ah so! i forgot the great trip write up oops!

Ok, my flight was delayed by a good 4 hours right… i was there at like… 6a.m, for the originally planned 9.30 a.m flight. which meant… the real flight take off time was at 1p.m. now, i have already told my family not to follow me, but they did. i knew we were going to be delayed, but i didn’t realise it was till 1p.m at that stage.

so anyways, i still owed qantas some money for the connecting flight. because of the huge delay, not only did i get a free international phone card, i got a meals card for breakfast at the airport, as well as the free connecting flight.

When i got on the flight, i was treated so well, and so shoved full of food i almost puked, that i was thinking “damn! i wish British airways was this good to me”. no, it wasn’t about the food, but the service. it was warm, friendly… and australian. soooo australian. The steward asked if we wanted to sneak some headphones back - THEY BUY THEM BACK IN WOLLONGONG FOR $20!! - and, i swear i saw this happened, threw a banana down the walkway haha.

then, when we reached sydney, it turned out that the ground staff at singapore airport disconnected me from canberra, without telling the sydney ground staff. So, they quickly made arrangements, such that by the time i reach the hotel (like 20 minutes later), which was holiday inn sydney airport (and provided by qantas), i had everything set up for me. There was $30 room service and $20 phone calls available to me, international or local. woooo *licks*

And while this delay did cost me the comfort of my own bed in Canberra, i was feeling like some queen in luxury. I had a double bed room, with cable tv… red earth toiletries and everything godly. i was in heaven.

not to mention i was back in Australia! what could beat that?!?!

then i got break fast (STILL PAID FOR BY QANTAS!!) in sydney airport and i was off home.

only problem now is, i bought a book on blogging and left it on the plane. i really can’t remember the title, and it didn’t help that the chick on the phone had no idea what blogging was

i love qantas.

Prior to me going off to Malaysia for Grandma ages ago, i went with dad for his “appointed” checkup. That would mark the first trip, outside of our real estate area, that we actually went together, father and daughter.

Surprised?

Let me tell you something odd. Since i went back and since he got discharged, dad made it a HUGE effort not to bring me anywhere. “you would get bored” he would say, just to turn me off. or “i will take the whole day…” In essence, he wanted to prove he is still capable, reliable and more healthy than anyone have decided to tell me.

At the end of the day, i often find myself with nothing to do, but to rest at home and day dream about wonderful possibilities, or plan for the future without dad. perhaps a little melancholic, but hey, the reality seems near.

Even when he was home, he doesn’t try to talk to me much, and our conversations ended up revolving around how mum fucked up his head for the last couple of months after his first trip to the hospital. In essence, mum is making him feel guilty for falling sick, and for not being able to find work due to his condition.

Anyways, the visit to the doctor.

To summarise it, it was a shocker.

Dad have been lying to me.

He told me, in the first call i made to him while he was in hospital previously, that one of his artery/something was 85% clogged up. the second call revealed a second clog at 95%. Obviously these are dangerous numbers, however, that meant the third major one was free, as well as a few others, so surgery looked like it was going to be successful.

The truth was, all 3 of his major arteries leading to the heart or something, were at 90% blockage, with a few minor ones at 100%. that means chances for the surgery to even go ahead might be slim.

better yet, he had an argument with the doctor. Apparently, since he felt he’s been drinking less water, and exercising, and not eating much, he just assumes that the blockage will melt away by itself. So when the doctor refused to check his blockages again, simply because the medications were meant to suppress his symptoms, not clear the blockages away, he had a fit.

So, while he did sign up for a surgery, he’s not very happy. he thinks the doctors are wrong, that they are too full of themselves, and that he’s right.

Mum on the other hand, decided to be a pest. She stood between the doc and my dad, while doc was trying to hear dad’s breaths and stuff. When doc told her to move along, she snapped that he was rude. Furthermore, when i was trying to understand the situation from the doc, she insisted we speak in mandarin. These were stuff she should have already known from her last trip here, and things even if spoken in mandarin, she wouldn’t have understood. so i told her to back off, since she was stupid.

but i think, what totally ripped the doctor apart (and he was really patient with both my parents) was when he suggested surgery.

Questions from mum:

“would the surgery be done in a day?”

“how long would it take?”

“can he have the surgery now?”

“so, after surgery he would be ok right? so can he go home and work after that?”

The doc looked at dad, looked at me, and then stared at mum.

“YOU ARE KIDDING ME RIGHT?”

at any rate, since dad doesn’t want me to worry about him anymore, and to just accept his death if it comes, i don’t want to aggravate him by going home at the slightest phone call. i really want to be there, any time he needs me. but he’s pushing me away, so i might as well don’t, and give him his space.

*waves* after several delays, i am home. i am safe, albeit tired and have a severely fucked up insomnia now. but let me talk about the trip to malaysia first… it by itself is made of a lot of win…
So, about a week after i arrived, i pondered over the possibility of me going to malaysia. I never liked to visit my relatives, since i could earn money, empty handed. however, at the rate i was paying for everything, i was dwindling down to my last pennies. dad was still “abandoning” me, so i realised i might have to go malaysia on my own, and that doesn’t sit well with me since this visit was meant to be about dad.

I made the side note to my mum, on one of those days when we did have a normal, casual conversation. i just stated i was too broke to visit grandma, and wasn’t so willing to turn up empty handed.

For your info, grandma is an elderly lady, all of 78, diabetic, and was predicted to live for just 2 more months… 8 years ago. I am not particularly close to grandma though, for she is a quiet creature, and i am not much better, when i feel i have nothing in common with a person. However, i think we got pulled closer when grandfather passed away, and i was forbidden to follow his funeral procession because i was severely sick, and was thus confined to mourning in an air conditioned car, while his truck pulled further and further away from my tears.

at any rate, grandma was someone i always felt a distant love to. you know, the type that no matter how distant you are from, you will still feel a pain if they are sick or need your help. The type that has always been a part of you.

What marred all these thoughts later on, was my mum’s constant request.

“why don’t you go visit your grandma? and… while you are there, just borrow some money off your aunts for me?”

My aunts have constantly told me that, however much they dislike it, my mum’s gotten to a point where she only visits them and talk to them when she needs money. And because they are such gentle, sensitive souls, they always cave in, and feel for her. hell, they even wonder every now and then if she has enough to eat, despite her not even bothering to call them.

then, after almost a week of her asking me to ask aunts for money, she turned to me and said my aunts in Malaysia called, and (insert some complicated, non-related matter here) wants me to go over, and they will give me money.

i was instantly suspicious, but decided to call my aunts on my own. Then she changed her mind, and wanted to go by herself, which got me MORE suspicious.

and i was right. “huh? when did i ask you to come visit and get money from me?” my third aunt asked.

my sixth aunt called up and had a go at mum, albeit in a gentler way, kindly reminding her that they too have children, and lives, to look after and support. aside from that, unlike my wonderfully “independent” mother, they also support my grandmother, her medical expenses and private home-help. Infact, of the 7 sisters, my mum was the only one who not only does not contribute to my grandma’s medical and living expenses, she was also the ONLY one who still goes home and asks her mum for money.

so, after being deeply embarassed by me, severely burnt by her sisters, she decided she was too ashamed to visit malaysia, and i left, with some spare cash to pay for the trip for both dad and i, and even my sister. that was about all i could afford.

so, grandma.

She grows ever so frail. Previously, because she’s afraid of needles, my aunts decided not to inject her with insulin. After all, she was given only 2 months to live. if she’s fated to live longer, she would, if not, no amount of medicine would save her.

however, in recent months, she complained of abdominal pains. When she was finally surveyed, the doctor revealed that the lack of insulin and the drop in immune system has caused her kidneys some problems. There’s nothing else to do, but to start injecting her with insulin, and this might preserve her a little more.

She’s gone weaker, and like my dad, she’s starting to limp around a little due to her muscles tightening up.

This woman used to run a convenience shop in a tiny village, 12 hours a day, while moving stocks by herself too. we are talking about old school, glass bottled coke, sarsi and 7 - up by the dozens, in cartons.

and now she can barely walk.

She was robbed a few mornings ago, when she went on her daily walk. While she is unharmed, the only necklace my grandfather bought her was gone, robbed from her by a petty bike-riding bastard. She is only 4 feet, weighs probably like 30kg. She poses as much danger as an ant, and he fucking robbed her.

now the maid goes with her.

*huggles granny* while i will be very sad to lose her, my last of the “grand” side, i think death will release her from all this pain. The physical and the emotional.

looking at my hyperactive 9 years old cousin though, one can not help but smile at the miracle that is life. With every birth, there is a death, is it not so?

trip story tomorrow!