When I was in America, attending my dad’s funeral, my mother gave me some personal documents. One of those documents was my birth certificate, which contained the name of my recently-deceased father and mother, even though they adopted me when I was but 12 days old. My mother gave me another document that should have been sealed before my adoption. On it was the name of the lady who gave birth to me.
I grew up always knowing that I was adopted, even though my parents treated me no differently than their other three children. I’m glad that they didn’t keep it a secret from me. I think that parents who do have done a disservice to their children. We should always be as honest as possible with our children. About the specifics of my adoption, I had no idea until recently. A few years ago, my mother told me that the story she was told was that my birth mother was married to a guy, divorced him, and then got pregnant by another guy. After that, she returned to her husband. He didn’t want to raise a child that wasn’t naturally his, so I was put up for adoption.
That night, after my mother had given me the document containing my birth-mother’s name, I spent a few hours googling for information. I discovered that she is 67 years old and still lives near Van Nuys, where I was born. Records indicated that she never actually got a divorce from her husband, who had been married before her, and had three boys with him. The youngest boy is three years older than me and might be an actor. I’m not sure of that last part, though. His name matches that of an actor who appeared in some movies and lives in that area, but that could just be a coincidence. I wrote down the lady’s phone number and address and went to bed.
Over the next several weeks, I mulled over the notion of contacting my birth-mother. Because of my estranged situation with my first son, Cameron, I thought that the lady might have been wondering all these years about my whereabouts and if I was okay. I felt a phone call wouldn’t be sufficient enough, so I decided upon writing a letter to her. In the letter, which I wrote by hand in cursive, I told her that my purpose of writing the letter was twofold. First, I wanted to thank her for giving me life. Without her, I wouldn’t be here today. And, despite all my life’s hardships, many of which are ongoing, I’m glad I’m alive. As long as I’m alive, I have the chance to progress. I might not be doing it at the pace that I should be, but at least I have the chance. I don’t know what her options were at the time, but I’m grateful that she chose to give me life. Also, I wanted to write to her in order to let her know that I have had a good life. I grew up with a good family, a somewhat dysfunctional family, but a good one nonetheless. My parents brought me up to respect and be kind to others and taught me the value of hard work. I know that my one brother and two sisters love me and would do the world for me, as I would for them. I am blessed to have been brought up in a family as good as The Iversons. I think my birth-mother needed to know this, and I hope my letter helped her feel good about what she’d done.
I ended the letter by writing down my email address, inviting her or any of the members of her family to contact me if they felt the desire. I’m not looking for anything from them, but wouldn’t mind hearing from her or what are essentially my birth-half-brothers. I have no expectations, other than to hope that my birth-mother is pleased with my letter of gratitude to her. I think that just about this time she should be receiving it.
Whether she contacts me or not, I’m glad I got the chance to write to her. It’s somewhat like the message I wrote to my son Cameron’s girlfriend (Ashley?) through MySpace. I wrote to her that I wanted her to know that I care about Cam and hope that they have nothing but happiness and success in their relationship. I also promised her that I’d never write again, if she didn’t request it. She hasn’t, and I’ve never written her again.
It has been a week since my parents returned to the United States, after visiting my family here in Taiwan. Via Skype video chat, we spoke to them this morning. My mother did most of the talking. Although this is typical, it was more pronounced today because my father is not at all well. In fact, he is dying.
To type that my father is dying in this weblog entry is a difficult thing for me, for I still haven’t come to terms with it. I still maintain hope that a miracle will occur and he’ll go on living another 20 years. The odds are against it, though, for he has been diagnosed by doctors with lung cancer.
I knew things were not good with him as soon as he and my mother emerged from customs, when they arrived in Taiwan back on the twentieth of January. They were both being pushed in wheelchairs. My mother said getting wheelchairs had really helped them on the way here, because they were pushed to the front of all the lines and had help with their baggage. However, I could see that a wheelchair was more out of a necessity for my father, when I saw that he had a cane and had trouble standing up when we got to the car.
Because my father has had diabetes for several years, all his ailments were blamed on the effects of that disease. My wife, Shu Mei, who also suffers from diabetes, agreed with my mother and me that my father needed to be more active. The three of us felt that if he got up and moved more, he would build muscle-tone and prevent future degeneration of his body.
Mom said that Dad had been sleeping a lot in the past several months, both day and night. She felt that this inactivity was causing him all sorts of problems. He had been experiencing more losses than muscle-tone. During periods, he had lost appetite, bowel control, energy, and even his temper. (I think that the latter loss was a direct result of the ones which preceded it.) Our goal was to get him up and moving. Dad wasn’t having any part of it, though.
For the most part, Dad stayed in bed during my parents’ visit here. Luckily, he did join us on a couple of trips to restaurants and to an amusement park. Because I was on Chinese New Years vacation during their visit, I got to spend a lot of time with my parents. I had downloaded a lot of old Gunsmoke, Rawhide, and M.A.S.H. episodes, because I knew that Dad liked those series. Even though he’s seen them before, he has remarked that watching them again is like the first time.
Outside of a hospital, doctors do not prescribe painkillers in Taiwan. Consequently, Dad was relegated to taking only Ibuprofen for his body aches. He took a lot, too! One day, my mother and I went and bought 8 packages of Ibuprofen. They come in packages of 10 pills each, 400 mgs per pill. Two days later, 4 packages were empty. All but a few of the pills had been taken by my father. That was definitely too many pills and I knew then that he must have been in tremendous pain, even though he didn’t lead on like he was.
Dad didn’t complain a lot about pain, only some casual remarks about how his back hurt and he couldn’t sleep. He also spent several minutes per day clearing his throat. Furthermore, Dad suspected that he had kidney problems, as he was using the bathroom a lot. Because of that, we went out and bought a whole bunch of 100 percent pure cranberry juice. Although he thought it had a terrible taste, he began drinking it regularly. Beyond those mentioned maladies, Dad didn’t complain. In fact, he was his usual jovial self, especially when people came to visit. For example, we had the area’s six missionaries join us for dinner one evening and Dad conversed with them as if he didn’t have a problem. I knew that Dad was making a huge effort to do this, though, as he was almost deplete of energy when they left.
Dad spent most of the time in bed, but did manage to get up a few times to play with his grandchildren. Billy (6) and Tyley (4) enjoyed him immensely, and probably made him even more tired in the process. But, that is one of the reasons he came here. He has always been an excellent grandfather to them. My parents have visited Taiwan several times. Each time they come here, the boys love it. At their age, Billy and Tyley need a lot of attention, and my parents give it to them. I’m pretty certain that is why they make the long journey here. The boys have often wished Mom and Dad lived closer to us. We have repeatedly invited them to move here. Not surprisingly, they have passed on our offer. I understand their feelings, that life is much-better for them in America.
Before they left Taiwan, my vacation ended and I had to return to work. Three days before they were due out of here, I was at work and received a call on my cell. It was from a church friend of ours, Sister Li. She said that Shu Mei had called her and said Dad had an emergency and was being taken by her to the hospital. I’m still not sure why Sister Li called me, instead of Shu Mei, but suspect it was because Shu Mei couldn’t connect with me. Their installing a booster antenna for cell phones in basement where I work, but it is currently sometimes difficult to get reception.
I went upstairs and called Shu Mei’s cell. She was in transit to the hospital, and said that Dad couldn’t go to the bathroom. She handed the phone to my mother. I told her that I would meet them at the hospital, but Mom insisted that I stay at work until they found out what Dad’s problem was. She said she’d call me back when there was more information. About half an hour later, I got a call on my cell again. This time, it was my mother on the other end. She said that they suspected Dad had kidney stones and had inserted a catheter so that he could go to the bathroom. She said that he was feeling a lot better. They were waiting to take x-rays to confirm the existence of kidney stones.
A short time later, Mom called me back and said that the x-ray had unexpectedly shown what appeared to be tumors in Dad’s lungs. They had taken another x-ray, which confirmed this, and said he should see his doctor upon returning to the States. I found this news very shocking, as my father has never smoked in his life, nor has he ever been around smokers. He hasn’t even lived in a polluted area before! There was some mention that one of the x-rays also showed something that looked like tumors in his spine area. Before returning home from the hospital, Dad received a blessing from President Li, who had been in the area doing business.
That night while Dad slept, I sat and spoke with Shu Mei and Mom. It was then that we realized Dad’s problems probably weren’t caused by the diabetes, but from cancer – a cancer that had probably started elsewhere and found its way into his lungs. I theorized that it might have begun months before, as prostate cancer. That would explain Dad’s symptoms, which included a loss of bowel control to coughing and wheezing. After we spoke, I spent some time on my computer, looking up information about cancer. What I learned about lung cancer wasn’t very promising. If indeed my father had lung cancer, his time in this mortal life was limited to a few months. That night, Shu Mei and I knelt at our bed and said a prayer for Dad. We both love him dearly and want him to be well.
In the next few days, before my parents left for the States, I talked with Dad. He said that he really didn’t think he had lung cancer, but couldn’t understand why he had all those problems. I told him to wait and see what his doctor at home said, that the doctors in Taiwan might be wrong. I had heard stories about misdiagnoses and had experienced some failings by doctors in my own history.
I had to work the morning my parents departed for America. Before work, I bid them farewell with an “I love you” and a hug. I feared that this would be the last time my father would be hugging me back and didn’t want to let go. But, I still had hope that this was all just some crazy happening and that he suffered from nothing more than a minor bladder infection and some overindulgence in sleep after-all.
Sadly, my mother sent me an email message a few days after they returned home, stating that Dad’s doctor, Dr. White, confirmed that he does in fact have cancer. Dr. White gave Dad the option of seeing an oncologist about it, but Dad passed on that. Mom said that all Dad wanted to do was go without pain. Dr. White said that he could do that for him.
Mom arranged to have Hospice start coming to the house. She explained that they send a nurse every day to see Dad, bathe him, and tend to him. Dad was given Oxycontin to manage his pain. That is all he wanted.
According to the message, my mother felt that going to an oncologist would give us all answers to some questions (e.g., what type of cancer is it, where did it begin, how far advanced is it, etc.) Knowing approximately how much more time he has left would give us some piece of mind. However, I do not agree with her on this.
I think that Dad is right to refuse treatment. From all accounts, his cancer has spread from elsewhere, and on a grand scale. Why put him through more pain to determine what we pretty-much know already? His sister, Faye, had cancer, so it might be something hereditary, but do future generations really need this information? The issue here is that there is currently no cure for lung cancer. Given that fact, there is nothing to do for Dad except ensure that he goes without pain. That is precisely what he wants, and what I would want too, given his circumstances. (I wouldn’t be as composed as he has been, though. If I were in his shoes, I’d be cryin’ like a baby. He’s really inspirational, my Dad!)
Mom guesses that Dad doesn’t have more than a few months left. In the near future, there will undoubtedly be a cure for lung cancer. I wish we were living in that era, but we’re not. At this time, we must deal with the fact that this disease is out of our control.
From what I’ve read online, lung cancer is a terrible thing; not just on the patient, but on the entire family and network of friends. For some, the time between diagnosis and death is very quick, within weeks sometimes. For others, it can take years of chemo, radiation, surgeries, remissions, and relapses, before death occurs. Even when people are in remission, cancer is always in the background, just looming around the corner. It changes people, and it changes everyone involved.
Usually, death in itself is a tragedy, but lung cancer is definitely one of the worst to see in terms of the toll it takes along the way. And once the person with it passes away, and they are at peace, the family is still left with the pain of their loss. That is the same for deaths of all kinds of course, but watching someone die slowly can take a huge emotional toll. But, this isn’t about me. This is about my father, a very good man, a man with a heart as big as the ocean which separates us. If I lived a thousand lifetimes, I could never come close to what he has become in his 75 years of mortality. I know that there is a place waiting for him in heaven, for he’s truly one of the greatest individuals that ever lived. I wish that you, dear reader, knew him like I know him. You’d be awe-inspired, too.
I took Billy to B&Q to buy some tiles for the wall in the computer room this morning. I want to reduce the echo in there so that I can make voice recordings. I found some small carpeted ones that I hope will work. I intend to spend the next week or so gluing them to the four walls in the room. If that doesn’t work, I may try the ceiling, too. If that still doesn’t work, I have no idea what to do.
It took us several hours and we got back home after lunchtime. Then, Billy and I began gluing the tiles to one of the walls in the computer room. A short time later, Shu Mei came in and said, “Do you want to go to the dance show with us?” Billy had told me that they went the day before, with President Li’s family. I said, “Didn’t you go last night?” She answered, “They have a different show tonight. They have a dance group from Brazil. I think it would be good if you went.” I really didn’t want to go, because I was in the middle of the tiling project. I told her that I would need a shower before going and she said, “We can wait.” Given the circumstances, the fact that she hadn’t spoken to me all week until this, I had no choice but to say, “Okay.” Honestly, I wanted to stay home and get as much of the tiling done as possible. I knew it had rained the night before and rain was expected again. Also, I’ve been to outdoor shows before here and it isn’t a pleasant experience for various reasons, reasons which I knew would be the same for this show. But again, I had no choice, given the situation.
One positive note about the show was the food before it. Outside of the open-air stadium, there were several food booths set up from Taichung restaurants, all of them foreign. All of the vend ors spoke English and their was a good variety of food, Mexican, German, and Greek. I had two burritos, while Shu Mei and the boys ate German sausages and nachos. Along with that, we drank strawberry and blueberry Slushies.
The experience of the show was actually worse than I had predicted it would be, though. The two MC’s actually took more time introducing the songs than the songs took themselves. We sat on wood-slat benches with no back support. Initially, there were few people. However, as the show progressed, the stadium became almost full. As Chinese people take baths just before bedtime, the body odor at that late hour was extremely potent. I almost threw up. We were in as good of a location as we could possible have had, but the stage was extremely far from the audience. It was so far away that we were forced to watch the show on the giant video screens, rather than the actual people who appeared very small on stage.
The first five numbers were traditional Chinese dancers, slow songs and slow dancing with no facial expressions. Things got a bit more exciting when the visiting dance group began. They weren’t from Brazil, though. They were a group from Hawaii. They were a house dance group from one of the hotels in Waikiki. There were two musicians/singers who invited everyone to their FREE show in Hawaii. Let me tell you, you get what you pay for in this world. Those two musicians sang worse than Sanjaya (from American Idol infamy) and the dancers, all five of them, danced worse than Lakisha (also from American Idol). The crowd “awed” a bit when the three female dancers shook their hips for a fast song, but most of the songs were slow and in Hawaiian.
Billy quickly became very bored and asked if we could walk around. I told Shu Mei that I was going to take him to the bathroom. She said to just have him “pee on the wall”, which is what she had Tyley do just minutes before. Because my butt was sore from the wood bench, and I wanted to walk around, I said I would take him up to the proper bathrooms. On the way up, I noticed a lot of boys were peeing on the wall, though. I wondered why they wouldn’t bring in some portable restrooms for shows like this. After returning to our seats, Tyley came over and wanted me to hold him, because he was tired.
Shu Mei could finally sense that we weren’t all into it, even though I had put on a smiley-face throughout and never uttered a negative word. She asked if I wanted to go and I, as usual, said, “Whatever you want to do.” Just then, there was a number which featured a fire dancer. She motioned to the stage and said, “Look Billy, look Tyley! Fire!” So, we had to stay through the three additional numbers that had that guy doing his fire dancing thing. You wouldn’t believe how out-of-shape this guy was. He had more flab hanging on him than I do. Even before the end of the first number, he was wheezing and sweating – and he hardly had moved. He basically just stood there and twirled about a stick that burned at both ends. That was what he did for the final two numbers, too. I thought he was going to have a heart attack by the end of the third drum-pounding number. He lay down and placed the stick on his extended feet. Then, he just stayed there, doing nothing. When the song ended, he got back up.
The crowd cheered, as if they just witnessed Moses parting the Red Sea. The only thought I had was that these people need to get out more. Obviously, they’re easily entertained. Perhaps I’ve just become jaded by having experienced a higher level of entertainment in my life. I know that is the case for humor. I don’t laugh at most jokes anymore, simply because I find them stupid. It takes a lot of intellectual structure for a joke to make me laugh. It is that way with all forms of entertainment. I don’t look down on people who are easily entertained by any means. In fact, I wish that I could be that way, too. But, I can’t. I’ve enjoyed those kinds of things in the past and now I just wish for something else. That’s all.