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I had a rough night. And this morning, I lost my temper. I couldn't hold it any longer. I know should be patient when dealing with people, especially Mum but I couldn't hold myself from being upset. I got up very much earlier just so I can test Mum's blood glucose level before injecting her with insulin. Her blood sugar was high. 15.9. I asked Siti; grandma's maid if Mum had anything this morning. Mum lied. She had bread because she was hungry. I had specific instruction from Prof SP Chan to make sure she fast before injecting her with insulin. Out of anger, I think I spoke with an upset tone telling Mum from the next time onwards, I will wake up very early to make sure she is injected before she takes her breakfast.
In the kitchen, I prepared Mum's meal, alfafa sprouts with bread on olive oil spread. As I pull out every strand of the alfafa sprouts from the plastic container, I couldn't control my tears. I felt angry at myself. I felt angry that I am angry with Mum. I felt useless and bad. Siti noticed I was sniffling away trying to control myself from crying. She gingerly placed a box of tissues next to me. I told her to pass the bread to Mum and I walked quietly into the room. I let go. I cried. And I felt better but still feel bad. I am going to go out and apologise to Mum. 
Been hectic in the past fortnight. People around me got ill, and I wasn't feeling too well either. A spate of diarrhoea hit the city. Bro was getting all the gastric pains and stomach upset. When such happen, we always wonder why. Is it the water? An erratic diet?
Fortunately, Mum escaped all that. Doctor gave Mum a new dosage for the drugs he prescribed. She just completed her first course of radiotherapy and her Cyberknife treatment is scheduled from the week of October 6. There was a little confusion at Wijaya International Medical Centre last week as patients were informed of a later appointment date and then at short notice, they were told the next day to see the doctor within the same day after their radiotherapy/chemotherapy session which resulted in the inconvenience of waiting. One of them got mad and started grumbling all the way to the lift.
What impressed me most while at the hospital was the diligence demonstrated by Audrey, the resident pharmacist. Since Mum has to take different dosages for her steroid on different days and week, Audrey separated them into five courses in different packets to avoid confusion later.
For more than five weeks, she has been on dexamethasone; a potent steroid hormone which acts as an anti-inflammatory and immunosuppressant because radiotherapy could result in swelling on the affected area. According to Wikipedia, dexamethasone is used in the treatment of brain tumours to counteract the development of edema, which could eventually compress other brain structures. Dexamethasone is also given in cord compression where a tumor is compressing the spinal cord. And since this steroid will increase sensitivity to stomach acid which could lead to gastric and ulcer, Doctor prescribed Zantac, the commercial name of ranitidine which inhibits stomach acid production. To ensure that nausea is managed effectively, he also gave Mum some metoclopramide in the form of Primperan.
With so many drugs she has to take at a certain time, the insulin jabs which Bro helps with twice a day, almost always we have to take matters into hand personally to ensure that she doesn't forget.
Mum wanted to cook today. The whole time since she was diagnosed, we discouraged her from hassling with the pots and pans, or being too near to the fire. It is understandable that prior to this, she had control over what we eat and the kitchen was her playground. Noticing this point, I decided that I should let her cook at least once. Since last week, she had been looking for an ingredient which she couldn't point out due to her not-too-great memory so yesterday I brought her to a bigger Jusco supermarket in Midvalley Megamall and let her take her time to browse through and pick the items herself.
As it turned out, she wanted miso paste (味噌, みそ). The thick, dark miso paste is typically made of fermented soybeans, or barley and rice, with salt and kōjikin (麹菌, こうじきん) fungus. And the colour of the paste depends largely on the kind of kōjikin used. I didn't realise mum is that familiar with Japanese ingredients. And that was not all, she picked a salmon fish head as well. She said, "I'm going to cook this for you tomorrow". I'm not a fan of fish head but I nodded obligingly.
Even though Mum didn't prepare most of the dishes served for lunch today; dark soy sauce chicken and my favourite stir-fried pumpkin but she did cook one dish in particular, all by herself. Her first attempt with miso pan-fried salmon fish head. She was inspired by a cooking show she watched on TV and so she tried it out herself. It was pretty good. I didn't know salmon fish head could taste good. And strangely, the flesh in the salmon head is not the usual pinkish orange colour. Its texture and colour are just like what you find on chicken meat.
While tucking into one part of the salmon head, I discovered its huge eyeball which Mum asked me take. Never in my gastronomical history have I ever consumed a fish eyeball but Mum was persistent in asking me to eat it and so I did. Heard fish eyeballs could improve vision. Whether it's a myth or a fact, I took a bite and swallowed it in an instant. Not as bad as I imagined, but yeah, I ate it. Yay!
I remember the last time I REALLY stepped into the women's section of a departmental store was with Mum in Hat Yai (หาดใหญ่), Thailand at least fifteen years ago. I was a kid, still dependent on tagging along with parents on their frequent trips to the southern part Thailand every year. I never particularly fancied the waiting and standing while the women in the family shopped, or being squeezed on the cheeks by those entrepreneurial and delightful Thai women peddling clothes in bazaars.
Last week, I braved the racks and rows of women apparels in search of Mum's clothes. For years Mum has not been getting new clothes for herself. As much as I can remember, she doesn't shop much for herself. I observed over time that she only bought children clothes for relatives' kids and snacks for us. To begin with, she is a very thrifty woman. She has been frugal about spending on and for herself, and over the years, just to make sure we have enough for school and make it through college. She wore mostly the same clothes.
"Why didn't I realise this sooner?"
It was this question which propelled me to the decision of getting her some new clothes. I always wondered what kind of gift I should get her on her birthday. Usually flowers, cards and cash. It never crossed my mind about getting her clothes. So I was set on this idea and made my way to the ladies department. Picked her two shirts and one shorts based solely on my instincts, and judging from the the size she wears; the day before I went through her clothes to have a general idea of her size and the sort of cutting suits her body frame.
As I laid the clothes at the cashier counter, the two lady cashiers looked at me and smiled teasingly. I smiled back bashfully and uttered in Malay, "Untuk ibu saya". In English they mean, "For my mum".
Mum tried on the clothes and I was relieved they fit her. Most important of all, she is comfortable wearing them. I was worried my choices were too out-of-style for her. I asked her which one she likes most.
"I like them all..."
I didn't see that coming. I was expecting her to say, "I like the red one". Or of the other. "I like them all" sounded abrupt but hit me right through endearingly. That's what we would hear from a mother. That goes to say, she really appreciates everything we are doing for her, and whatever we have done so far, she is deeply touched by it.
On the way back to Mum's, I passed by that place again; an orphanage nestled near the mosque within the vicinity of Old Klang Road, along Jalan Puchong. The sign reads, "Persatuan Pure Life", which translates to Pure Life Association in English. A day before, I mentioned it to Bro and Mum about the beautiful blossoms that resemble the sakura (櫻, さくら), also known as cherry blossoms. And Bro ignorantly thought they were for real.
On closer look, they are flowers of another kind. I remember a couple of years ago, Straits Times featured on this particular species of flower-bearing tree. Could not recall the name. I intend to bring Mum and Bro here to see these for themselves. One can't help but feel wonderful at such rare sight. The front office lady, Miss Devi who happened to pass by explained to me that they flower towards the end of August, every year. Some people would come with foldable chairs to sit and just enjoy their beauty.
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