Archive for April, 2011

My boy is turning 7 this month. He is all excited about his birthday. He wants his birthday present to be a surprise. “Mummy and daddy, will you sneak out of the house to buy my present?” He wants to celebrate his birthday on a Sunday. He does not want to celebrate it on the actual day because he has to go to school, then he has to do homework in the afternoon and then he has to wait till daddy comes back from work before he can eat his cake and open his presents.

So he chose a Sunday, not Saturday because on Saturday he knows we have to run around to do chores and buy groceries and such. He wants to wake up and rush to the computer to play computer games. *slaps forehead* We have no idea what to buy for him. The kids have too many books and toys. We overindulge. I think we enjoy buying books and toys for them more than they enoy getting them. They have become avid readers as a result but sadly, they have no time to play with their numerous toys.

My girl will be turning 9 next month. That is the age I was when mum passed away. How time flies. Now I am a mum myself to a 9 year old. Amazing. “Mummy, for my birthday, can you give me RM2. I want to buy the star paper from the school bookshop.” Such simplicity. I am glad its not “Mummy, can I have a handphone, a laptop, an iPod” etc…. We shall enjoy this simplicity for a couple of years more after which, I think, peer pressure will set in and with it some unreasonable demands perhaps? We’ll come to that when the time comes.

Even my girl feels that she is  growing up. Just the other day she told me… “Mummy, last time I was in std 1 and I saw all this big big std 3 students, now I am the big big std 3 student.”

Children grow up so fast. You can’t say, I will spend more time with them, after I have earned enough money for their education, get my promotion, bought a house, etc. The time is now, right from the time they are conceived. For if you don’t, you will find that the time has come and gone and it can never be replaced and before you know it, they are teens and young adults. I have a few friends who leave the bringing up of their children entirely to their parents. After work, they go to their parent’s house for dinner and to play with the child for a while, then they go home without the kid (the child stays with the grandparents for “convenience”), then they bring the child home to stay with them during weekends.

I am indeed fortunate not to have to rely on anyone else to bring up the kids. I am fortunate not to miss any of their growing up moments. I hope that I will be able to continue to enjoy every moment with them for many more years.

I have almost forgotten it and that is a good thing. I forgot it last Friday, on 1st April. I only remembered it later on during the day.

Yes, it is four years ago now since that awful April Fool’s Day. The day when I had 3 seizures in a day. It still spooks me to think about it and it spooks me even more not to be able to remember much about it. I just remember wearing a yellow towel about to have a shower. I bend down to switch on the little red  radio that daddy gave to me when I was 15. That was in the morning or afternoon I am not sure. The next thing I knew, it was night and I was getting into a car, then I remember the medical officer at the hospital asking me some questions. Horribly spooky. As if abducted by aliens or a walking zombie or something like that. Horrible to lose one’s memory even if only for a day. I can’t imagine how dad with dementia must be feeling.

Husband, sisters and children filled me in with the rest of the lost memory of that day. Husband said, I let out a loud scream, then children said I walked backwards and fell on the floor right in front of where they were playing.  (They were only 3 and 5 then. How scarry it must have been to see mummy in a seizure. Sigh.) Thats where I had the first fit. Then husband said he went out jogging and I called him to come home. (but I don’t remember calling him) He said I told him that my girl said it had happened again. 2nd fit. I had another one later on in the day and a decision was made to send me to hospital.

Sisters came and they said I was able to pack my clothes myself. I even spoke to them but my voice sounded strange, sort of squeaky like. I can’t remember any of it. Oh the horrible memory of it or perhaps it should be the non-memory of it. I am all right now. At one time I was so scared to remember, I even gave away that precious little red radio that dad gave me at age 15.

What I am not ok about is my girl inheriting her mummy’s bad genes. I was diagnosed with epilepsy at 41 but 2 years ago my girl was diagnosed with epilepsy at age 7.  I did not have this in childhood, teenhood, young adulthood. So I went about life with no restrictions. I swam, went snorkelling from a boat in the deep sea, went hiking, went drinking, drove home alone at 4am, stayed over at girlfriend’s houses, etc etc. I did all those things without fear or restrictions at different stages of my life. My poor girl is only 9. We are afraid for her. It saddens me terribly. I hope that she will outgrow this eventually. Having a seizure is not so bad because you don’t remember it unless you hurt yourself in the process. However, watching a loved one have a seizure is terrifying. You feel so helpless and sad. The memory of watching my girl have her first full blown seizure is something I don’t want to remember but I remember it clearly.

I have only had about 5 seizures in all including the 3 on that horrible day and my girl probably about the same number so we do not have it so bad. There are some who have to go through life with daily seizures. I can’t imagine how life must be like. That is why my msn status reads “Each day is a gift” but sometimes I forget that.

Recently we celebrated second sister’s 50th birhtday. 2nd sister is petite. She looks far from fifty. Lucky girl. Anyway, we started talking about birthday and birthday presents which made me remember my own birthday presents from hubby.

My husband likes only chocolate cake. I like some variety. Well, we are different as night and day as I have mentioned. He also claims that he does not know how to buy a cake. So usually on my birthday, he will drive me to the cake shop to buy……. a chocolate cake. One year, I was sulking away and grumbling. “Its my birthday, why should I buy the cake and I can’t even choose the cake I want. It has to be chocolate cake?” So I was having a black face and unhappy the whole morning. Worse still, he was rushing as we walk along as he usually does. He often walks in front of me while I have to half run half walk to catch up with him (previously) and with him and the kids (now). My face was blacker than ever.

Finally we went home and I found out the reason for the rush. A lorry drove up and reverse into the porch and there stood my birthday present, a piano to fulfill the dream that I had always wanted ie to play the piano. My face turned from black to red. Haha. How embarrassing to complain about a cake when there stood my dream.  That was a lesson in itself. A lesson not to look at small annoyances but to appreciate the  bigger picture. He was rushing so that we could make it home on time for the delivery, my birthday surprise. To him, it didn’t matter what flavour the cake was, he was more excited about the surprise he had planned. Oops!

Anyway, I always tease him and tell him that the present is not for me. It is for the kids to learn piano so it was disguised as a present for me. A few years later, I asked for an electronic dictionary for my birthday present. So that I can teach the kids. Again it was a present for the kids but disguised as a present for me.

Hmmm…… I was thinking that this year, I may ask him to get me an ipad 2. A present for the kids but disguised as one for me. That way, I will have better control of it. “Stop playing. That is mummy’s present!”  Then I can play with it as well.

Father has a private nurse looking after him to take care of his personal hygiene needs, changing his stoma bag etc. She also helps to make sure that he does his physio daily. She has a truly wonderful personalilty. So warm and caring. She really takes care of father very well. The way she talks and jokes with him and how she persuades and coax him is truly wonderful. Father even called  her “anak angkat” one day.

She is strong too and carries father to and from the wheelchair with professional ease. She is professional yet much more than that with her warm personality. Sometimes there are other trainee nurses who come along daily or there is a replacement for a day or two but none of them are the same. They are carrying out the job of a nurse and nothing more. No jokes. No banter. Just  sitting there with father.

We are truly fortunate to have her looking after father.

I think the biggest difference between a mundane worker and one that does a job extremely well is passion, love, commitment and believe for it. This nurse has it. Just like my kids’ paeditrician. She has it. Sometimes she does not charge me. At times she even calls me up to ask about the kids if they are very sick. One gynaecologist I saw before has it. She uses two offices and runs from one to another, busy like a bee but always with a smile on her face. I asked her how she manages to smile when she is so busy. She simply says “I love my job.” My neurologist has it. No matter how busy, he somehow manages to look relax and entertains most of my questions. These are very busy specialists indeed but I still see their humane side. Some specialists just go through the motions. In fact, I feel that they just can’t wait to get their patients out of the door so that they can see the next and the next. Understandably, they are very busy but then so are the rest.

The job that I love the most is the job of a mother. Yet, I think most of the time, I am like the second batch of specialists. The kind that just go through the motions and can’t wait for the patients to go out the door. I rush around with a frown most of the time. The little one will come and press my forehead to make the wrinkles go away and the big one will ask me to “Stop frowning mummy. Don’t frown. Smile.” I must make a more concious effort to be like the nurse who is more than a nurse. Smile more. Frown less. Love more. Slow down. Be happy at the job which I claim to be the happiest at. I surely don’t look it!