Insulin Shots and a New Haircut

It was Mum's third appointment with Professor SP Chan. We made sure we reach UM Specialist Centre before 4PM. By then there were already quite a number of people waiting and we were the seventh on the queue. A long heavy rain followed as we waited for Professor to arrive. While at that, I took the opportunity to take some pictures of Mum, and Bro; with her new haircut which looks refreshing! It was funny seeing Bro adjusting her hair, tidying it up for the photo.

A couple of days earlier, her doctor at Wijaya International Medical Centre advised her to shave her hair or have it cut short as the radiotherapy sessions will make her scalp look patchy. Aunt Amelia wanted to bring Mum to the hair saloon but Mum wanted to keep it simple so aunt cut it for her with a pair of tailoring scissors.

It wasn't long after Professor arrived at her clinic, Mum's name was called and we hurried in, taking out Mum's blood sugar logbook to show her. Professor was not too happy with the effectiveness of Gliclazide as she's worried about the steroids Mum are taking this week and the next. To be on the safer side, she decided to get Mum on an insulin shot routine. She's to go on a shot of 18 units of NovoMix Insulin Aspart during breakfast, with an additional 4 units if her blood sugar level is above 15. And during dinner, 6 units of NovoRapid Insulin Aspart with an additional 2 units if her blood sugar level goes past 15.

Discovering GBM

"Why is this happening to me?"

"What did I do to deserve this?"

These two questions which Mum uttered when she first came to realise her condition, till this day, still ring in my head every now and then. I remember vividly on that Monday morning, July 19, 2008, right after the neurologist explained to us on the outcome of the biopsy, with dad in presence, we went into a state of shock. I was stunned. Dad probably did not have a clue just yet what Prof. Vicky said in English. The term he used, GBM or Glioblastoma multiforme, sounded foreign. His dry humour didn't hit our turf.

"Look at this way, at least it's going to be painless, and you won't feel much."

How could that be funny? I know Professor was trying to make it sound positive but we certainly were not amused. Words like "five months", I bet Dad can understand. By then, things started to make more sense and we began to see the reality of the whole situation. I could not read what was in Mum's head. But she was clearly deep in her thoughts. And I tried really hard keeping her mind off by telling her about work and talking fondly about how surprisingly friendly the nurses were there.

At the payment counter, I insisted on paying for the doctor's consultation fees which Mum persistently pressed that she is responsible for. I told her, "Mum, I'm your son. It's time I take care of you. Don't worry about this. Let me handle it." She was worried about me, about my financial health. Just a week ago, I paid the remaining balance of her hospitalisation fees and other clinical charges which run in four figures. That was the start to a series of modern day medical costs cancer patients would have to bear. It was the least of my concern as I just want Mum to be well again. I will do whatever it takes to bring her for treatments and consult with specialists as long as they are confident of healing her.