Still Uncertain

My dad's extended lab result is with me, but I need the specialist to interpret it, and he's outstation. That leaves my dad (and us) in a lot of anxiety, counting the days until the specialist is back from Brunei.

Based on the diagnostic description, the tissue sample is defined as "mediastinal tumor". I actually sent it for further analysis to SJMC, and the diagnosis that came back was "lymphocyte rich thymoma". So I have a feeling that it is a confirmed growth in my dad's chest, whether it is benign or malignant, that is up to the specialist to tell us. All I know is that it may require surgery, which means most probably my dad will be refered to IJN.

In the mean time, my dad is going for alternative medicine plus some traditional massage. His cough is becoming unbearable, and he gets tired even going to the bathroom. Sleepwise, he still has to lean back and sleep, and he will start getting his spasm around 2 or 3am. The cough will subside if one of us massage his back. That somehow will alleviate the spasm, and it is a relief to see him catch on his sleep right through the morning. He actually sleeps better after Fajr prayer, and sometimes we don't have the heart to wake him up for breakfast.

And we are still counting the days for Tuesday when Dato' Dr J will be available for consultation...

Adam is 8!

I remember he was overdued. My gynae asked me to come back in 2 days time to have an induced birth. It was a gruelling 7 hours of labor pain, especially after she broke my waterbag. To make matters worse, my cervix was only opening up to 4 cm. The heartbeat monitor showed that Adam's heartbeat was weakening, so my gynae decided that it had to be a Caesarean section afterall.

I was already tired and restless, enduring the continous pain, pulling my internal muscles. It felt like my tummy was being sliced and pulled, and I endured it without epidural, it was just the gas. My lips were constantly reciting prayers, wishing that would alleviate the agony. When I was handed the pen to sign the consent letter for the C-Section, I just scribbled away without reading the fineprints. My first baby was too contented inside me, not wanting to come out and see the world. And I just couldn't stand it anymore. My husband had been standing besides me for hours, and I was sure that he couldn't stand to see me in pain anymore.

All I could remember after that was the anesthetician calling my name and reciting "Bismillahirahmanirahim.." and after that I passed out. I woke up to the excruciating pain at my lower abdomen, again saying my Creator's name, Allah, Allah..and calling out to my husband that I needed painkillers. I remembered him kissing me softly in my forehead, I guess thanking me for delivering him a son.

Later, still in the daze, I recalled my husband and the peaditrician discussing something, and moments later, Adam was brought to me. I distinctly connected to the two big eyes, looking at me, and my heart expanded, proud to be a mom finally. "Assalamualaikum.." I whispered to his ears. My joy subsided when the gynae announced to me that my firstborn might have some problems. I shook my head in disbelief, and checked all his fingers and ran through his little, soft figure. "No, nothing's wrong," I said to myself. I looked at my husband in the eyes, and I see sadness there. "What is wrong?"

The paeditrician said that our son showed some features of Cornelia de Lange syndrome in his physicals. The moment i heard the word "syndrome", I burst into tears. After that I did not hear what she was saying anymore...my husband was comforting me. My baby had to go through some tests to make sure that he was alright. But after scrutinizing my son's features, I realized that his legs are rather small, and his feet are tiny too. The paeditrician told us to be prepared to put my baby for physio-theraphy as he might have problems balancing his weight, and perhaps could not even walk.

As a mother, I refused to accept that diagnosis. Throughout his two-year babyhood, we worked hard with the physiotherapist to ensure he could correct his walking posture. My heart sank everytime we underwent theraphy, as he will scream my name and refused to continue as it was very uncomfortable for him, perhaps painful as well. Nevertheless, we braved through that, and he finally could move his two feet unassisted and formed steps when he was about 25 months.

Now, Adam looks like any other child in Primary Two. He even has admirers from the big sisters in Primary Five and Six, maybe because of his chubby face. Once in a while, he will complain about the pain in his right leg, as he still cannot endure long walks and intensive exercises in school. He may be slow in class, but I guess he will take his time. He may need special classes, but as long as he knows he has his parents supporting him, he will always be the dreamy boy with cheeky imaginations with two big round eyes..

Uncertainties

There comes a certain point in life where we have to face the facts that our parents are starting to show signs of ailment. My dad has been in and out of the hospital for the past 3 days after 3 weeks of prolonged cough. The x-ray and CT scan showed a tumor the size of an apple lies between his heart and the liver. My siblings and I are now faced with uncertainties, not knowing what is actually the diagnosis.

The treating physician is claiming that this is a rare case. He gathered his panel of experts in his department to look at my dad's case, and the more we are panicking. My dad has to go through a biopsy procedure to collect some tissue sample from the growth. Being in a public hospital, you have to work your way around to get faster diagnosis and results. I had to send the specimen to an external lab and now the results are with me. I can't make heads or tails out of the fax copy sent to me, but from the words "lymphocytic thymoma" - I figured it must have got to do something with cancer. My heart sunk when I read the definitions, but it has yet to be translated by the specialist.

And the appointment is tomorrow. I shy away from thinking about it the whole day today by making myself consumed with work that has been delayed for the past few days. When my dad was in the hospital, he kept himself amused by cracking jokes with the nurses and fellow wardmates. He was in the coronary rehabilition ward, and those admitted there a far ailing than he is. But I guess his optimisim is the only way to make himself forget about the tormenting truth planted there in his chest.

I fear going through a sleepless night tonight. As I write this, my eyes are already blurring with tears, unsure of what is coming tomorrow. I am hoping for the best for my dad, the moment of truth when his doctor will translate the lab results...

Maid in Malaysia

I don't know how many would agree with me, but we working moms certainly depend on our domestic helpers, or infamously known as the "maid" to take care of our daily chores and most importantly the routines of our children. Can you believe it (especially those without the extended network called Wan/Opah/Nenek/Tok/Nana) that we actually put 100% faith into the hands of our maids to take care of our precious little ones everytime we leave for work?

But having domestic help not only challenge your stress level, but also your health level. Eventually, these two are interconnected by the way. You never put high expectation on the maid anyways. The least you expect is that your kids are well-fed, the laundry is done, and the house is, to say the least, swept. But when you called home and your four-year-old is providing a detailed CNN-like report on her caretaker watching those Chinese/Indonesian/Thai serials since lunch till 5pm, and been postponing your daughter's request for milk and her abang's request for cokodok for snacks..which mother, tell me my friends, will not scream??

Like one of those Azean Irdawaty's Cerekerama line.."you made my blood go upstairs!!" - that's what my maid has been doing to me. I actually prepared her a daily list of what-to-dos, with specific sequence, responding the the fact that she always "forgets" my instructions. But what can you say if she said "saya lupa tengok jadual itu buk!". My blood is now going up the sky!!

I don't like to scold people, but the things she did just made me boiled inside. I never raised my voice before, but with her, I have been transformed into those mean-old employer babbling with snickering looks everytime she comes home to check the kitchen. She doesn't have to go anywhere else because that would stir another explosion. And that is me, every single working day...counting the days till her contract expires, hoping to get a better replacement, but deep down inside, there's always the doubt that all maids are from hell.