  Thank you for the unconditional love and care you've given me.  Bock Chuan"  Such a simple note, but it carried a lifetime of joy, sorrow, laughter, tears, pain and gratification.  This note underscored my parents' lifelong commitment to their marital vows to stick by each other in good times and in bad, for richer and for poorer, till death do they part.

A Commitment

Decades ago, when Dad was incarcerated for months, for "alternative"political views by the establishment, Mum spent those months in a daze, lost in the dark woods of despair, not having Dad beside her to  assure her that everything was going to be okay.  It was her will to keep the family together, that led her to march right up to Dad's boss at work to demand that he continued to pay Dad his salary and to keep Dad's job while we waited for his release from incarceration.   I thought Mum was bold then, but really, she was driven by her love and commitment for Dad.

Today, Mum cares for Dad as his mobility had been affected by what they called, a "silent" stroke.  Naturally, Dad's health deteriorated with age and  because of his condition.  Mum showers, changes and feeds him everyday.  She talks to him and urges him to walk, or rather shuffle, a little, just to get him to be active.  Undaunted by the heavy wheelchair, handicap-unfriendly public transport, staircases everywhere, the blazing sun or a heavy downpour, she made it a point to take him out regularly so that he could still enjoy the great outdoors, meet people, and eat his favourite foods at his favourite restaurants.

Dad's mind is still lucid although a little slow, and sometimes he might look a little dazed and confused because he needed more time to process information that he sees or hears.  However, it must be true love, that rendered it needless to process this.  Their housekeeper, Marites, on learning that my Aunt Shirley was returning to Singapore for a visit from Seattle, asked Dad what Aunt Shirley looked like.  Marites had never met Aunt Shirley and was curious to know if Mum and Aunt Shirley looked alike, as  sisters should.  So Marites asked Dad who was prettier, Aunt Shirley or my Mum.  Dad immediately retorted that Mum was prettiest!  Mum laughed so hard and one could see her face lighting up like a school girl having a crush when she heard that.

Guiding My Marriage With The Same Commitment

The commitment between Mum and Dad have truly inspired me to guide my own marriage that way.  I hope David and I will grow old together holding each others hands in good times and in bad, for richer or for poorer the way Mum and Dad did.  In fact, I don't hope, I know I will because David said the other day to me, " I don't always like being married, but I love being married to you."

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 44 years old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a marketeer at a financial institution, her hobby as a certified professional tarot reader and numerologist, and her family which includes a 20 year old son.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the term when loosely translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

Dad and Mum on their wedding day on 27 Dec 1968...hmm...interesting..it doesn't add up...I was born on 1 Aug 1969!

Can't remember when this was taken, but clearly Dad was looking like "Da Boss!"

Dad and Mum at Gardens By The Bay when it first opened in 2012. Mum looked like "Da-Boss" now!

Dad and I enjoying a bit of father-daughter banter on 13 August 2013 after celebrating Mum's birthday with a scrumptious dinner

Dad's love-note to Mum, scribbled with his fragile hands that can't even feed himself with ease.
Now, that's  unconditional love.