HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

It's 2007! Can you believe it?!
I still remember when we crossed the Millenium and the whole "the world's coming to an end" thing. 1999/2000 -- I was in Seattle with my childhood friend PP and her boyfriend Erik, and the Mayor of Seattle cancelled fireworks at the Space Needle that year. Never imagined where I'd be in 7 years.
Come to think of it, though I've been here for more than 2 years, this is the first time I spent New Year's Eve in Taiwan.
2004/2005 -- I was on the plane coming back from Switzerland. I remember being disappointed that they didn't give out free champagne on the plane.
2005/2006 -- We set off fire crackers on the beach in southern Thailand.
2006/2007 -- We watched the fireworks at Taipei 101 on TV. The media, for some reason, could not stop repeating the fact that it lasted 188 seconds, and it cost SONY $32,000,000NT to put it on display.
*************************************************************************************
The first day of 2007 on this side of the Big Pond is absolutely G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S!! Sunny and warm (around 23C.... I don't know what that is in Fahrenheit). Nuage just got brushed and he had some of that anti-hairball goo (a small price to pay for being a long-haired kitty). Now he's sitting by his scratch post giving me a "time-out". Bill's playing a video game called Star Wars -- Knights of the Old Republic II. Personally I think the graphics suck and the people talk too much in this game. I'm thinking of ways to bug him (i.e., making funny noises, asking tons of questions about the game, asking him to help me do stuff, etc.), but, I have to admit, it hasn't been very successful so far.
Bill: "Kate, you have no chance. Do you know how much experience I have of ignoring people?"
As an only child, I guess I would have no chance against someone with 5 siblings.
*************************************************************************************
So I received an e-mail message from PP about how she and Erik (now husband) celebrated Christmas:

Speaking of music we listen to growing up, on the drive
to erik's grandmom's on Christmas Eve we got stuck with one radio
station playing lots of Christmas tunes - some good, some bad - but
the one that almost threw me out of the car was (drum roll ~~~) Last
Christmas! by WHAM! WHAM!!!!! literally……

I don't know why you were so worked up about "Last Christmas". I think it might as well be included as one of the Christmas Carols! In fact, when Bill and I went out with a group of friends right before Christmas, we did our own Christmas Special at Cashbox (Cashbox is a KTV, or karaoke). The first song we sang was Last Christmas (followed by Jingle Bell Rock). I don't know, girl! It just ain't Christmas without Last Christmas. Granted, all of us grew up with 80s music..... maybe the younger generations don't even know the song.
What's the other dude's name anyway? At Cashbox, in the beginning of the MTV, it simply said, "George Michael & Andrew". Sad.....
*************************************************************************************
Bill just killed a group of people in the game.... he killed them all very quickly.
Now he's chanting in a robotic/French accent: "I caan dowit because I 'ave da poweh. Caan you dowit? I don sink so because you don 'ave da poweh. Haaaahaaaahaaaaa"
And he thinks I'm the crazy one.

Wednesday, 12.27.06
18:00

I was sitting on my bed working on the photo journal of our trip in Thailand. It was a year ago this time that we were there. A nurse came in to change the bag of saline and saw the pictures.

N: "Hey, that's your hubby, right?"
K: "My boyfriend."
N: "That's the person who stays with you in the hospital.
K: "Yes. He's my boyfriend."
N: "Where is he from?"
K: "The U.S."
N: "Did you meet him in the U.S.?"
K: "No, we met in Taipei."
N: "Your hubby is very good-looking."
K: "Thanks, and he's my boyfriend, not my husband."
N: "Who cares? In Taiwan, girls often call their boyfriends their hubbies. Sooner or later, he's
gonna be your hubby anyway."
K: "Speaking of pressure."

Wednesday, 12.27.06

In the hospital

14:30

Finally a doctor came in to insert a needle into my catheter. She wasn’t who I had expected, and I had never seen her before. She was, nonetheless, wearing green scrubs with “OR” printed on the pocket on her chest. She looked young, and her voice and mannerism made her seem even younger. As you can imagine, I wasn’t sure if she’d be capable to do the job right. However, the printed “OR” was somewhat comforting and assuring.

She was placing all the instruments on my bed when the doctor who took the needle out at the end of my first chemo treatment came in the door. The doctor in green scrubs suddenly tensed up and said, “senbai.”

Culture Tip:

In most Asian countries, social hierarchy determines and directs behavior patterns between people. People who are lower in the hierarchy must show respect to the more superior by bowing and addressing the superior “senbai”.

I started panicking. “Oh no! She’s an intern.” Cold sweat seeped out of my entire body. I wiggled my toes to get the dampness away. I began to watch her like a hawk. She threw 5 cotton balls into a stainless bowl: 2 on the left, 3 on the right. Then she took a plastic bottle with a nozzle and squirted some clear liquid onto the 2 cotton balls on the left. After that, she took the lid off of a glass jar with dark brown liquid and poured it onto the rest of the cotton balls. I wondered if the two liquids mixed up in the bowl anyway. Everything went well and she looked competent…. so far.

She began to disinfect right below my left collar bone. She felt clumsy. The cotton balls bounced on my skin, and iodine was dripping across my shoulder. “Okay, that’s it! You guys are totally using me as a dummy for the rookie to practice on. What if she’s doing it wrong? Would I have to go through the same thing again if she did it wrong? Would the chemical run all over my body and end up killing me?” Before I could say anything, the needle was right in front of my eyes. I quickly grabbed the senbai’s hand and told her to give me a heads up when the rookie was about to stab me with it. Surprise brushed across her face at first, but then she smiled, took my hand, and told me to take a deep breath. “Here we go!” I thought as I closed my eyes.

I felt the sting as the needle went it; it hurt more than I remembered. I began to miss the male doctor who did it for me last time. He was confident, humorous, and quick. Where was he when I needed him? In the midst of the whirlpool of thoughts, I heard a small voice coming from my left, “I don’t know if it’s in…..” “WHAT?!” I gripped the senbai’s hand tight as if to tell her to DO SOMETHING! The senbai reciprocated the squeeze and led the rookie through a series of steps to check if it indeed went in.

S = senbai, R = rookie, Kate’s thoughts are presented in italic.

S: “Did you feel the pop?”
R: “I think so.”
K: “I think so is not good enough. Are you absolutely positively sure?”

The rookie continued to push the needle in. Ow~~~
S: “Don’t push it in too much. She’s skinny, so her porta is probably not that deep."
K: “Somebody do something! Knock her out or knock me out.”
S: “Okay. Why don’t you try to push some saline in? If it feels smooth, that means it’s in.”
R: (try pushing saline in) “I think it’s smooth, but…..”
K: “THAT’S IT!! Get me someone who doesn’t begin every sentence with ‘I think’. I want someone who knows. Uncertainty is not allowed right now.”
S: “Right. Now let’s try to draw some blood. Slowly retract the plunger and see if
anything comes out.”

I felt a tug.

R: “Mmm….. No…. Nothing is coming out.”
K: “Get her away from me. No, better yet, let me crush her head with my jaw bones."
S: “Maybe it’s stuck. Try pushing the needle in a bit more.”
Ow~~~~~
K: “How could you be so calm?! Why aren’t you pushing her out of the way and doing it
yourself? How can you be standing there with a smile holding my hand while this
inexperienced rookie toys with a catheter that, allow me to remind you, leads to my
HEART!”

(A moment of silence)

I finally couldn’t be quiet anymore. I asked the senbai: “So, can she draw anything out?”

S: “Yes. It’s working.”

R: “Yes. It’s red.”

K: “Well~~ dadidah! Of course it’s red. It’s blood! Didn’t they teach you that in med school?”

Monday, 12.25.06

I don’t wanna go.

Okay, I gotta remember to bring the anti-vomit pills and iron supplement with me to the hospital.

Wait! Should I bring that red tub we bought when I had my surgery so I can have something to puke into, just in case?

I really don’t wanna do it.

Ooooo…. I can work on the photo journal while I’m in the hospital…… No! No! No! I shouldn’t bring too much stuff this time.

Can I not go tomorrow? The rest of the week is ruined.

Must remember to remind Bill to call Andrew about his apartment. Oh yeah! And make an appointment with Ms. Chang for viewing the 3-bedroom apartment later this week.

What else? What else?

I don’t wanna go tomorrow……..

Credit card bill! I gotta pay my credit card bill and cell phone bill.

I guess I can do that while I’m in the hospital.

I don’t wanna spend 5 days in the hospital…..

They’re gonna push a needle into my catheter.

I don’t want to go through that again.

Will I puke? How bad will it be if I puke?

Blood test – I’m gonna have a bruise on my arm….. again!

The smell of hospital….. I hope I don’t get a roommate who just had surgery.

I don’t wanna go to the hospital to do chemo tomorrow!

Sunday, 12.24.06

Okay! We're officially between apartments.
We've got a few hopefuls lined up for viewing late next week, but we've learned not to get our hopes up until we actually walk into the door.

(Uh-oh~ Alert! Alert! I'm in a bitchy kind of mood.)

The reason apartments for rent are just downright appalling is that a large portion of the people in Taiwan don't take pride in what they are or what they do. Businesses here produce cheap, low-quality products because they don't take pride in what they produce. Consumers buy those products because they either don't have taste or standards (Oh yeah! And because they're cheap). You can buy a pair of DK"Y"N jeans for US$20, but it shrinks after one wash. Housewives flood to the guy yelling into his microphone selling electric juicers for US$6 only to find out later that it stops turning and smoke comes out of the motor when they're juicing the second half of an orange. Teachers here can get away with reading straight from the textbook because whether they put effort into lesson-planning doesn't make a difference. Students don't think about what they learn because mere memorization is good enough for the purpose of studying. For both the teacher and the student, doing the absolute bare minimum is sufficient enough for the ultimate goal of learning: passing a standardized test.

What does this have to do with renting apartments, you ask. Landlords here will tell you that the flakes of paint that come off of the wall above the electric socket when you walk by are from previous water damage. It's nothing bigger than an eye sore. They'll offer to slap on a fresh coat of paint to cover it up and pray that you're stupid enough to believe that there's absolutely no problem at all. "Balcony" sometimes means a passage way wide enough for one person to slide by. More often than not, however, "balcony" means a dingy and dank space in the back where mold flourishes. However, landlords will happily inform you that you're welcome to hang your laundry there. "2-level townhouse apartments" offer upper-level bedrooms with ceilings so low that you have to get down on your hands and feet before you hit the top of the stairs, but "look how high the ceiling in the living room is." Finally, "furnished" could mean that you're about to move into a junk yard. However, landlords will look at you in the way as if s/he expects you to kiss their feet this instant for their kindness and generosity. Landlords here don't take pride in their own property, and they'll do the bare minimum sufficient enough to make the problem disappear. The problem is, just because you can't see the problem doesn't mean the problem doesn't exist. Making the problem disappear doesn't mean that you've solved the probem. DKYN will never be DKNY. A juicer wih cheap parts won't do the job. Sitting at your desk with a textbook open in front of you doesn't mean that you're studying. Reading what is written on a page doesn't mean you're learning it. Memorizing isolated vocabulary items doesn't mean that you're gonna be using those words in your natural speech any time soon.

(Okay, so I've strayed off track. Now what?)

I've been a renter long enough to know that the game with words plays an important role in the real estate industry on both sides of the Pacific. In North America, for instance, "cozy" often means "small", and "quiet" sometimes means "far away from civilization." It just seems that the words Taiwanese landlords/real estate agents choose to use tend to be more..... um....... exaggerated, ...... far-stretched, ......... overstated, .......inflated, ..... far from the truth..... or simply,.... as Bill put it, full-of-shit!

This is what Iain said about being bald, and I couldn't agree with him more.

" Seriously, It looks good; suits you. And getting a sweater on does suck, you head is one big velcro pad now. Don't forget to to do the occasional fluff check. I walked around all day with a dust bunny the size of a golf ball on the top-back of my head once, of course nobody told me. Then again, I taught all day with a very large, dark coffee spot on the tip of my nose once (you know, from the air hole in the top of a starbucks cup lid), of course nobody told me. Bastards."

After all, if anyone knows best about growing and shaving, it has to be Iain. Proudly present: (with echo) The Evolution of Iain's Hair

p.s. Iain, take this opportunity to walk down memory lane for (part of) your time in Taiwan.

2004.07.11 at an Indian Restaurant, Tokyo, Japan
Hair level: nada






2005. 10. 10 A hike up Wu Fong Chi Waterfalls, Taipei, Taiwan
Iain's first trip outside Taipei city.
Hair level: curly







2005. 11. 19 Jiou-Fen, Taipei, Taiwan
Jiou-Fen, also known as "City in the Sky", was rainy and cold that day.
Hair level: no curls







2006. 01. 15 "Bliss", Taipei, Taiwan
Iain's birthday party.
Hair level: fuzzy







2006. 01. 28 Kate's mom's place
Chinese New Year Dinner
Hair level: see 2005. 10. 10






2006. 05. 01 Labor Day BBQ at Bill & Kate's
Hair level: stubby

We went out to see an apartment near Taipei 101 in the pouring rain. It looked really good on the Internet, but it was a dump in reality. We cabbed home, had dinner, and that was when Bill asked, “Shall we?”

I have to admit I was a bit nervous…. you know…. “this is my head on the chopping block” kind of nervous. Bill, on the other hand, had that mischievous shine in his eyes. You could tell he was saying, “new toy… me like new toy… ”in his head. Both of us were curious to see how I’d look without hair, and the anticipation only made the pre-op more intense.

“Here we go!” and the clipper was on. Bill adopted a bottom-up approach, starting with the back of my neck. It was extremely ticklish and I was told to “stop squirming around.” While Bill couldn’t help giggling with satisfaction, my goose bumps came and went in waves.

Then the Mohawk was done! Bill wanted me to give him a punk rock face, but I couldn’t stop goofing around ‘cause I thought I looked like the Troll Dolls.

We went back to the bathroom again. Just when I thought the buzzing sound was quite hypnotizing, Bill stopped and said, “Babe, I think we’ve just invented a new hair style – a Twohawk! Hahahahhahahaha” I opened my eyes, looked up in the mirror, and burst out laughing.

I didn’t see it coming, but I cried when Bill told me it was done. I thought of Iain.

I’m still a rookie in being bald. There are so many different sensations on the scalp: the movement of air, the warmth and flow of water in the shower, and the temperature and texture of a hand, a head rest, or a pillow. Also, with those short tiny needles of hair on, my head doesn’t just slide through when I put a sweater on. Putting on a toque doesn’t seem as effortless as it used to be.

It will take some getting used to, for sure.

Tuesday, 12.19.06

We did it!
My hair is gone!
Why no pics, you ask.
'Cause we're exhausted.
Check in later.
We go sleep now.

Sunday, 12.17.06

To Shave or Not to Shave. That Is the Question.

We had a busy 12-hour day: went to see an apartment, went to B & Q (kind of like Home Depot) to get some storage crates, and went back to the old apartment to pack things up.

22:30

Bill is in the bedroom. Kate’s in the living room watching an interview with the baseball player that won Taiwan a gold metal in Asia Olympics.

Kate: “So?”
Bill: “What?”
Kate: “Are we gonna shave my head?”
Bill: “I wanna put some things away first."
Kate: "Okay."

22:32

Bill walked out of the bedroom.

Bill: “Would you mind terribly if we waited til tomorrow?”

I guess this is the end of my blog for today.
Stay tuned.

22: 33

Wait a second! Bill has Chinese class in the morning and he works in the afternoon.

Kate: “Tomorrow when?”
Bill: “Tomorrow night.”
Bill: “Unless you just wanna…. You know….bzz..bzz..bzz… then we can do it now.”
Kate: “NO! I want to take pictures and stuff.”
Bill: “I KNOW! That’s why I said let’s do it tomorrow night.”

22:40

Bill took out the Christmas lights
He walked to the windows, looked around, put the lights away.
He came to sit down beside me with his laptop.

Kate: “I thought you were gonna put the lights up.”
Bill: “Nah~~ I’m too tired. I’ll get some stuff tomorrow to hang them up.”

23:00

Bill came out of the bathroom.

Bill: “Okay. I just remembered…. I told Ben I’d climb with him tomorrow night.”
Kate: “……………..”
Bill: “Hee hee hee. So, do you wanna do it tonight?”
Kate: “…………….”
Bill: “Or Tuesday night?”
Kate: “…………….”

23:10

Bill: "Yeah... we can do it tomorrow night after I come back if we're not too tired."

So I guess the hair's gotta go tomorrow.

The Autobiography of a Kitty Cat

My name is Nuage, and I’m 1 year, 7 months, and 9 days old. I think my name means “clouds”, but I can’t be 100% certain ‘cause I don’t speak much Human. I know I have to pretend to stop what I’m doing and look surprised when mom makes the NO sound. When I need to find mommy, I make the sound “ma-ma” 'cause she seems to respond well to it. Mommy calls me Nuenue or Nuester. However, sometimes when she’s mad at me, she reduces my name down to Nue! My mommy is my favorite person in the whole wide world. I love her so much that I follow her everywhere, and I mean EVERYwhere. I always sit on her lap when she’s in the bathroom ‘cause I believe she could use some companionship in there. Mom and I live with a male named Bill. I didn’t like Bill when we first met, so I peed all over his stuff. However, I’ve grown to be quite fond of him actually. Though he always says something about my hair and looks annoyed, he lets me sit on top of his printer to watch him work anyway.

Mom sometimes takes me to this other place where this American Shorthair named Mocha lives. I’ve heard something about Mocha’s mom being my mom’s mom or my mom’s mom being Mocha’s mom. Anyway, I don’t know or care what kind of “relation” that puts Mocha and me in. All I know is that Mocha is obsessed with the number of hair balls us long-haired cats cough up a day, and he wouldn’t leave me alone unless I give him an answer. You might have gathered that I’m not a big fan of Mocha. I mean, what kind of a cat enjoys being named after a beverage anyhow? I’m sure all the Toms and Sams in the neighborhood would agree with me on this, too. What? You’re saying my name is not particularly masculine or feline either? Well, your ignorance is pardoned. After all, my name is French, and that alone beats some chocolaty coffee drink with fluffy whipped cream on top.

Okay, enough about the shorthair. Let’s focus on ME. As you can tell, I’m a very loving cat. Just like I follow mom into the bathroom, I do my business in the litter box while Bill does his on the toilet as well. It’s kind of our male bonding time. I’m laid-back, literally. I love lying on my back with my belly exposed toward the ceiling on the floor in the middle of the room. Oh, on a hot day, I also like stretching out all fours like a carpet so that my tummy is against the cool tiled floor. I guess I’m playful. I don’t like playing with people so much as watching people play with me. They make funny noises and silly faces when they play with me, and I find that very entertaining. Most importantly, I’m hygienic and neat. I love the smell of clean human feet fresh out of the shower. I always want to put them in my mouth. I don’t mind it when mommy gives me a bath. The blow-drying part is the best because I get to have mom’s undivided attention all to myself and I like the way my hair moves in the warm air. A friend of mom’s once put my name and what sounds like “Foo Foo” in the same sentence when she heard about my liking the shower. I think she might have gotten herself in trouble ‘cause mommy told her NO!

All this talking is making me thirsty. I think I’m gonna dip my paws in the water thingy. What do you mean that’s weird? And yes, FYI, that's how I drink water. Oh, give me a break, will ya?! Have you ever tried burying your face in water? My way is definitely much more sophisticated than getting the fur around your mouth all wet.

Thursday, 12.14.06

We went to see an apartment near National Taiwan University. It was the coziest apartment I’ve seen since I came to Taiwan. A couple has been living there for 2 years, and they’ve really turned the apartment into a “home”. Unfortunately, they’re only looking for people to sublet it for 2 months while they travel to Russia and Mongolia. Bill and I didn’t think it would make any sense for us to spend money on subletting when we could continue looking for our own place without the pressure of time.

Oh, and I bought a hair clipping thingy…you know.... the kind with different length attachments. I’ve decided to shave my head this Sunday ‘cause (1) since hair loss is inevitable, we might as well have some fun with it: We’re gonna take pictures of me with a Mohawk (hahaahaaa), and (2) I don’t particularly want to go through the trauma of pulling out big patches of hair myself. Can you imagine (not that you have to worry about losing your hair like this) looking at a big bald spot on your hair first thing in the morning? That’d be the true definition of a rude awakening, eh?!

Stay tuned for the silly pictures. I can’t wait!

Tuesday, 12. 12.06

I sometimes catch myself studying the image in the mirror. I notice the black lines under my eyes and flakes of dead skin on my upper lip. I examine the shape and color of the scars on my left shoulder and tummy. I wonder if the bruises (from the body strap I wore to support my abdomen right after the initial surgery) would ever go away. After walking a lot, sometimes my toes turn pale, as if someone had put baby powder on them. My hair (all of them all over) seems to have stayed on so far, but there’s no knowing when and how it’s going to fall out. I can’t scratch an itch spot on my right shoulder blade because the catheter prevents my left arm from wrapping all the way across my chest. When I’m physically tired after a long day of running around, the wound on my tummy aches just enough to make it difficult to walk. Feelings of anger and grief linger close by, ready to be unleashed.

I know it’s good for me to get out of the house, but being in public places is no longer the same. I’m more sensitive and irritable than usual. I now have absolutely no immunity to tear-jerking and graphic movie scenes. I get nervous when people cough or sneeze around me. I can’t stand the smell of cigarette smoke while or after someone has a puff. I’m in a constant fear that fellow pedestrians might bump into me causing harm to my catheter or wound. I avoid seeing, and being seen by, people I'm not very close with. Some people don’t know how to face me; some may even be scared of the disease. I see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices.

Life also becomes a bit of a joke. While my cousins are stressed out about not having the perfect outfits to go to their friends’ weddings, I spend half an hour figuring out how I can put on my overalls because the buckle on the left strap rubs against my catheter and it hurts. While I force myself to eat more to avoid anemia, TV commercials brainwash women to starve themselves. A stroll on Zhong-Xiao East Road (the fashion center of Taipei), I feel isolated and lonely. All the blinking colorful Christmas lights and tempting Christmas sales have nothing to do with me. It's not like I would jump into a tiny Tee and some butt-hugging jeans with a pair of boots with heels that kill, sipping egg nog and socializing. My next chemo is on Boxing Day. As much as I would like to be strong and upbeat, I'm sorry to say that celebrating Christmas is not on my list of priorities this year. In the midst of all things Christmas, all I really want to do is to take it up with Him in private: "WHY ME?"

I don’t expect anyone to understand how I feel and why I feel the way I do because I myself don’t even have a clue. I just want to be normal again. I know I’m not an insecure person. I’ve lost the old me, and I haven’t been able to make peace with this alien sense of self.

Sunday, 12. 10. 06

We went to a Cloud Gate performance at the National Theater this afternoon (thank you, Ben, for the tickets).

This 2.5-hour performance featured excerpts from some of the best-known Cloud Gate dances in the past 25 years. The founder and choreographer, Lin Hwai-min, firmly believes that the mission of Cloud Gate is to present and promote Taiwanese/Chinese art and culture through its music and dance. “Crossing the Black Water”, for example, depicts the epic voyage of Taiwanese ancestors who braved the violent sea to settle on this island 300 years ago. “Tale of the White Serpent” reinterprets the popular Chinese folklore about the forbidden love between a man and a snake spirit, and portrays the complexity of (human) emotions through blended movements of contemporary dance and classic Beijing Opera. “Homage to the God of the Clouds” is one song from Chinese poet Qu Yuan’s “Nine Songs”. Traditionally, only Gods can step on humans, so the dancer who plays the God travels and dances on the shoulders and backs of his carriers throughout the entire duration of the dance (about 10 minutes). It was absolutely breathtaking!

My favorite was the piece with one female dancer in a brown dress in the middle of the stage. A single spotlight shines on her from above, creating a cone of soft haze around her. The music is a piano solo: simple, peaceful, and sad. As soon as the music starts, she starts spinning on one spot, trapped in the soft light around her, unable to escape. At times she extends her arms as if to reach for a way out; other times she withers as if all hopes were gone.

One spotlight.

One dancer.

One piano.

One location.

One being.

The elements combined create this heart-wrenching sense of loneliness. She is as light as an autumn leaf spinning in the whirlpool of the Northern wind. She seems so helpless and fragile yet her strength and determination prevails. Despite the circumstance that turns her spinning, she keeps on fighting: fighting against the turmoil of life; fighting against the endless circle of fear, panic, struggle, and despair. As for the dancer, for a total of eight long minutes she spins while maintaining absolute discipline and clarity.

At last she came to a stop. My tears stopped with her. She stood still in the cone of soft haze, frozen in grace and beauty. She wraps her arms around her body and slowly starts to move again. She sways a bit then suddenly, her arms extend into wings and she speeds up into another spin. But this time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t cry because it was her choice to spin.

The piece is called Requiem.

Thursday, 12.07.06

We were sitting at Starbucks, waiting to meet a real estate agent, when Bill asked me in Chinese to converse with him in Chinese.

Bill: “我們可以說中文. You know, 像語言…. How do you say ‘exchange’?”

Kate: “交換. 交means interact. 換means replace.”

Bill: “Yeah. 像語言交換. 妳教我中文. 我可以幫妳的英文.”

Kate: “Okay. What do you wanna talk about?”

Bill: (eyes filled with excitement and anticipation) “I don’t know. You’re the teacher. Ask me questions.”

Kate’s secret thought:

Let me think…. ‘What’s your name?’ That’s dumb. ‘Where are you from?’ Nah~ ‘How long have you been in Taiwan?’ I bet he has answered this question gazillion times. ’What have you been up to lately?’ He might understand the question, but he might have problem answering it.

Kate: “I don’t know what to ask you.”

Bill: “因為我們…..知道…..太多….. um….. How do you say ‘because we know too much about each other’?”

Kate: “因為我們太熟了.”

Bill: “熟? What’s 熟?”

Kate: “to be familiar with someone.”

Bill: “Oh, right! I know that word. I know a lot more words than I actually use. We

should ….. um… 我們應該每天一小時說中文.”

Kate: (exclaim) “早就跟你說過了.”

Bill: (eyes wide open) “huh?!”

Kate: “We’ve talked about it before, but we never did it.”

Bill: “Yeah, I know.”

Kate: (a light bulb moment) “That’s what I can do! I can tutor at home.”

Bill: “Chinese or English?”

Kate: “Both!”

Bill: “If you want, I can hook you up with some people.”

We went on talking about tutoring and debated whether it’s better to tutor kids or adults IN ENGLISH.

In conclusion, it's my fault that Bill could never practice speaking Chinese with me.

Wed, 12.06.06

Today was a wonderful day!
For the first time in almost 3 weeks, I didn't feel any pain or tiredness.
I did some house hunting, made some phone calls, and threw a load of laundry in the washer.
I went out for Japanese ramen with Dawn at noon. For some reason, my body craves soup stock that's made of pig bones. I guess I need protein to make more blood cells.
After lunch, we went grocery shopping at a supermarket. I bought cereal, hot cereal, yogurt, pig bones (to make more soup stock), beef, chicken legs, spinach, cabbage, meat balls, fish balls, tofu, noodles, miso paste, rice cakes, 3 bunches of grapes, a papaya, salty crackers, Ritz peanut butter, Oreal peanut butter & chocolate, and two tubs of ice cream (mango & chocolate). All together, it cost a bit shy of CDN $60.

Most websites about ovarian cancer agreed that a patient could have whatever she wants.
I've got the license to be a spoiled eater now (mmmuhahahahaha).

I made dinner tonight.
I can't remember the last time I made dinner.
I've always loved cooking.
After being in bed and in need for 3 weeks,
it feels so good to be able to take care of Bill for a change.

Sun, 12.03.06
I'm going home today. Feel pucky and tired.

Mon, 12.04.06
I'm trying to get my sense of humor back. More later.

Tues, 12.05.06
I tried going out for a walk today. Walking up the hill nearly killed me.

Wed, 12.06.06
Four days after I finished my chemo treatment, I begin to feel normal.

12.01.06

5:20am
The incision on my tummy has healed nicely, and today is the day to remove the staples. A doctor came bright and early, like he promised, to remove the staples and to put a
needle in the portal.
The removal of staples was easy breezy.
He pressed down on the plastic disk to find the correct location for insertion. I could feel his hands narrowing down the possibilities and finally zeroed in on one spot. Once he found it, he told me to take a deep breath and pushed the needle in with force. It felt..... I don't know.... it stung a bit, but it didn't hurt as I thought it would.

Bill was holding my hand while the doctor made the insertion. As soon as the doctor started to tape me up, he squeezed my hand and said he would be right back.
Turned out, he thought he was about to faint, not from watching the insertion but from the sudden urge to run to the bathroom. It hit him so hard and sudden that he thought he's collapse before getting the the bathroom in time.
The curry in the food court of Fareastern Mall did it to him.

14:20pm
The nurse came in and said that we should start putting saline in. I thought I'd feel it going in but I didn't.
Dawn came to visit.
My doctor came to visit and he recommended purchasing the shots to prevent vomitting.
I also asked some other questions.

Kate: "Can I drink? I mean, at X'mas and New Year. You know.... like wine or beer?"
Dr: "Yeah. A little is okay. I don't want to turn your life black and white, you know?" (a
Chinese expression meaning a colorless life)
Kate: "What about my diet? Should I eat anything special?"
Dr: "Try to eat natural and healthy things such as eggs and carrots. Stay away from
processed food, like Burger King. It is not really good for you."
Bill: "But it's so good. I can't believe there's a Burger King in the hospital."
Dawn: "It's for the family."
Dr: "It's for kids."
Bill: "I'm a kid. What are you trying to say?"
Dr: (while looking at Dawn) "Well, if we define people who are not married as kids, that
makes sense."

What the doctor didn't know was that Dawn's not married and I had Burger King for dinner that night.

22:10pm
So far, they've given me 3 bags of "Ringers" solution, an anti-vomit and an anti-allergy shot, and 2 shots of Chemo. I'm now hooked up to a bottle of Chemo and a machine that regulates the drop rate.

I'm feeling a bit woozy. My left arm is a bit warm and numb. Periodically I feel my stomach turning, but not quite strong enough to make me vomit. In fact, I kind of feel a bit hungry.

I'm warm.

I try to keep my mind off of it by writing the experience down. I'd like to think it's helping.

They took the bandage off my wound and replaced it with tapes that will help it heal pretty.
One thing off the list of concerns.

Had a little scare just now. As I wrote, I noticed a lot of small bubbles in the tube going into my body. Bill and I called the nurse over to fix it. The nurse said it wouldn't be dangerous as long as the quantity of bubbles stays under 10 c.c. She didn't seem to be concerned.

We decided to keep an eye on the nurse.

23:20pm
I finished my first Chemo.
My Next Mission: 500 c.c. of urine in the next 4 hours.

11.30.06 The Night Before my First Chemo Therapy

I'm sleeping on my right with the palm of my right hand pressing against my temple.
I can hear my heart beats ringing in my ear. Thomp-Thomp. Thomp-Thomp. Thomp-Thomp.
It sounds as if there is a small army marching inside my head.
My body's tired but I'm wide awake.
I want to sleep, but I'm afraid of what comes tomorrow.

They're going to put a needle into the device on my shoulder.
Just like how they put a needle in the vein on the back of my hand.
The difference, which is a gigantic one, is that this needle will be the gateway to my heart.
Apparently chemo is just like an IV drip. They inject chemicals into my heart, which then pumps it right out to the entire body.

They're going to inject carboplatin into my heart, the most vulnerable part of my body.
How can they expect me to be calm?

Thursday, 11.30.06

Time to go back to the hospital for the first chemo
It's funny how I had dreaded going back up til yesterday, but now I'm absolutely okay with it
Guess I know there's no way I could get out if it

A part of me is actually excited 'cause the bad cells are gonna get zapped for the first time soon
Though I know I'm going to start feeling the side effects of chemo
it's important to keep in mind that no wars are without casualties
6 chemo treatments for a longer happier life
that's a damn good deal if you ask me

Thursday, 11.23.06

Exactly one week after I first checked into the hospital, I'm going back to the Operating Room for a second surgery.
I was lucky that Dawn came to hang out with me all evening yesterday to keep my mind off of this cardiovascular surgery. People from work came in 3,4 different cabs after 9pm to check up on me. It was wonderful to have the support. I felt like I have my personal cheerleading squad.
I'm the surgeon's first operation today. That's good 'cause I don't have to spend the entire day anticipating.

**************************************************************************************

They came to get me shortly after 8am. One would think the second trip to the OR would be easier, but it wasn't. I was more nervous and anxious. I don't remember how long I waited in the waiting area. It felt unusually long. In the meantime, my imagination went wild. I wondered if anything happened to the surgeon. Maybe he went out partying and got smashed the night before and he was driving through every red light on his way to the hospital. Maybe they found something new between the last time I saw my doctor and now, and I don't have to have this surgery after all. I felt this chill spreading through my body from the inside out, existing from my finger and toe tips. I took a deep breath, calming my mind by thinking about the way Nuages sleeps. Pretty soon, a lady came to ask me some questions. Then they wheeled me into the OR.

In the OR, music was playing and lots of people were talking. They were talking about breakfast actually. Kind of sick if you ask me. The anasthesiologist came to ask if the IV hurt my hand, and I replied that it had been bothering me since it was put in last night. I endured a few painful tugs on the back of my hand from her experiments, and she determined that we might have to "fix" the needle inside. She took the tapes off and pulled the needle out just a bit, and it made a huge difference. When she massaged the back of my hand, it felt so good that I actually smiled.
She then injected a bit of anesthesia in and I began to get dizzy and weak. The last thing I remembered was my surgeon by my side. I wanted to ask him if he was alright this morning, but someone asked if he wanted to say anything to me. My surgeon looked me in the eye and said, "Don't worry. I'm here." and I went to sleep.

************************************************************************************

I heard someone calling my name.
I felt the wind.
I opened my eyes and saw a short nurse walking beside me.
"Time to wake up." she said.

Someone's calling my name.
My bed is rolling over a bump.
I opened my eyes and saw the same short nurse walking beside me.
She smiled.
"Good. You're waking up." she said.

"Chang Hsing-hua's family please come to the door."
Someone's making the announcement.
Mom's gonna see me in a few minutes.
I gotta open my eyes.
But I just wanna sleep.
Gotta wake up, Kate.
But I just wanna sleep.
Show mom that you're okay.
Wake up, and stay awake, Kate.
"I'm hungry." I said the moment I saw my mother.

Wednesday, 11.22.06

I got up early, had my dressing changed, strapped my tummy up, and headed to the bathroom.
For the first time since the surgery, my body is strong enough to take care of herself.
I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and towel-washed my body.
I want them to treat me as a person, not a patient.

Whimpy moments still persist.
My stomach turns and my eyes well up when fear invades.
I don't let it advance and conquer.
I took a good look at myself in the mirror.
I repeat in my mind,
I'm strong.
I'm smart.
I'm mature.
I'm intelligent.
I understand what might be waiting ahead,
and I think I'm ready for the worst.
I just need a bit of time to prep myself.

Back in my "room" I looked around to decide where I should start tidying up.
Folding the covers and clothes is such a care-taking gesture.
I've gotta be strong for those who are being strong for me.
Just like I needed them to hold me up on my feet the day after the surgery,
now they need me to help them stand still.
I'm a person, not a patient.
Whatever the doctor is telling us today,
I'm not gonna take it lying down.

Three Days After the Surgery

The moment you sign the agreement for surgery, you sign away your privacy and dignity. Essentially, you grant the doctors and nurses the right to watch you, touch you, poke you, and feel you wherever and whenever they want. Your intelligence gets foggy. Civilized expressions that reflect education and sophistication are reduced down to monosyllabic jibberish. "Would you be kind enough to tell me what you are injecting into my IV drip?" gets shortened to an "En?" "Would you mind adjusting my bed so I don't feel like my wound is burning?" becomes a prolonged nasalized moan. Even when your roommate annoys you, all you can do is to think about the million different ways you could tell them off if you were well. It's not a bad thing, really, for some of us turn that annoyance into motivation to get better soon.

Self-respect does not exist in hospital wards. When you are busy dealing with pain and aches, smelling your own armpits to make sure you don't stink is the last thing on your mind. Comfort is everything, and hospital gowns are comfortable and convenient. Though it might be an eye sore for most visitors, walking around in a hospital gown with your butt hanging out is in fact quite an enjoyment. Patients in the gynecology ward behave completely differently from women in the outside world. They frown on tight-fitting clothing items and smile at loose PJs; they would not hesitate to slip into a pairs of slippers but could not stand the sight and sound of high heels.

In the hospital, survival is of the utmost importance. Everything else.... Who cares about everything else. Seriously.

My eyes are closed but I'm awake
My mind is trapped somewhere between the dreams and the reality
I know what every sound is
I feel his every turn
I count the number of times my cat jumps in bed to check on us
I'm anxious
I'm relaxed
I'm nervous
I'm sleepy

I feel the right side of my tummy throbbing
I tell myself to stop it
I see that I'm getting fatter
when I think I should be getting thinner
"counterintuitive" was the word I taught in class yesterday
I try to get on the Internet
I feel the urge to write
It doesn't work
Late at night in the dark
The Internet fails to work
My mind's buzzing and my body's tired
I can feel my pulse in my left temple
That's a headache I'll have for the rest of the day
Great

I think about surgery
Mom had one
Dawn had one
Carol had one
Who else
"Robotic Surgeons" was the article I taught tonight
incision, insertion, internal organs, infection
Endoscope
wound
recovery
I taught the kids how to use context clues to figure out the meanings of unfamiliar words
I wonder if they learnt something

Right! Surgery
I'm scared shitless and I'm prepared
I'm curious and I'm knowledgeable
I'm green and I'm experienced
I wonder if being put under will be the closest experience to dying
I wonder what will happen if I never wake up

The cyst/tumor/whatever-it-is has been living a very healthy life in my ovary. It has grown 0.4 centimeters since September. At this rate, it will be 3 centimeters next month.

The cyst/tumor specilist I went to see yesterday told me that he's concerned with the fact that the "thing" I have has got a bumpy surface. If it's indeed a cyst, it should have a smooth surface (like a water bubble). He asked me to do a blood test, and we'll do another ultrasound next Tuesday to take another look at that "thing."

**********************************************************************

A colleague of mine just had surgery to take her half of her thyroid out. She told me that she suddenly burst out crying like a baby, with wrinkly face and everything, before they put her under. I remember my mom doing similar things when she was about to go into the operating room. I wonder if I'll have the same reaction.

**********************************************************************

Although it's still quite early, I've already started doing research on different surgical options. Of course, there's no good or bad when it comes to choosing a surgery. It's absolutely no fun at all. Period.

I made an appointment with a doctor who specializes in cysts and tumors at TriService General Hospital two weeks ago. Without any previous knowledge about the doctors at TriService, I read the bios of all the doctors there before making an appointment. Long story short, after I clicked on the button "make appointment now", my head was filled with different pieces of information about different doctors and all I wanted to do was to jot down my appointment number (#24) and never look at the computer again.

Two weeks flew by.

Even after celebrating Halloween for two days straight last weekend, I still remembered that I had an appointment on Tuesday afternoon. I arranged a substitute teacher and gave the lesson plan and materials to him Monday afternoon (being a responsible teacher that I am). I stayed up late Monday night watching Six Feet Under (yes, I'm hooked) thinking I wouldn't have to get to work until 5pm the next day. Tuesday morning, I stumbled out of bed at 10:30. I figured I might as well check out the schedule of the shuttle bus that travels between the two locations of the hospital. While online, I noticed an icon called "Doctor's progress", which is a real-time display of the appointment number of the patient that a doctor is seeing. Thrilled, I checked out my doctor's progress and learned that he was with patient #65. I took a second look and wondered how it'd be possible. Turned out, my appointment in the MONRING!! By then, it was already 11 o'clock, one hour before the doctor's office closed. I called the hospital and they said the only thing I could do was to make another appointment.

So there. I gotta wait for another week to see this doctor, and this time, I don't think I'll mess it up again.

June '06
We first discovered three cysts in me on the ultrasound. Two in the uterus; one in my ovary. Though the doctor said there was nothing to worry about, he took a blood sample just in case.

September '06
The result from the blood sample set off an alarm in the doc's head. It wasn't a blinding red light with a blowhorn kind of alarm, but it was enough to make the Taiwanese doc went, "mmm......... it's pretty high........mmm......." while flipping back and forth between the ultrasound image and the blood test result.
What he was referring to was CA-125.

A Wikipedia Moment:
* CA-125, Cancer Antigen 125, aka tumor marker or biomarker.
Normal values of CA-125 range from 0-35 U/ml. Elevated values in post-menopausal women are usually an indication that further screening is necessary. In pre-menopausal women, the test is less reliable as values are often elevated due to a number of non-cancerous causes. *

My CA-125 was 198 U/ml from the blood test in June.

The doctor ordered another ultrasound and blood test. Before leaving, I asked if there was anything I could do to bring the value down. He stared at the black and white picture of my chocolate cyst for a moment, then he said, "mmm...... just live your life....... mmm....... we'll discuss it more after your second ultrasound and blood test results come out."

October '06
Dr: "It's currently 2.4 cm big and rests in the ovary on the right. Your CA-125 is 178.9 U/ml from the blood test in September."
K: "That's.... good, right?...... that it has gone down?"
Dr: "(chuckle) It's considered pretty high when a value approaches 100 U/ml. Yours is approaching 200 U/ml. It's not something to be happy about."
K: ".................. so........ what now?"
Dr: "There's not much we can do right now. Let's schedule an ultrasound in December to take another look at it."