On uselessness and being

I saw a couple in my Health and Cognitive Assessment Clinic one day. It was the husband who needed to come, upon the urging of his daughter. However, it was clear that the wife needed help, too.

Her physical health was greatly compromised 15 years ago as a result of complications from spinal surgery. She had been through great pain. She told us that, if it hadn’t been for her husband and her children, she would have been dead a long time ago. As we talked more, she became sad. She said she was coping well, because she didn’t talk about something that had happened to her. Whenever she would talk about this experience with someone, she would cry.

She didn’t go out, except for grocery shopping, and pretty much restricted her social activity to her small family circle. She told me how great her children were, supporting her both emotionally and financially. Her husband, in spite of minor memory problems, took good care of her. She pretty much couldn’t do anything for herself now, except take responsibility for her own hygiene. Her husband did the cooking and all the rest of the household chores. She was sad, feeling totally useless.

She didn’t know that her worth was in her being.

I wish all seniors knew that their worth is in their being. Just being there is good enough. Just being there and allowing their loved ones to serve them is a good and useful existence. Imagine the children’s loss and feeling of emptiness and loneliness at not having a mother, or a husband at having lost his wife—it is unbearable. Think of the joy and satisfaction of the children when they are able to take care of their beloved parents.

I sometimes think of one day losing my mother, who is now in her 80s. My father passed away a long time ago; when my mother dies, there will be no vertical lineage that I can claim. I will be all by myself, even though I have siblings. I will be someone without a mother. The mere thought makes me feel disconnected in this world.

Imagine the peace of mind and sense of completeness of a child at having a parent for whom he or she loves to care. Worthiness of existence is not counted by what we can or cannot do, but simply by who we are.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Love of a mother

While I was recuperating from radiotherapy, my mother came to stay with me for a few months. Because she has memory problems, she could not remember that I was suffering from cancer. My brother and sister told her, but it didn’t register. Every now and then, my brother and sister and I would talk about my illness, such as taking my traditional Chinese medicine or going for follow-ups, etc. On these occasions, my mother would be reminded of my illness and then remember that she must thank the gods for me. Most Chinese people in Hong Kong have no particular religion, except worshipping their ancestors. My mother is this way.

One day, she asked us to buy a cooked chicken, fruits and Chinese rice wine, in order for her to thank the gods for having mercy on me. I bought a whole chicken, as is the traditional Chinese custom when you want to worship or show your gratitude to the gods.

It was a bright and sunny afternoon. We got the table ready, with the dim sum, fruits, teas and wines all properly arranged, just as Chinese people do when they make offerings to the gods. We even got some incense sticks burning.

My mother kowtowed to the gods for me. While on her knees, she softly mumbled her prayers, asking our ancestors to continue to bestow mercy on me. It had been a long while since I had seen my mother kneeling down praying to the gods. Nowadays, we are her “representatives” to go sweep the graves during the Ching Ming Festival. She is somewhat wobbly on her feet.

We were to go to my older brother’s home for dinner that evening. After appeasing the gods, the next thing to do was to cut the chicken. We wanted to share it with him. Western people use a knife or kitchen scissors to cut, but we use a chopper. As a child, I saw my mother chop up a whole chicken on a chopping board many times. I am aware that my mother is growing older and frailer, but I didn’t realize how weakened she has become.

I have vivid memories of my mother chopping up an entire chicken and then putting the pieces back together again in the shape of a whole chicken. She now struggled with the chopper and did not have the strength to cut the chicken into halves. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, I took out my scissors, and then Mom used it to cut the chicken into pieces. I offered to help, but she said that I wouldn’t know how to do it. She forgot that I am a grown woman. My heart ached to see that my mother could no longer do things that she was good at. I was not cognizant of the full picture of what my mother has lost to aging. The gulf between the images from back when I was small and the image I saw at that moment made me mourn my mother’s loss.

All these years that my mother has slowly been growing old, we have gradually been doing more and more things for her. My mother no longer takes care of us. We take care of her. She is used to not doing anything in particular and keeps calling herself “lazy.” But she actively took charge when she wanted to please the gods for her daughter.

This will probably be the last thing that my mother will do for me.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

On laws that you must make provision for your parents

I find it interesting as well as intriguing that Singapore and some provinces in China have laws stating that one must make provision for one’s parents. In those places, filial piety is not just part of a citizen’s moral obligation, but a requirement of the law.

What if the parents are awful parents? What if the children make provisions for their parents, but verbally abuse and mentally torture them? What if the children do not love their parents, and only provide for them out of a sense of duty? Would the parents like that? Would proud parents accept money from their children in that situation? What if the parents are well off but the children are not? I gave birth to my children and raised them until they could stand on their own two feet. Does that qualify me to receive lifelong provision from them?

I am very interested to know how the law addresses these questions in view of the complexities of human relationships.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.