Decisions

The decisions to stop treatment, or to, continue it, weighing the pros and cons of it, over, over, and over again, in our minds, and, we can only pray that in the end, we’d, made the, right choices by our loved ones.

Upon reading Marcie’s “Difficult Choice” on August 25^th, I was moved, this hard-to-master lesson of life, is, harder to solve than the, mathematical, equations.

I was forty-two on the year, thought of how at age forty-two, my father caught me, who let out the very first cries of my life, and how time flew quickly by, turned all our hairs white, made him hunched in the back, and, eroded away, his aging, skins.  I’d squatted down, helplessly, in the hallways of the hospital, with my arms around my knees, I’d, broken down and cried.  The sun still radiant outside, while my world had, crumbled down, no longer, is it, a full-circle again.

this…

photo from online

After the marrow was extracted, the biopsies on his liver done, I’d, pushed him back to his ward.  “Ouch!” that was the only word he’d, mumbled aloud after he came to, following that, he’d, drifted into that cycle of, never-ending, eternal, waking and sleeping.

The eyes behind the glasses, with that genuineness about it, said, “sir is too elderly and too weakened in physical strengths, I’m afraid, that he won’t able to get through the chemotherapy or the surgeries, you and your families must make up your minds, don’t leave the regrets for tomorrow, the patients are in pain, the families, in even more, pain.”  The young resident stated these words, that, made my heart twisted up even tighter, can it, not be, a “multiple choice” question?

Three years ago, my eldest uncle fell seriously ill, my older cousins couldn’t let him go, his life was, spared, but, he was kept alive, with all those, tubes going in and out of his body, it’d, made the families, relatives, and friends wondered, can we, tie him down with love, to save his body, because we don’t want him to go?  Then, two months later, he’d gone, and, my older cousin kneeled down in front of the altar, and cried like hell, and blamed himself for making the wrong decisions to save his own father then, that he shouldn’t have, put his own father through those two more months’ worth of, trials in the body.

AS my younger brother heard the surgeon’s statements, he’d exclaimed aloud, “of course, SAVE him!”  “my father’s a military man, he would NOT want to live on like this, I want to save him too, but, as his daughter, I know I can’t be, so, selfish”, I’d, finally, got those, words out, and after that, my heart had a hole in it.  My youngest sister cried, shook her head, and waved her hands no too, she was, my father’s, favorite, youngest child, it’s, simply, too difficult, for her, to voice her thought on the matter.

or this…

saying their, final, goodbyes…and letting go…photo from online

I’d, pushed that hospital bed, with all his belongings, took him to the hospice ward.  It is, very hard to describe what it’s like in there, there are the hopes and expectations of getting out one day on all the other, floors, while here, the patients are, walking, a step closer to death by the day, but it’s, not just that.

As we entered into the hospice, my crying, stopped, the sorrows are, all over the places, but my father looked, more at peace, and, as he woke, he’d said, apologetically to me, “it’d been trying on you”.  my foolish dad, can you, breathe, a bit longer, so, your children can, hold you in their arms, longer, so I can, be a daughter, with a father still?

After a full month in the hospice, I took dad home.  In the company of his children and grandchildren, without those tubes going in and out of his body that made his life even harder, he’d gained, an, extra month, two days after Father’s Day, he’d selected to, fall, into, that eternal, sleep, and thus, our, scents of, missing him, started, rooting downward.

So this would be, one of the, hardest decisions that someone is forced to make, to save the loved ones or to just, let them go, I mean, there’s, a lot to, consider in the matter, are you, willing to, try your loved ones longer, just so you can have them with you longer, or, would you be willing to, say your, goodbyes to them, and, leaving, no love unsaid, and, just, let them go?

What’s the BEST Way, to Let Someone Know, that S/he is, Making You, Uncomfortable???

And I still have to apologize, for being, a bit, BLUNT, ‘cuz sometimes, that’s, the ONLY way to GET the point across, for those who just don’t get it, hello, hello, hello???

What’s the BEST way, to let someone know, that s/he is, making you uncomfortable???  Surely, you can, throw them stupid signals around, hoping that s/he picks up on it, but, chances are, the person is way too mother @#$%ING (maxed out!) retarded to pick that up!

But, I can’t, just say to the guy/woman: hey YO!  BACK OFF!  Can I?  That’s just not, socially, “Acceptable” is it?  Nope!

And yet, there’s, NO easy way, but to just, bluntly, state it ALOUD sometimes, so, stop worrying about how you will make the other person feel (I mean, WHO cares!  And, isn’t how YOU feel more important than how the other person feels???)

That’s, just one of the harder things of being human, I suppose, for SOME of you out there, but not for the QUEEN for, the QUEEN, still SPEAKS her M-I-N-D here, out loud too!!!

Just like Murphy had done, I’d, TELL someone, STRAIGHT up, if s/he is, making ME, uncomfortable, and you should too, otherwise, there will, be those who are out, to take advantage, and by then, you got, NOBODY else to blame, ‘cuz, you’d, ENABLED, the other person’s, improper behaviors…

A Merciful Murder…

I’d, killed out of mercy, ‘cuz she’d been, suffering too long, losing control over her body, and, it hurt me, watching her die off slowly, little, by little, knowing that, time’s still nowhere NEAR, expiring, Y-E-T!

A merciful murder, I’d, committed, and, I don’t feel bad about what I’d done, because deep down I know, that I’d, murdered out of love, and care for that certain someone.

And maybe, I’ll, get sentenced as a heartless, coldblooded, murderer, but I don’t care, I got a cleared conscience here.  If I’d not murdered the person, then, I will, forever BE gnawed by my own conscience, for NOT doing what’s right by that person I cared too much about.

A merciful murder, I’d, committed, and, I really couldn’t give a !#$%ING RAT’s ASS how everybody else out here in this god DAMN world sees me as: a cold-blooded murderer, an unfitting child, whatever, I KNOW I did it, out of, mercy, my conscience is, clear!!!

A merciful murder, it’s not right to kill someone, in the eyes of the law, but, think about it, if it were your own loved ones who became incapacitated, and their quality of life is dropping by each and every breath they take, wouldn’t you want them to suffer less?

The Sixth Grader Ran on the Track Field, Became a Vegetable, the School Mandated to Pay the Families

Knowing this student’s heart condition, the instructor still made him run, that’s why the school is mandated to pay!  Off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

Four years ago, a sixth grade boy with a heart condition, ran around the school track, fell down, he was rushed to the hospital, and became a vegetable, the families filed a suit toward the country, the Taichung District Court found that school needed to pay the boy’s families until he turned twenty, the amount of over $40,000N.T. per month for the medical fees, and over $20,000N.T. per month extra until he’s sixty, that the amount of over $4.36 million N.T. needed to be paid to the boy and his mother for emotional distress.

The parents told, that filing the suit against the country is to get justice for their son who’s “growing up but never waking up”, and they hoped that their son will be the last victim of the negligence of the school campuses, the school already filed for an appeal.

The verdict stated, that the boy had a congenital heart condition, isn’t fitted for hard exercises, and all his teachers knew this.

On the morning of October 20^th, 2016, the homeroom instructor told the whole class to get on the track field to practice running, and the instructor stayed in the class, not gone out to keep an eye on the students, allowed the boy to run two laps, the boy started swaying left and right, limping, and started panting, turning pale, along with other symptoms that he was not will.  The homeroom instructor saw, but didn’t call the ambulance immediately, the student was carried by another instructor to the nurse’s office, where the nurse performed CPR, until the paramedics arrived.

The judge believed, that the homeroom instructor wasn’t monitoring the boy when he was running, and not paid enough attention to how he was afterwards, and as the boy passed out, she’d not called the ambulance on time, that it all fitted into negligent in care, that the school should pay for the damages on behalf of the country.

And so, because you weren’t paying enough attention to this student with a HEART condition, and you made him run the laps, that’s why you’re, responsible, for his death, and the school got sued for it, because of the teacher’s not paying enough attention to the student’s health conditions.

The Supper He Made

So glad that it’s NOT my day to cook today!!!  Translated…

Looking at the table’s worth of food he’d prepared, I was, moved, became, dumbfounded!  The steamed crab, the pepper shrimps, the pan-seared tofu, the ginseng black-boned chicken…………all of which are, my favorites.

But three months ago before, from when my husband started, cooking the suppers on the weekends, it wasn’t, that wonderful scent of food that made my mouth watered that came out of the kitchen, and, what he’d made then, tasted, exactly like what I would take out to throw as trash, what’s worse was, he would NOT allow anybody, to criticize his, cooking skills.

To fight to my right to NOT cook on the weekends, I’d fought with him, for almost five years, him being, too macho, and no matter what, he just couldn’t accept the fact, that I do NOT want to cook on the weekends.  Back then he’d stated it too clearly, that we can go out to eat every now and then, but not every weekend.

Being raised by the feminist era, I naturally could NOT accept the time that women are allowed to have off from being a wife and/or a mother.  Taking care of the family during the week, I know I’m reasonable, for NOT wanting to make the meals on the weekends.  Should the mothers shoulder everything?

illustration from UDN.com

And, we’d disagreed, more and more, and the meals on the weekends became, a war zone, the stresses was, building, I just, wanted to, get away from the warzone, and every time weekend rolled around, I’d, wanted to, not go home for supper, and not wanted my own families to worry, in the end, I can only, wander alone on the streets.  Then, my husband got into a silent treatment war, and I felt, defeated, over my own marriage.

One day, at supper, my child asked me abruptly, what his grandma liked to eat from what I cooked?  I was stumped, then, said, “tell the truth, I’d never cooked anything for your grandmother ever!”

My child was surprised, “What?  Grandma had never had anything you cooked?”

My husband who was already finished, looked at me instantly, then, lowered his head back to his cell phone.

I told my son, “before I wed, I was my mother’s baby girl, she’d never made me cook, told me that cooking was hard and hot, and even as we go home to visit her, she still wouldn’t allow me to cook.”

“So, is that why you cook so much right now, because you love it?”, he continued asking.  “I don’t like to cook, actually, I HATE it!”

“Then why are you cooking every day?”, my son actually hoped that he could have burgers every day.

“because nobody will cook for me, because I need to watch out for your health!  That’s why I’d, grit my teeth, and no matter how I hated it, I still, cooked every single day!”

his turn to cook!

photo from online

At this time, my husband’s cell phone had, turned black and he’d, failed to notice, because he was too focused, “eavesdropping” on my son and I.  And, this conversation may have, touched some part of him, and, he’d, turned that into the table’s worth of meal three months later, on this, very day.

And so, all it took, was for you, to LET your husband KNOW, that you got tired of having to make every single meal, but, he’d not understood, because you NEVER told him verbally, because you probably thought, that he should, already KNOW it, but he didn’t, NOT until he’d eavesdropped into that conversation you had with your son.

The Ambassador of Peace on LINE

Trying to keep the peace, when members in your group are at each other’s throats, when they get on each other’s nerves, what can you do?  Try to mediate, in a round-and-about sort of a way, so you don’t end up, as the common enemies, but it’s, not that easy!  Translated…

My daughter-in-law one day, chimed excitedly, to the Family LINE group, how there’s, a night market close to her home, and the photo she’d sent to the group was a street, lit up with the lights during the nights, with a world of fried food stands, the arcades, I’d immediately replied back, “be careful as you don’t know the quality of oils the owners used to fry the foods, and the kids shouldn’t be allowed to play those arcades, as they may be easily addicted to these games…………”

As soon as I’d typed all of that, my daughter who’s away on another continent immediately added on, “it’s fine that you go and take that stroll every now and then.”  I was shocked, I’d, immediately recycled my message back.  Thinking about this calmly, if someone rained on my parade, it naturally would, make me feel, awful, and it wouldn’t matter if the words that someone was saying to me was right!  I’d, contemplated, and felt grateful for my daughter’s round-and-about-way of reminding me, so I slammed on the brakes before damages are done.

My friend was once the head of a certain club, he’d shared things on LINE quite a lot.  He’d told, that often, as a subject of discussion was opened for debate, some of the group had started, firing those cannons, some, quite stubborn, to one’s own beliefs, some swayed with how the winds were blowing, some agreed to others’ words, and the words were sharpened, ready for war.  The most often was the fight for the parties in the politics, some debated on the policies, some toward the incumbents, and, it’d, made it difficult, for my friend, who wanted to try and mediate between those who are then, engaged, and, he’d, spoken of his “New Year’s Resolution” aloud via LINE.

He’d said, “from here on out, no talks of politics, no personal attacks.  When we have a difference of opinions, DO delete those emotional words, to keep the conversation flowing smoothly, rationally”, and, for the six months that followed, there’s, more harmony within the group of LINE.

getting into an argument on LINE

illustration found online

With the inventions of the high-tech gadgets, it’d, made people leap into an alternative world, the parents are, disregarding the needs of their children more now, and the problems between the couples, the parents and children, worsened, as our heads, lowered to our high-tech gadgets these days.

But, think on it, it’s not the gadgets that are awful, it’s the mindsets of the users, and the timing.  If one can use the gadgets, and not let these high-tech devices control us, then, we won’t become, slaves.  Like how those who’d retired who don’t live with their children, sliding on their tablets or cell phones, sending the messages, their emotions found a viable outlet, and they’re, able to get some news and new information from everywhere around.  Sometimes, they’re even, having a webcam conference with the children and grandchildren who don’t live close by, the comfort from interaction with one’s own loved ones, although they’re, separated physically, but they’d become, more than, connected psychologically.  To the point when there’s an emergency, the high-tech devices are, very good for sounding off the alarms.

illustration from UDN.com

My friend’s older sister-in-law didn’t get along with her parents, although one live up north, the other, south, they’d still gotten on each other’s bad side over miniscule matters, and, as the two sides were getting heated on the group on LINE, she’d, privately texted her youngest nephew, told him to commend his mother on her cooing, how he’s, looked after so well, so the grandparents who lived faraway, in the southern parts of the island know, that they have a good daughter-in-law.  And, other than posting the messages on how to live well, my friend told her older sister-in-law that her parents had, commended her in their circles of friends, how they’re, so proud of her.  And naturally, the problems between this mother and daughter-in-law pair, slowly, resolved on their own.

Working hard, being the middleman of peace, at first, you may feel, tried, because you couldn’t make the results of the changes you want to see happen faster, but, after awhile, the results will, show.  The communications apps are of various sorts and kinds, with the members numerous, and, it certainly isn’t by chance, that we’d, found each other, in the vastness of the ocean-full of people.  If you can cherish this affinity, and, work hard, as a connector in every group you’re involved in, keeping the peace, for everybody’s sake, as you turn on the apps, it can only bring you joys in the days.

This is on, being, THE middleman, and, this woman has some valid points, but, I don’t, necessarily agree with her on everything.  I mean, it’s important, that you want to keep the peaceful flow of conversations on your LINE accounts, sure, but sometimes, you just, can’t ignore how someone’s words made you flare up, and, if you don’t find a valid way to get the angers you feel out, then, it will surely, damage you, and not just your relationship with that other person.  And yeah, a middleman who will help, diffuse this, lit up bomb, may be necessary in these cases, but not always.

When Death is the Only Gift I Can Give to You

Death is, the only gift I can, give to you, love!  I don’t want you to, suffer anymore…

When death is the only gift I can, give to you, I can’t!  I just, can’t bear the thought of, losing you, it’s, too painful!  When death is the only gift I can, give to you, because you’re, in so much pain, and you’d, become, reduced, to less than you were, from when you were still, healthy, happy, and free, and now, you got, trapped, inside this, sick little body of yours, growing weaker by the day!

When death is the only gift I can, give to you, will I be able to, just, let go, of my love for you, knowing that, you’d be, better off, DEAD?  And, how can I, say goodbye to you, my love, after we’d, shared, so many years of our lives together, of all that we’d, weathered through with each other, huh?

like this???photo from online

You’re, asking too much of me, and I just, can’t!  I can’t, let you go, you mean too much to me, I can’t, lose you, it hurt, just, thinking about it!

When death is the only gift I can, give to you, then, I will, force myself to give you just that, because, I will, NEVER allow you, to suffer, like someone I used to love, suffered, before he was, put down!

So yeah if death turns into, the only gift I can, give to you, then, I shall, give it, and nobody says SHIT about it!!!

What is Taken Away from Your Education?

Lessons we learned, from school, from our own, experiences in life, off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

Recently I’d made the speeches at the schools, as the speech ended, a parent led two children to before me.  “Professor, I was your student, do you still remember me?”  This was every instructor’s nightmare, I’d, worked really hard, to think back on all the students, and just, couldn’t, recall her name; but I’d still smiled and told her, “let me think!”, as she’d heard me say this, her smile did not fade, she’s not, disappointed one bit, but her second-grade daughter looked up at her innocently, “Mom, your teacher can’t remember you!”

I felt very awkward after hearing, before I could reply, she’d immediately told her child, “Do you know how many students the professor’s had?  How can she remember every one, but, so long as I remember her!”, then, she’d, started speaking of her middle school careers, that with the problems she’d, faced in life then, how I’d, given her the advices she’d needed, “because you’d, counseled me, teacher, so I will, never forget you, as I saw the flyer on the seminar, I was so excited to come, to thank you.” as she’d told me, I still, can’t quite, remember her, but, I’d felt, very touched by her words.

The following day, a student used the communication app to contact me, this particular student had been, hurt by a certain teacher, he’d come back to me to tell me about what happened, to seek out my counsel, it took me sometime, but I’d, accompanied him, helped him out; back then, I’d, encouraged him: you need to turn what happened to you, into your driving force, if there’s a chance, you must, help those who’d been hurt like you had.  Back then he’d told me, that he will, work hard, to become a teacher who can, help his students.  In his final year of high school, he wrote me that with his grades, there was, NO chance he will ever be a school teacher, so, he was, willing, to become, a serviceman, to fight to protect the country.

And now, many years afterwards, he’d, shared with me everything he’d weathered through in the armed services, and he’d, mentioned what happened to him again back in middle school, and stressed to me, that even though he wasn’t, highly ranked, he will use his past as a teacher, to NEVER make the mistakes his middle school instructor had made.

After I’d read, although I’d felt glad, but, I couldn’t help but feel: that the first woman told me, “so long as I remember you!”.  It symbolized, I don’t’ need your affirmations from your memories, but I will remember, that was, the demands that one made of, one’s own, characters, to never forget to be, thankful.  While the second student, couldn’t forget about the shame, but he’d not, selected, to take revenge, instead, he’d, turned his shame into something he could, learn from, to remind himself, to NEVER shame another like he’d been, shamed.  Think on his, how many people we will meet, how many things we can, encounter, in our, lifetimes!

Who remembered us, it isn’t, that important, what’s important is who we remembered?  Well, it’s, not that important either, the important being WHY we remember who or what we remember?  Those that happened, those whom we remembered, what were their, influenced on us?  From these two students, I saw the choices of attitude, how they’d, chosen to make themselves feel happy, how by choosing to forgive, it’d, given him peace, to use the past as a mirror to reflect, to have a life without regrets, what, will you, choose?

And so, this, is something worth pondering on, what, do you remember when you graduated?  I’m sure, that it’s not the course load, the books, the materials, or even what you’d made on your exams, it’s the experience of learning, of accumulating the knowledge, of the lessons that life teaches us that we will, carry with us from here on out.

Staying TRUE, to, a WHORING M-A-N

I still gotta say, this is, still NOT directed toward anyone who can R-E-A-D, as for those of you who’d, stumbled onto this site of mine, and can’t READ, well, you got NO business being here, so, get the HELL out!!!

What AM I???  A @#$%ING (maxed out!) R-E-T-A-R-D???

And, why on God’s “green earth” (oh wait, god does NOT have sole-proprietorship over ANY of us, here on E-A-R-T-H!) would I do something so stupid like that, huh?  Besides, you were the ones who couldn’t keep your god damn, @#$%ING (maxed out!) DICKS in check, so, what RIGHT have you, to tell me that I’m not keeping my you-know-where intact?

The primary reason W-H-Y a lot of women are currently STUCK in this, predicament (you can call it that if you want to!) is because they are, too dumb, and too, BLONDE (the dumb-blonde BIMBOS???), to unable to see, how staying STUCK, should be, their, last resort, and they still, don’t get themselves out, why is that, is absolutely, beyond ME!

Staying true, to, a WHORING M-A-N, that may be our, only option, IF we live in the, 18^th, 19^th, 20^th centuries, but we are, in the 21^st CENTURY here (hello, hello, hello, is this thing~~the P.A, even on???), because we are, without a viable skill, to make a living on our own, therefore, in the olden days, we relied on our losers has-beens, to keep us, and seeing how they are all, the bread winners of the house, they can, WHORE around all the want to but that’s, back then, and this, is N-O-W!

Staying true, to, a WHORING M-A-N, is something I will NEVER do, in fact, like all you losers out there that EXTRA “appendage” “down there”, I too, prefer, VIRGIN males too, okay, and yes, I will have my two “virgin males” NEUTERED, and I am going to get the two of them both, HOUSEBROKEN, and, they will be, “camping” their butts, on my bed, next to me, giving that they don’t crawl onto my pillow, to find that soft spot (like Murphy’d done???)…and we’ll all get along, just fine, and dandy here…

My Daughter’s Response, on Parent-Child Interactions

Allowing your own young to experience, so s/he knows, that MOMMY is, RIGHT!!!  Translated…

My daughter woke up late this morn, I’d placed her breakfast into a box, for her to bring to school.  At this time, she’d told me she’d not wanted to eat it at school.  I’d hollered, “Why?”, she’d, minced her lips, refused to tell me another word, I’d thought for a bit, and asked, “do you want to take the time before classes to finish your assignments?”, she’d nodded, “it’s too time consuming to have to eat breakfast at school, it takes away the time from me doing my homework.”

I had to admit, I’d felt, a bit, emotional as she’d told me this.  I thought it’s, defeating the whole purpose of things, thinking of finishing her assignments on time, not caring about her health.  Besides, “homework’, is supposed to be work, taken home to complete, and yet, she’d been, rushing through the assignments in the mornings as she arrived at school, to the point of, giving up breakfast, this is, so totally, not, understandable.

As I was about to go into lecture at her, suddenly, I thought of myself.  In the elementary years, I’d gotten too busy with the various kinds of contests and competitions; in middle school, the pressures of academic made me buried in books; entered into high school, I’d, insisted I could, handle both my academia and my extracurricular activities; as I started n college, I’d, burned off my youth like crazy—but, during those years, my mother never said anything.  Surely, she’d, nagged, it’s just, she couldn’t, do a thing, as her daughter is, very much an, independent thinker, and, finally, allowed me to, be.

Many years later, in the mornings, I stood before my daughter, and, suddenly understood, my own mother’s, nagging back then.  Toward the young, mothers always showed their care and concerns, there were the, worries, always wanting to, offer the best answers for her life.  But, because I’d been a kid myself, I knew, that a lot of the lessons in life, you must learn, personally, for you, to come to realize, what is, the correct answer, and so, I’d come to understand, that the best thing for me to do right now, is, just zip it up.

Finally, as I saw her off into the school, I’d stated, “mom believe you are, able to decide correctly for yourself, breakfast, or not breakfast!”

I can even, give, the correct answer, and then, justify my claims of why my answer is correct, and yet, no matter how perfect I’d, argued my case, it won’t, do a thing for my daughter, because it’s not the answer she’d found by herself.  The only thing I can do, is to give her room, to discover, to hit, for her to, persuade herself, at the same time, having the faith, that she is, able to, persuade herself.

Turns out, what’s harder in caring for our young, is letting them go, to allow them, to make their own, choices in life.

In the evenings as she came back home, she took out the packed breakfast box.  I took a look, nothing’s inside.  She stuck out her tongue and told me, “I was so hungry, and so, I couldn’t help, but eat it.”

Maybe, these lessons of our young, rather than, drying up our own tongue, why not, allow their, rumbling stomachs, to teach them what’s correct.

And so, this, is how a child learns, that her mommy’s, right (and of course, us mommies, are ALWAYS and FOREVER right!), but for our young to understand that we ARE right, sometimes, we need to, stop worrying about them, to just, let go, and let them touch the FIRE, so they get burned, and that hurt register inside their brains, OUCH!  It’s hot, and I shouldn’t touch, like this mother did, for her own young, to LEARN, that HER mother, is R-I-G-H-T!!!