Posted in True Story, Inspirational

How old is your kid or Jasmin Tea

Sitting in a lonely supposedly Thai café but menu seems more like Malaysian, I pull out my mini tab to start writing /typing.  I think of continuing my writing on my trip to China, but I realise that today was not the day.  I am on edge, even though everything has gone alright so far.  So I think to write about, ‘waiting’ – waiting for a bus, waiting at the airport, waiting for medical results and waiting for your son to come out of surgery”.

It was a very early morning start.  But I think I had already become jittery by last night. I laughed it out loud, hoping no one picks up on my nervous energy.  I want to be strong.  In my head I know the data, statistics and the logic. However this mother’s heart seems to skip all logic and starts tearing up each time she is alone. 

I don’t know what to write about. All I know is that I need to write or do something.  So here I am debating what to write about. 

What age is too old to worry about your kid? I know he is not 2, but he is still my kid, I didn’t love him any more when he was 2 and I don’t love him any less just because he is legally an adult now.  He is still my kid.   Am I a neurotic mum?  Yes, maybe. 

This Jasmine tea is really good.  It really has a calming effect.  Not sure if it is the Tea or the writing, but I think the tightness in my chest is reducing.  I am tearing up writing though, thankfully the cafe is empty, however I like to believe that this activity here is helping. 

So how old is a kid? How old is your kid? Sleepless nights-your baby is up for a feed and a nappy change,  Sleepless nights – your toddler is teething,  tantrums, sleepless nights – your teenager hasn’t returned home, restless nights – your young man is sitting for exams.  Proud mum moments –  you are pregnant, the beginning of the worries and pride, unforgettable moment-the big day arrives, after screams and pain killers arrives the bundle of joy – undoubtedly an unforgettable moment/event that marks as the starting point of the roller coaster for the proud parents.  Proud moments – your baby’s first step, first time to call you ‘mum’, first day at school, he graduates.  So does it end there? Afraid not. 

It’s not about letting go. I have let him go, I am proud that he has left the cocoon, spread his wings and soured high.   But this mother cannot stop worrying. 

I know it’s not my fault that he is in hospital now.  I have been told that by everyone repeatedly and I get that.  But, I still feel terrible. Even if it was not my fault, do I want him to go through what I went through? I would go through it again ten times over, than have my baby on that operating table.  But, whoever/whatever well in this case a mutated gene dictates otherwise.  Yes, I get that, we have turned the unfortunate to fortunate. It was unfortunate that I had the cancer, however it was fortunate that I had this cancer as now we can prevent it for my boys. 

Logic is still playing second fiddle while waiting for that phone call to say my boy is out of theatre.  I start walking.  I get to Princes Highway.  I start walking, I end up at Greenwood Plaza which is connected to the North Sydney Station.  Peek hour commuters embark from the trains and walk past me with high pace.  Each one rushing off, unable to spare even single second.  I was one of them just two decades ago. 

Here I am, who has quit her job, tossed her career without a moments regret.  Observing this crowd, I realise, how much we change, how our priorities change as per our age and circumstances. Nothing matters, when it comes to your kids.

I glance at my phone to see if I had missed the phone call from the hospital.  No missed calls.  I aimlessly walk through my favourite shops.  I realise, shopping can only be a hobby not a distraction.  The latest design nor the best deals seem to grab me. I got back to Princes Highway and started walking in the opposite direction.  Not sure how long I walked for or how far I walked for.  But after sometime I thought it was time to head back to the hospital.  Maybe they forgot to call me.

Weeks later we went to see my son’s surgeon, whose clinic is in St Leonards.  I recognized that place and told my son I had come there on the day of his surgery.  That’s when I realised that there are two stations between North Sydney and St. Leonard’s .  Obviously this is a new source of humour for my son on my account.  My son didn’t initially believe that I had walked that much or for what.  I explained that I just kept walking along Princes Highway.  So, now every time we have a destination to go via Princes Highway he would suggest that I just walk it.  Yes, he does think that my anxiety and worry was unwarranted.  But he is no parent.  (Princes Highway is a major road in Aus extends from NSW to South Australia along the coast roughly about 1980 kms).

I enquire at the reception re my son’s progress.  She sends me to the ward that my son will be admitted to after the surgery.  The nurse at the ward was a sweetheart. Obviously another mother.  She explains to me that my son was taken in late and hence the delay in coming out of theatre .  That explains the long wait. It still was no cure for a jittery mother.  Her kind words and empathy were helpful  though. She takes me to the carers waiting room/lounge. 

My tablet and phone were on the last bars of battery power.  The sweetheart nurse shows me to a small room off the lounge where I could charge my electronics. I think doctors heal your ailment and the nurses complete it with healing your heart.

 I  am alone once again in a small room.  Although we detest solitude, it is still necessary. It plays an important part in reasoning , analysing and self healing.  I lasted all of ten minutes or maybe less with that philosophy.  I leave my phone and tablet to charge and join the rest of the zombies in the carer lounge.  The TV was on with same old, same old – someone was shot, a politician said something controversial, hurricane in Japan, some celebrity that no one knows or cares about is now engaged and another divorced, but still no news about my son.

There was no Jasmin tea in the waiting area. I make a mental note to myself, that I should add that to the “suggestions/complains” on the discharge form.  I was pretty sure another cup of Jasmin Tea is what I needed.  Not wanting to unplug my electronics I settle for a black tea and for some more of the world news.  The world seems to continue even with all the atrocities and disasters.  I finally get a call from the anesthetic to say that my boy has done well.  And that is my world.  We have our set backs. But life has a way of working out in the end.   My boy will get through this. we will get through this.

Posted in love, True Story, Inspirational

Waiting….

waiting

There is a possibility that hubby would be back home in two days or three.  I am planning to cook up a storm tomorrow.  Cakes,quiche and curries are in the do list.


 

I am waiting to hug and to be hugged

I am waiting like when I was nineteen

What’s wrong me with me I think, I should have enjoyed the peace and quiet

But I was waiting ..

for a phone call or a silly text

I remind myself, I am not nineteen

But I know him better now than when I was nineteen

We have been through so much and love has kept us together

Together we waited for so many things

 

Waiting for the pregnancy test results was nerve wrecking

Waiting for the two bundles to be born was exciting

Waiting at the house auction was nerve wrecking

But together we made all those waits worthwhile

 

I am waiting to see him walk through that door..

Looking slim and slender (HA!HA – I can see the pigs taking off to the air already)

With his arms wide open – Most likely it would be the dog who would get the first greeting

With a bunch of fresh Dandelions for his Girl (Dandelions you ask!!  read my post on the Dandelion Guy – https://uma197.wordpress.com/2017/01/19/the-story-of-the-dandelion-guy/ )

 

Waiting becomes so much more bearable when you can wait with someone.

Waiting becomes worthwhile when you are waiting for that someone.

 

I am waiting to live the rest of my life with my love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Daily post

Waiting ….

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I miss mum

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What’s taking her so long?

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Hang on! Is that mum’s car?

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Yes I think so.  Finally.


 

Waiting…

Waiting is part excitement and part anguish. The part anguish is made up of plethora of sub emotions.  Anguish divvies into several heads like the Hindu Gods.  Boredom, impatience and then progresses to annoyance, irritation and finally escalates to panic.  Usually does a full circle and completes with relief and sometimes unfortunately disappointment.

This was my great epiphany while waiting for my mum at the airport.

Mum was returning after her three month holiday overseas.  I cooked, shopped and stocked her fridge yesterday.  Set my alarm up for an early start.  Tossed and turned all night, worrying if I may miss the alarm.  Woke up earlier than the alarm and thought it was for the best.  But still the daily chores got in the way of being early at the airport.

As per ‘Murphy’s Law’ every slow driver and every red light was my companion for the drive.  After circling three times, I finally manage to park my car.  I was just hoping that for my sake that either there was a delay in baggage collection or at customs and that mum wasn’t waiting anxiously for me.

I glance at the flight status board as I rush in.  Good, the flight has not landed.  I contemplate grabbing a coffee, I didn’t want to part with the money just as mum exited those doors.  I decided on having that coffee after all.  Made the request for a short macchiatto, just in case I didn’t have enough time to finish a larger coffee.  Perched myself on the bar stool that had the direct view of the arrivals.  Even though I was running late, I still came prepared with my little ‘mini tab’ to do some writing.  Just in case.

By this time it was half an hour passed arrival time.  Flight status remained the same.  Another fifteen minutes passes.  Under the guise of writing my emotions were getting the better of me.  I skipped boredom.  Patience – I wasn’t impatient waiting but the airport arrivals website was definitely testing my patience.  

As per the website there was no mention of the aircraft.  This website is supposed to show all flights that was meant to arrive on that day and their flight status.  Frustrated,  I decided to check the Malaysian airlines website.  It stated that the plane had departed Malaysia.  And that’s all.  No mention of delayed or approximate time of arrival.  I gave another ten minutes and checked the two websites again.  Same messages.  On Adelaide airport’s website there was no mention or acknowledgement of the aircraft and Malaysian Airlines just says that it departed.

My mind was refusing to come out of the pit of panic.  Fates of MH137 and MH17 infiltrates logical thinking.  My positive outlook and glass half full attitude were shying away to the back seat.  Still I muster everything in me not to panic as I logically think that no one else was panicking around me.  I think maybe just maybe ‘flight tracker’ should/could tell me more.  Thankfully it did.  The flight was delayed approximately by one hour.  Sigh of relief.

The emotions start all over again once the passengers start to arrive.  I am regular at airport pickup as my husband travels a lot for work.  Also, I always offer to pick friends, relatives, exchange students (Just those who are going to stay with me).  It always feels the same.  They are never the first ones to come out.  I start to wonder if mum was having issues at customs or quarantine.  More at quarantine, if she has brought some food item that is not allowed in Australia.  We always joke that bringing drugs into our country might be easier than bringing some fruit.  Fellow Aussies think about it a kilo of drugs vs a kilo of bananas?  I share this joke in a hushed voice to the guy sitting next to me to kill time.

Finally I see a familiar face and a familiar load of luggage. Mum doesn’t believe in travelling light.  I hug her tight with relief.  I didn’t even comment on her luggage.

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/patience/